50 Sermon Illustrations on Sharing

Sermon in Philippians series. Mutuality in giving. Phil. 4:14-20.

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SHARING AND CARING

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I. Coordination test.

II. Share at the point of people's needs.

A. "You shared in my troubles."

B. The Philippian church was God's way of taking care of Paul.

C. Three stages in sharing in someone's need. Luke 10:30-36

1) Identify the need.

2) Show an interest in the need.

3) Get involved in meeting the need.

III. Be persistent in sharing.

A. "You sent me aid again and again." 2 Corinthians 8:1-5

B. Persistent sharing is lifeblood of Christian ministry.

IV. The profit of sharing.

A. Greco-Roman friendship was based on mutuality.

B. Mutuality also works on higher level - our relationship with God.

C. Our God can give us what we really need.

V. The price of sharing.

A. Sharing is described as an acceptable sacrifice.

B. You cannot out-give God.

#134

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A West Virginian farmer died and left his 17 mules to three sons. (He was wealthy by West Virginian standards.) His will stated that his oldest son would get half of the mules, the middle one would get one-third and the youngest would get one-ninth.

They wracked their brains to figure out how to do it, but couldn't.

Soon after this their [area] minister came to help them in their grief and heard their predicament. He added his mule to the lot, making 18 mules.

The oldest got half, or 9.

The middle got one-third, or 6.

And the youngest got one-ninth, or 2.

Then the minister got on the remaining mule and rode home.

Leadership is about creatively adding an extra mule. Everyone is satisfied with the results and the leader still has something to ride home on.

Sermon in 1 Corinthian series. 16:1-24, Intimacy and Christian friendship.

1. Closeness of families at Thanksgiving.

2. The value of Christian friends.

3. Giving friends their due.

a. Material needs (charity).

b. Emotional needs (honor).

4. Intimacy with Christian friends.

a. Visiting friends.

b. Building intimacy. [7 steps]

5. Making up for distance.

6. Challenge: Be a friend.

a. Do you value Christian friends?

b. Are you a friend to others?

In its January 25, 1988, issue, Time provided an insight on selfishness and its corollary, sharing. Speaking about the introduction of the video-cassette recorder, the article said, “The company had made a crucial mistake. While at first Sony kept its Beta technology mostly to itself, JVC, the Japanese inventor of the VHS {format}, shared its secret with a raft of other firms. As a result, the market was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the VHS machines being produced.”

This drastically undercut Sony’s market share. The first year, Sony lost 40 percent of the market, and by 1987 it controlled only 10 percent. So now Sony has jumped on the VHS bandwagon. While it still continues to make Beta-format VCR’s, Sony’s switch to VHS, according to Time, will likely send Beta machines to “the consumer graveyard.” Even in a cut-throat business, sharing has its rewards.

#1823

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A story from Anthony de Mello, S.J.:

A farmer whose corn always took the first prize at the state fair had the habit of sharing his best corn seed with all the farmers in the neighborhood. When asked why, he said, “It is really a matter of self-interest. The wind picks up the pollen and carries it from field to field. So if my neighbors grow inferior corn, the cross-pollination brings down the quality of my own corn. That is why I am concerned that they plant only the very best.”

Imagine the globe's population reduced to a single village of 1,000. If that village was to accurately reflect the world's nationalities, then only 60 villagers would be American. The Americans would own 15 times more possessions that any of their neighbors, and would enjoy an average life expectancy of 70 years as opposed to less than 40 years for the other villagers. And those same Americans would have 28 of the village's 53 telephones.

There were once two men, both seriously ill, in the same small room of a great hospital. Quite a small room, it had one window looking out on the world. One of the men, as part of his treatment, was allowed to sit up in bed for an hour in the afternoon (something to do with draining the fluid from his lungs). His bed was next to the window. But the other man had to spend all his time flat on his back.

Every afternoon when the man next to the window was propped up for his hour, he would pass the time by describing what he could see outside. The window apparently overlooked a park where there was a lake. There were ducks and swans in the lake, and children came to throw them bread and sail model boats. Young lovers walked hand in hand beneath the trees, and there were flowers and stretches of grass, games of softball. And at the back, behind the fringe of trees, was a fine view of the city skyline.

The man on his back would listen to the other man describe all of this, enjoying every minute. He heard how a child nearly fell into the lake, and how beautiful the girls were in their summer dresses. His friend's descriptions eventually made him feel he could almost see what was happening outside.

Then one fine afternoon, the thought struck him: Why should the man next to the window have all the pleasure of seeing what was going on? Why shouldn't he get the chance? He felt ashamed, but the more he tried not to think like that, the worse he wanted a change. He'd do anything! One night as he stared at the ceiling, the other man suddenly woke up, coughing and choking, his hands groping for the button that would bring the nurse running. But the man watched without moving - even when the sound of breathing stopped. In the morning, the nurse found the other man dead, and quietly took his body away.

As soon as it seemed decent, the man asked if he could be switched to the bed next to the window. So they moved him, tucked him in, and made him quite comfortable. The minute they left, he propped himself up on one elbow, painfully and laboriously, and looked out the window.

It faced a blank wall.

Moral of the story: The pursuit of happiness is a matter of choice...it is a positive attitude we consciously choose to express. It is not a gift that gets delivered to our doorstep each morning, nor does it come through the window. And I am certain that our circumstances are just a small part of what makes us joyful. If we wait for them to get just right, we will never find lasting joy.

The pursuit of happiness is an inward journey. Our minds are like programs, awaiting the code that will determine behaviors; like bank vaults awaiting our deposits. If we regularly deposit positive, encouraging, and uplifting thoughts, if we continue to bite our lips just before we begin to grumble and complain, if we shoot down that seemingly harmless negative thought as it germinates, we will find that there is much to rejoice about.

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Author Unknown (moral found in a version in the Fredericksburg Collection of illustrations). Submitted by Ronald Dahlsten and Harriette Lindsey, from A 2nd Helping of Chicken Soup for the Soul, copyright 1995 by Jack Canfield and Mark Victor Hansen [Snopes.com says the plot of this "legend" is so beloved of fiction writers that it was included in a 1946 round-up of shopworn storylines. According to "101 Plots Used and Abused," the original was written by Alan Seager and published in Collier's.]

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Another version from PreachingNow newsletter, May 12, 2009. This one removes the hint of murder:

Two men, both seriously ill, occupied the same hospital room. One man was allowed to sit up in his bed for an hour each afternoon to help drain the fluid from his lungs. His bed was next to the room’s only window. The other man had to spend all his time flat on his back.

The men talked for hours on end. They spoke of their wives and families, their homes, their jobs, their involvement in the military service, where they had been on vacation. And every afternoon when the man in the bed by the window could sit up, he would pass the time by describing to his roommate all the things he could see outside the window.

The man in the other bed began to live for those one-hour periods where his world would be broadened and enlivened by all the activity and color of the world outside. The window overlooked a park with a lovely lake. Ducks and swans played on the water while children sailed their model boats. Young lovers walked arm in arm amidst flowers of every color of the rainbow. Grand old trees graced the landscape, and a fine view of the city skyline could be seen in the distance. As the man by the window described all this in exquisite detail, the man on the other side of the room would close his eyes and imagine the picturesque scene.

One warm afternoon the man by the window described a parade passing by. Although the other man couldn’t hear the band, he could see it in his mind’s eye as the gentleman by the window portrayed it with descriptive words.

Days and weeks passed. One morning, the day nurse arrived to bring water for their baths only to find the lifeless body of the man by the window, who had died peacefully in his sleep. She was saddened and called the hospital attendants to take the body away. As soon as it seemed appropriate, the other man asked if he could be moved next to the window. The nurse was happy to make the switch; and after making sure he was comfortable, she left him alone.

Slowly, painfully, he propped himself up on one elbow to take his first look at the world outside. Finally, he would have the joy of seeing it for himself. He strained to slowly turn to look out the window beside the bed.

It faced a blank wall.

The man asked the nurse what could have compelled his deceased roommate who had described such wonderful things outside this window. The nurse responded that the man was blind and could not even see the wall. She said, “Perhaps he just wanted to encourage you.” (from Mikey’s Funnies)

THE LETTER

Ruth went to her mail box and there was only one letter. She picked it up and looked at it before opening, but then she looked at the envelope again.

There was no stamp, no postmark, only her name and address. She read the letter:

Dear Ruth,

I'm going to be in your neighborhood Saturday

afternoon and I'd like to stop by for a visit.

Love Always,

Jesus

Her hands were shaking as she placed the letter on the table. "Why would the Lord want to visit me? I'm nobody special. I don't have anything to offer." With that thought, Ruth remembered her empty kitchen cabinets.

"Oh my goodness, I really don't have anything to offer. I'll have to run down to the store and buy something for dinner." She reached for her purse and counted out its contents. Five dollars and forty cents.

"Well, I can get some bread and cold cuts, at least." She threw on her coat and hurried out the door. A loaf of french bread, a half-pound of sliced turkey, and a carton of milk...leaving Ruth with a grand total of twelve cents to last her until Monday.

Nonetheless, she felt good as she headed home, her meager offerings tucked under her arm.

"Hey lady, can you help us, lady?" Ruth had been so absorbed in her dinner plans, she hadn't even noticed two figures huddled in the alleyway. A man and a woman, both of them dressed in little more than rags.

"Look lady, I ain't got a job, ya know, and my wife and I have been living out here on the street, and, well, now it's getting cold and we're getting kinda hungry and, well, if you could help us, lady, we'd really appreciate it."

Ruth looked at them both. They were dirty, they smelled bad and, frankly, she was certain that they could get some kind of work if they really wanted to.

"Sir, I'd like to help you, but I'm a poor woman myself. All I have is a few cold cuts and some bread, and I'm having an important guest for dinner tonight and I was planning on serving that to Him."

"Yeah, well, okay lady, I understand. Thanks anyway." The man put his arm around the woman's shoulders, turned and headed back into the alley. As she watched them leave, Ruth felt a familiar twinge in her heart.

"Sir, wait!" The couple stopped and turned as she ran down the alley after them. "Look, why don't you take this food. I'll figure out something else to serve my guest." She handed the man her grocery bag.

"Thank you lady. Thank you very much!"

"Yes, thank you!" It was the man's wife, and Ruth could see now that she was shivering.

"You know, I've got another coat at home. Here, why don't you take this one." Ruth unbuttoned her jacket and slipped it over the woman's shoulders.

Then smiling, she turned and walked back to the street… without her coat and with nothing to serve her guest. "Thank you lady! Thank you very much!"

Ruth was chilled by the time she reached her front door, and worried too. The Lord was coming to visit and she didn't have anything to offer Him. She fumbled through her purse for the door key. But as she did, she noticed another envelope in her mailbox.

"That's odd. The mailman doesn't usually come twice in one day." She took the envelope out of the box and opened it.

Dear Ruth,

It was so good to see you again. Thank you for the lovely

meal And thank you, too, for the beautiful coat.

Love Always,

Jesus

The air was still cold, but even without her coat, Ruth no longer noticed.

#4469

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He was driving home one evening on a two-lane country road. Work in this small mid-western community was almost as slow as his beat-up Pontiac but, he never quit looking. Ever since the Levis factory closed he’d been unemployed and with winter raging on, the chill had finally hit home.

It was a lonely road. Not many people had a reason to be on it unless they were leaving. Most of his friends had already left. They had families to feed and dreams to fulfill. But he stayed on. After all, this was where he buried his mother and father. He was born here and knew the country.

He could go down this road blindfolded and tell you what was on either side. With his headlights not working, that came in handy. It was starting to get dark and light snow flurries were coming down he knew he’d better get a move on.

You know, he almost didn’t see the old lady stranded on the side of the road. But even in the dim light of day he could see she needed help. So, he pulled up in front of her Mercedes and got out. His Pontiac was still sputtering when he approached her.

Even with the smile on his face, she was worried. No one had stopped to help for the last hour or so. Was he going to hurt her? He didn’t look safe, he looked poor and hungry. He could see that she was frightened, standing out there in the cold. He knew how she felt. It was that chill that only fear can put in you. He said, “I’m here to help you ma’am. Why don’t you wait in the car where it’s warm. By the way, my name is Joe.”

All she had was a flat tire but, for an old lady, that was bad enough. Joe crawled under the car looking for a place to put the jack skinning his knuckles a time or two. Soon he was able to change the tire. But he had to get dirty and his hands hurt. As he was tightening up the lug nuts, she rolled down her window and began to talk to him. She told him that she was from St. Louis and was only just passing through. She couldn’t thank him enough for coming to her aid. Joe just smiled as he closed her trunk.

She asked him how much she owed him. Any amount would have been alright with her. She had already imagined all the awful things that could have happened had he not stopped. Joe never thought twice about the money. This was not a job to him. This was helping someone in need, and God knows there were plenty who had given him a hand in the past. He had lived his whole life that way, and it never occurred to him to act any other way. He told her that if she really wanted to pay him back the next time she saw someone who needed help she could give that person the assistance that they needed and Joe added, “… and think of me”.

He waited until she started her car and drove off. It had been a cold and depressing day but, he felt good as he headed for home disappearing into the twilight. A few miles down the road the lady saw a small cafe. She went in to grab a bite to eat and take the chill off before she made the last leg of her trip home. It was a dingy looking restaurant. Outside were two old gas pumps. The whole scene was unfamiliar to her. The cash register was like the telephone of an out-of-work actor, it didn’t ring much.

Her waitress came over and brought a clean towel to wipe her wet hair. She had a sweet smile, one that even being on her feet for the whole day couldn’t erase. The lady noticed that the waitress was nearly eight months pregnant but, she never let the strain and aches change her attitude. The old lady wondered how someone who had so little could be so giving to a stranger. Then she remembered Joe.

After the lady finished her meal and the waitress went to get her change from a hundred dollar bill the lady slipped right out the door. She was gone by the time the waitress came back. She wondered where the lady could be then she noticed something written on a napkin. There were tears in her eyes when she read what the lady wrote. It said, “You don’t owe me a thing. I’ve been there too. Someone once helped me out the way I’m helping you. If you really want to pay me back here’s what you do. DON’T LET THE CHAIN OF LOVE END WITH YOU.”

There were tables to clear, sugar bowls to fill, and people to serve but the waitress made it through another day. That night when she got home from work and climbed into bed she was thinking about the money and what the lady had written. How could she have known how much she and her husband needed it? With the baby due next month it was going to be hard. She knew how worried her husband was, and as he lay sleeping next to her she gave him a soft kiss and whispered soft and low, “Everything’s gonna be alright. I love you, Joe.”

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Another version:

LET THE LIGHT SHINE

Author Unknown

He was driving home one evening, on a two-lane country road. Work, in this small Midwestern community, was almost as slow as his beat-up Pontiac, but he never quit looking. Ever since the factory closed, he’d been unemployed, and with winter raging on, the chill had finally hit home. It was a lonely road. Not very many people had a reason to be on it, unless they were leaving. Most of his friends had already left. They had families to feed and dreams to fulfill, but he stayed on. After all, this was where he buried his mother and father. He was born here and knew the country. He could go down this road blind, and tell you what was on either side, and with his headlights not working, that came in handy. It was starting to get dark and light snow flurries were coming down. He’d better get a move on.

You know, he almost didn’t see the old lady stranded on the side of the road. But even in the dim light of day, he could see she needed help. So he pulled up in front of her Mercedes and got out. His Pontiac was still sputtering when he approached her. Even with the smile on his face, she was worried. No one had stopped to help her the last hour or so. Was he going to hurt her? He didn’t look safe, he looked poor and hungry. He could see that she was frightened, standing out there in the cold. He knew how she felt. It was that chill that only fear can put in you. He said, “I’m here to help you ma’am. Why don’t you wait in the car where it’s warm? By the way, my name is Joe.”

Well, all she had was a flat tire, but for an old lady, that was bad enough. Joe crawled under the car looking for a place to put the jack, skinning his knuckles a time or two. Soon he was able to change the tire, but he had to get dirty and his hands hurt. As he was tightening up the lug nuts, she rolled down her window and began to talk to him. She told him that she was from St. Louis and was only just passing through. She couldn’t thank him enough for coming to her aid. Joe just smiled as he closed her trunk. She asked him how much she owed him. Any amount would have been all right with her. She had already imagined all the awful things that could have happened had he not stopped. Joe never thought twice about the money. This was not a job to him. This was helping someone in need, and there were plenty who had given to him in the past. He had lived his whole life that way and it had never occurred to him to act any other way. He told here that if she really wanted to pay him back, the next time she saw someone who needed help, she could give that person the assistance they needed. Joe added, “...And think of me.” He waited until she started her car and drove off. It had been a cold and depressing day, but he felt good as he headed for home, disappearing into the twilight.

A few miles down the road the lady saw a small cafe. She went in to grab a bite to eat and take the chill off her before she made the last leg of her trip home. It was a dinghy looking restaurant. Outside were two old gas pumps. The whole scene was unfamiliar to her. The cash register was like the telephone of an out of work actor -- it didn’t ring much. Her waitress came over and brought a clean towel to wipe her hair. She had a sweet smile, one that even being on her feet for the whole day couldn’t erase. The lady noticed that the waitress was very pregnant, but she never let the strain and aches change her attitude. The old lady wondered how someone who had so little could be so giving to a stranger. Then she remembered Joe. After the lady finished her meal, and the waitress went to get her change from a hundred dollar bill, the lady slipped right out the door.

She was gone by the time the waitress came back. She wondered where the lady could be, then she noticed something written on a napkin. There were tears in her eyes when she read what the lady had written. It said, “You don’t owe me a thing, I’ve been there too. Someone helped me out, the way I’m helping you.” Well, there were tables to clear, bowls to fill, and people to serve, but the waitress made it through another day.

That night when she got home from work and climbed into bed, she was thinking about the money and what the lady had written. How could she have known how much she and her husband needed the extra money? With the baby coming next month, it was going to be hard. She knew how worried her husband was and as he lay sleeping next to her, she gave him a sweet kiss and whispered soft and low, “Everything’s going to be all right. I love you...Joe.”

________

Avenue B church of Christ, Ballinger, Texas

James Bender, in his book, How to Talk Well (New York: McGraw-Hill Book Company, Inc., 1994), relates the story of a farmer who grew award-winning corn. Each year he entered his corn in the state fair where it won a blue ribbon.

One year a newspaper reporter interviewed him and learned something interesting about how he grew it. The reporter discovered that the farmer shared his seed corn with his neighbors.

“How can you afford to share your best seed corn with your neighbors when they are entering corn in competition with yours each year,” the reporter asked.

“Why sir,” said the farmer, “didn't you know? The wind picks up pollen from the ripening corn and swirls it from field to field. If my neighbors grow inferior corn, cross-pollination will steadily degrade the quality of my corn. If I am to grow good corn, I must help my neighbors grow good corn.”

He is very much aware of the correctness of life. His corn cannot improve unless his neighbor's corn also improves.

So it is in other dimensions. Those who choose to be at peace must help their neighbors to be at peace. Those who choose to live well must help others to live well, for the value of a life is measured by the lives it touches. And those who choose to be happy must help others to find happiness, for the welfare of each is bound up with the welfare of all.

The lesson for each of us is this: if we are to grow good corn, we must help our neighbors grow good corn.

"Give, and it shall be given unto you; good measure, pressed down, and shaken together, and running over, shall men give into your bosom. For with the same measure that ye mete withal it shall be measured to you again." Luke 6:38

"But this I say, He which soweth sparingly shall reap also sparingly; and he which soweth bountifully shall reap also bountifully." 2 Corinthians 9:6

"Be not deceived; God is not mocked: for whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap. For he that soweth to his flesh shall of the flesh reap corruption; but he that soweth to the Spirit shall of the Spirit reap life everlasting. And let us not be weary in well doing: for in due season we shall reap, if we faint not. As we have therefore opportunity, let us do good unto all men, especially unto them who are of the household of faith." Galatians 6:7-10

James Bender, in his book "How To Talk Well" relates the story of a farmer who grew award-winning corn. Each year he entered his corn in the state fair where it won a blue ribbon. ONe year a newspaper reporter interviewed him and learned something interesting about how he grew it.

The reporter discovered that the farmer shared his seed corn with his neighbors. "How can you afford to share your best seed corn with your neighbors when they are entering corn in competition with yours each year?" the reporter asked.

"Why sir," said the farmer, "didn't you know? The wind picks up pollen from the ripening corn and swirls it from field to field. If my neighbors grew inferior corn, cross-pollination will steadily degrade the quality of my corn. If I am to grow good corn, I must help my neighbors grow good corn."

He is very much aware of the connectness of his life. His corn cannot improve unless his neighbor's corn also improves. So it is in other dimensions. Those who choose to be at peace must help their neighbors to be at peace. Those who choose to live well must help others to live well, for the value of a life is measured by the lives it touches. And those who choose to be happy must help others find happiness, for the welfare of each is bound up with the welfare of all.

The lesson for each of us is this: if we are to grow good corn, we must help our neighbors grow good corn.

--GRAYMERE NEWS, Columbia, TN

Sermon following a mission trip to Haiti. Acts 4:31-37

TO ANYONE AS THEY HAVE NEED

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

I. The Early Church.

A. Our model.

1) We want to "do church" the same way they did.

2) We want to experience Jesus the same way they did.

3) We would love to have the same results they did.

B. Glimpses of that church today.

II. What the early church was like.

A. It was a praying church. 4:31

B. It was a united church. 4:32

C. It was a sharing church. 4:32

D. It was a witnessing church. 4:33

E. It was a charitable church. 4:34

III. What they had, we can have.

Sandal Love

Read: 1 John 3:16-24

Let us not love in word or in tongue, but in deed and in truth. --1 John 3:18

A young woman backpacking in Colorado encountered another woman hobbling down a mountain trail. On one foot she wore an improvised shoe made of green twigs wrapped with a strip of cloth.

"Lost one boot crossing a stream," she explained. "Hope I can get down the mountain before dark."

The first hiker reached into her own pack and took out a sport sandal. "Wear this," she said. "You can mail it to me when you get home."

The woman gratefully accepted the sandal and set off down the trail. A few days later the sandal arrived in the mail with a note saying: "I passed several people who noticed my predicament, but you're the only one who offered any help. It made all the difference. Thanks for sharing your sandal with me."

The Bible says love can be seen and touched--it's tangible. It may be as big as the Good Samaritan's care for an injured man (Lk. 10:30-37) or as small as a cup of cold water given in Jesus' name (Mt. 10:42).

Real love takes action. The Bible says, "Let us not love in word or in tongue, but in deed and in truth" (1 Jn. 3:18).

On the trail of life today, when we meet a hobbler, let's offer a sandal in love. --DCM

Give as 'twas given to you in your need,

Love as the Master loved you;

Be to the helpless a helper indeed,

Unto your mission be true. --Wilson

© Renewal 1952, The Rodeheaver Company

Our Daily Bread, September 1999

Read: Romans 10:1-15

He brought His Word to light through the preaching entrusted to me. —Titus 1:3

Most college students know all about Napster. It’s their ticket to free music on the Internet. A lot of record companies and rock bands do not share their enthusiasm, however.

Why not? Napster is an Internet company that enables you to go out and find your favorite songs as MP3 files on other computers, download, catalog, and share them with others. The MP3 format allows users to store and play near-CD-quality recordings, copyrighted or not. Put those two together, and you have a nightmare for record companies. Fans can download CDs on their hard drives, then invite anyone to copy them for free, using Napster.

That’s not the only nightmare. Several universities have banned Napster from their campus computers because so many students were downloading music that it tied up Internet lines for hours.

The issue of copyright is confusing. Artists deserve a degree of control over their work, and it’s the way they make their living. On the other hand, budget-conscious students are urging their favorite bands to lighten up. It’s a tough call.

Some recording artists encourage pirating of their music. They figure the music belongs to their fans anyway, and they will still score their big bucks.

In one sense, salvation is available for downloading at any time too–the connection is always open and there are no copyright restrictions. God offers eternal life through Jesus Christ to anyone who believes. You couldn’t buy salvation anyway; it already cost God His only Son.

The only thing God needs is a few human “hard drives” available as the download recipient. God has opted to use Christians to share the good news, so we need to be ready to talk to people about our faith.

If you have a personal relationship with God through Christ, chances are that God used someone to download the good news to you. Why not do the same for someone else today? You won’t get into any legal trouble, I promise. This message was designed to be shared! — JC

REFLECTION

• Which computer term best describes my willingness to share the gospel:

° “Click to download now”?

° “Site contacted; waiting for reply”?

° Or … “Access denied”?

• What upgrades do I need to make so that I will download the good news more often?

• Lord,

° give me boldness to tell other people about You.

° The gospel is Your message.

° Give me Your power to share it.

When sharing the gospel, don’t get caught “napping.”

Recently I attended a church service. When I entered the sanctuary, I noticed jackets piled on top of the piano. I was bothered that people had piled their jackets there. Then I realized that this was the first of two Sundays we were to bring jackets and warm clothing, to give to a shelter, for people in need. Jackets that we were giving to the shelter were on the piano.

I felt bad I did not bring something. Then I heard God instructing me to place the jacket I was wearing on the piano. It was a black leather jacket I had bought the year before. I did not want to give it up. I talked to a friend who was with me at the service. He suggested that I wear the jacket home, pray about it and bring the jacket back next Sunday if I still felt strongly about it.

I felt God wanted me to leave the jacket right now. I remembered the year before when I purchased the jacket. I prayed about it and felt God indicating I could buy it and keep it “for awhile”. I had not understand then what “for awhile” meant.

Now I knew what he meant by “for awhile” and time was up. I took off the jacket, walked to the piano and put down my jacket. When I walked out of the church with no jacket, into the cold winter air, I felt great joy that I had listened to God and given when he asked.

At home, I went to my closet to get another jacket. Then it hit me how well God knows the greedy side of my heart. Had I remembered before I left for the service to bring a jacket to share, I would not have given the black leather jacket. It made me think about how God works through us to use the gifts he has specifically selected for each of us.

The gifts we receive are never ours. God gives to us so we can give to others. We just hold on to the gift until He calls for it. Then when we are instructed to give it away He alone gets all the glory.

________

Source: Moment to Consider

Jack Kelley, a reporter from USA Today, tells the story of a trip to East Africa in which he was taught a very valuable lesson. He was in Mogadishu, the capital of Somalia, to cover a terrible famine. It was so bad that as he walked toward the village he saw many people already lying on the ground dead. In his retelling of the story he recalls how the smell of death is something that gets into your hair, onto your skin, onto your clothes, and can’t be washed off.

As he made his way down the road he came across a little boy. He could tell that the boy had worms and was malnourished; his stomach was protruding. His hair had turned a reddish color and his skin had wrinkled as if he were 100 years old, both signs of malnutrition.

The photographer who was traveling with the reporter had a grapefruit that he gave to the boy. But the boy was so weak that he couldn’t hold the whole grapefruit for himself. And so they cut the grapefruit in half and gave it to him. He took the grapefruit, looked up at the two men as if to say “thank you” and began to walk back towards his village. What the little boy didn’t realize was that the photographer and reporter were following at a distance.

As he entered the village, there was another little boy who looked to be dead. His eyes were completely glazed over. As it turned out, this was his younger brother.

The older brother kneeled down next to his younger brother, bit off a piece of the grapefruit and chewed it. Then he opened up his younger brother’s mouth, put the grapefruit in, and worked his brother’s jaw up and down. The reporter and photographer later learned that the older brother had been doing that for the younger brother for two weeks.

A couple days later the older brother died of malnutrition, and the younger brother lived. I wonder if this is what Jesus meant when he said, “There is no greater love than to lay down our life for somebody else.” Love changes everything. It changes our hearts and causes us to do things for others that we would never have done before.

We do not well: this day is a day of good tidings, and we hold our peace. — 2 Kings 7:9.

A story is related in Cassell’s Natural History of a gentleman who laid a piece of candy on the table, and then picked up an ant and placed it on the candy. He was surprised to see the little creature go down by one of the legs of the table and seek its fellows. They appeared to have understood the news. He then at once turned back, followed by a long train of his fellow-citizens, and took them to the prize. Are there not many who know the sweetness of salvation who might learn a lesson from the ant? If we have tasted and seen that the Lord is good, let us do what we can to lead others into like blessings.

Can we whose souls are lighted with wisdom from on high,

Can we to men benighted the lamp of life deny? — Heber.

There is that scattereth, and yet increaseth; and there is that withholdeth more than is meet, but it tendeth to poverty. The liberal soul shall be name fat: and he that watereth shall be watered also himself. — Proverbs 11:24-25.

When I thanked my friend for a cutting from her own African Violet plant, knowing that she had given ever so many of them to her friends, I said, “Doesn’t the original plant wear out and die?” “No, that’s the strange part,” she answered. “The more I take from the plant the more abundantly it grows.” As I walked home with my plant I thought about what she had said. “The more cuttings … the more abundantly it grows.” That’s the way it seems to be with people, too. Those who seem continually to be taking cuttings of their time to give to others don’t ever wear out and die. They bloom more and more abundantly. — D. W. Berg.

For the heart grows rich in giving

All its wealth is living gain;

Seeds which mildew in the garner,

Scattered, fill with gold the plain.

I am a mother of three (ages 14, 12, 3) and have recently completed my college degree. The last class I had to take was Sociology. The teacher was absolutely inspiring with the qualities that I wish every human being had been graced with. Her last project of the term was called “Smile.” The class was asked to go out and smile at three people and document their reaction. I am a very friendly person and always smile at everyone and say, hello anyway... so, I thought, this would be a piece of cake literally.

Soon after we were assigned the project, my husband, youngest son, and I went out to McDonalds, one crisp March morning. It was just our way of sharing special play time with our son. We were standing in line, waiting to be served, when all of a sudden everyone around us began to back away, and then even my husband did. I did not move an inch ... an overwhelming feeling of panic welled up inside of me as I turned to see why they had moved. As I turned around I smelled a horrible “dirty body” smell ... and there standing behind me were two poor homeless men. As I looked down at the short gentleman, close to me, he was “smiling”. His beautiful sky-blue eyes were full of God’s Light as he searched for acceptance. He said, “Good day” as he counted the few coins he had been clutching. The second man fumbled with his hands as he stood behind his friend. I realized the second man was mentally deficient and the blue-eyed gentleman was his salvation. I held my tears as I stood there with them.

The young lady at the counter asked him what they wanted. He said, “Coffee is all, Miss” because that was all they could afford to sit in the restaurant and warm up, they had to buy something (they just wanted to be warm). Then I really felt it ... the compulsion as so great I almost reached out and embraced the little man with the blue eyes.

That is when I noticed all eyes in the restaurant were set on me ... judging my every action. I smiled and asked the young lady behind the counter to give me two more breakfast meals on a separate tray. I then walked around the corner to the table that the men had chosen as a resting spot. I put the tray on the table and laid my hand on the blue eyed gentleman’s cold hand. He looked up at me, with tears in his eyes, and said, “Thank you.” I leaned over, began to pat his hand and said, “I did not do this for you ... God is here working through me to give you hope.”

I started to cry as I walked away to join my husband and son. When I sat down my husband smiled at me and said, “That is why God gave you to me, honey ... to give me hope.” We held hands for a moment and at that time we knew that only because of the Grace that we had been given that we were able to give. We are not church-goers but we are believers. That day showed me the pure light of God’s sweet love.

I returned to college, on the last evening of class, with this story in hand. I turned in “my project” and the instructor read it ... then she looked up at me and said, “Can I share this?” I slowly nodded as she got the attention of the class. She began to read and that is when I knew that we, as human beings and being part of God, share this need to heal people and be healed. In my own way I had touched the people at McDonalds, my husband, son, instructor, and every soul that shared the classroom on the last night I spent as a college student. I graduated with one of the biggest lessons I would ever learn.... UNCONDITIONAL ACCEPTANCE.

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

Pastor Dick Lewis

It was Christmas, 1968. I had just emigrated from England to Canada, and I didn't know a soul. As Christmas day approached, I felt homesick and lonely in a strange city. Being of the Jewish faith, my family never really celebrated Christmas, but mother always cooked the traditional kosher turkey. No tree or presents. We only listened to the Queen's message.

I had begun working in a Montreal law office. The young girl who sat next to me was 19, six years my junior, but seemed more my contemporary. A few days before Christmas, I became melancholy.

“What's wrong?” Cathie asked one snowy morning.

“I just feel down about being alone for Christmas.”

“Then spend it with my family,” she blurted out.

“Thanks. But you can't invite strangers over.”

“We always take in strays at Christmas.”

I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

I felt like a stray cat with no home.

“We're having our neighbour over too. Her husband just died, and we don't want her to be alone either,” Cathie went on.

So, on Christmas day, Cathie's father picked me up. My first real Christmas in the home of strangers. I was excited. The place looked like a winter wonderland - outside a snowman - inside a carefully decorated Christmas tree with loads of presents underneath, and even one with my name on it. I placed my gift with the others. An elderly lady was there. The other “stray,” I thought.

All in all, I spent three wonderful Christmas dinners with Cathie's family before I moved to Vancouver. I didn't even miss the Queen's message.

Cathie Watters, wherever you are now, I truly hope that this Christmas will be as memorable and wonderful as the ones you made for me.

____________

Angela Goodman Vancouver, BC

In an article on China in Eternity Magazine, the writer records a story of Christian love and kindness.

“A Chinese cook was put into prison one night. It was bitterly cold -- about 26 degrees below zero. He had on his padded clothes and a big fur coat. But a heathen man who was later thrown in with him had no wraps at all. The Christian man began to pray that God would get him out of prison. While he was praying, it seemed God spoke to him. ‘I won’t hear your prayer until you’ve taken off your fur coat and given it to this man who had none.’ ‘But if I do that, I’ll be frozen to death by morning,’ the man thought. ‘Well, if you don’t,’ he seemed to hear God’s reply, ‘this man will be dead before morning.’ So he took off his fur coat and gave it to the man and his life was saved.

“Later on at a Christian gathering in Communist China, the heathen man who had received the coat got up and gave his testimony. ‘I am here today because a man shared his coat with me in prison.’”

People are in need. People are suffering. The winning of souls to Christ could well depend on how willing we are to share our coat.

A story from Anthony de Mello, S.J.:

A farmer whose corn always took the first prize at the state fair had the habit of sharing his best corn seed with all the farmers in the neighborhood. When asked why, he said, “It is really a matter of self-interest. The wind picks up the pollen and carries it from field to field. So if my neighbors grow inferior corn, the cross-pollination brings down the quality of my own corn. That is why I am concerned that they plant only the very best.”

I am impressed by an incident that happened during Ignace Paderewski's career. The famous Polish pianist agreed to play a concert organized by two Stanford University students working their way through school. Paderewski's manager said they would have to guarantee the artist a fee of $2,000. The boys agreed and eventually the concert was held.

Though the two student promoters worked hard, they took in only $1,600. Discouraged, they told Paderewski of their efforts and handed him the $1,600 with a note promising to pay him the balance of $400. But the artist tore up the note and gave them back the $1,600. “Take your expenses out of this,” he said, “give yourselves each 10% of what's left for your work, and let me have the rest.”

Years later, Paderewski was faced with feeding the people of his [World War I] war-ravaged Poland. Amazingly, even before a request was made, thousands of tons of food were sent to Poland by the United States.

Paderewski later traveled to Paris to thank Herbert Hoover, who headed up the US relief effort. “That's all right, Mr. Paderewski,” said Hoover, “I knew that the need was great. And besides, though you may not remember it, I was one of the two college students whom you generously helped when I was in need.”

Paderewski reaped a harvest he had sown years before. And so it is. When we give, we receive. Maybe not exactly the thing we gave, and maybe not at the time it was given.

It is also true that when we give from our hearts, when we give in a spirit of love and compassion, we receive even more than we gave. It's a basic law of successful living. Powerful enough to change a life.

__________

(C) 2001 Steve Goodier; Life Support System, mailto:LifeSupport-subscribe@yahoogroups.com

Sebastian Junger, author of “The Perfect Storm,” once hitchhiked from Minnesota to Washington state in October. He writes:

I had a week's worth of food, a knife in one pocket, a canister of pepper spray in the other, and $500 in traveler's checks in my wallet. My plan was to cross Montana, Idaho, and Washington before it got too cold, then work my way down to Los Angeles and return home across the desert and the Deep South. I figured I'd make it back by Christmas. My first night was spent in a blizzard in the South Dakota Badlands, the second in the desolate little town of Gillette, Wyoming. The next morning, I limped out to the highway and stood in the shrieking wind under a high, cold, cloudless sky with my thumb jabbed out. Freight liners barreled past me. Locals drove by in pickups and threw beer bottles that exploded against the frozen pavement.

After two or three hours I saw a man working his way toward me along the on-ramp from town. He wore filthy canvas coveralls and carried a black lunch box, and as he got closer I could see that his hair was matted in a way that occurs only after months on the skids. Gillette was a hard-bitten mining town that had fallen on bad times, and I thought that anyone walking out to the highway looking like that on a 20-degree (minus 6-degree Celsius) day was probably pretty desperate. I put my hand on the pepper spray in my pocket and turned to face him. My backpack was on the pavement by my feet. I was ready.

“You been out here long?” he asked.

I nodded.

“Where you headed?”

“California.”

“Warm out there.”

“Yup.”

“You got enough food?”

I thought about this. Clearly he didn't have any, and if I admitted that I did, he'd ask for some. That in itself wasn't a problem, but it would mean opening my backpack and revealing all my obviously expensive camping gear. I felt alone and exposed and ripe for pillage, and I just didn't want to do that. Twenty years later I still remember my answer: “I got some cheese.”

“You won't make it to California with just a little cheese,” he said. “You'll starve.”

At first I didn't understand. What was he saying, exactly? I kept my hand on the pepper spray.

“Believe me,” he said, “I know. Listen, I'm living in a car back in town, and every day I walk out to the mine to see if they need me. Today they don't, so I won't be needing this lunch of mine.”

I began to sag with understanding. In his world, whatever you have in your bag is all you've got, and he knew “a little cheese” would never get me to California.

“I'm fine, really” I said. “I don't need your lunch.”

He shook his head and opened his box. It was a typical church meal — a bologna sandwich, an apple, and a bag of chips — and I kept protesting, but he wouldn't hear of it. I finally took his lunch and watched him walk back down the on-ramp toward town. I learned a lot of things in college, I thought, and I learned a lot from the books I'd read on my own. I had learned things in Newfoundland and in Europe and in Mexico and in my hometown of Belmont, Massachusetts, but I had to stand out there on that frozen piece of interstate to learn true generosity from a homeless man.

I am impressed by an incident that happened during Ignace Paderewski's career. The famous Polish pianist agreed to play a concert organized by two Stanford University students working their way through school. Paderewski's manager said they would have to guarantee the artist a fee of $2,000. The boys agreed and eventually the concert was held.

Though the two student promoters worked hard, they took in only $1,600. Discouraged, they told Paderewski of their efforts and handed him the $1,600 with a note promising to pay him the balance of $400. But the artist tore up the note and gave them back the $1,600. “Take your expenses out of this,” he said, “give yourselves each 10% of what's left for your work, and let me have the rest.”

Years later, Paderewski was faced with feeding the people of his [World War I] war-ravaged Poland. Amazingly, even before a request was made, thousands of tons of food were sent to Poland by the United States.

Paderewski later traveled to Paris to thank Herbert Hoover, who headed up the US relief effort. “That's all right, Mr. Paderewski,” said Hoover, “I knew that the need was great. And besides, though you may not remember it, I was one of the two college students whom you generously helped when I was in need.”

Paderewski reaped a harvest he had sown years before. And so it is. When we give, we receive. Maybe not exactly the thing we gave, and maybe not at the time it was given.

It is also true that when we give from our hearts, when we give in a spirit of love and compassion, we receive even more than we gave. It's a basic law of successful living. Powerful enough to change a life.

__________

(C) 2001 Steve Goodier; Life Support System, mailto:LifeSupport-subscribe@yahoogroups.com