At the age of ten, I did not know a thing about the Lord
and all of his glory. The year of my fifth grad I had gotten the worst
news ever, my mother had cancer. I remember when my brother asked the
question that made my heart jump, he asked "Mom, can you die from
this?" In her answer she replied that it could kill her, but God
will be with her every step of the way.
My mother ended up passing away only months after. I was so scared to
be a girl without a motherly figure around. I told my father that I wanted
to attend a church whenever we got settled into our new house that we
had moved into, just after my mothers death. He agreed, but it was so
hard adjusting, that all we had time to do was worry.
My father started to date, and soon after I had a step-mother. She attended
the First Church of God, in which now I attend. I started to attend there
once in a while, whenever I had time. Now, I can't miss a chance to be
in the house o
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"O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy
victory? The sting of death is sin; and the strength of sin is the law.
But thanks be to God, which giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus
Christ." -
I Corinthians 15:55-57
Once upon a time, twin boys were conceived. Weeks passed
and the twins developed. As their awareness gew, they laughed for joy:
"Isn't it great that we were conceived? Isn't it great to be alive?"
Together the twins explored their world. When they found
their mother's cord that gave them life, they sang for joy! "How great
is our mother's love, that she shares her own life with us!"
As weeks stretched into months, the twins noticed how
much each was changing. "What does it mean?" asked one.
"It means our stay in this world is drawing to an end."
said the other.
I had the privilege of going back to Romania for the fourth time. In
1994 & 95. My wife and I went with a group from our church. Then
in 1996, my wife, our 19-year-old son, and I went and conducted children's
rally in Buzau Romania. I went back in September of 1996. This trip
was a very unusual trip. First of all, I am not a preacher, nor have
I ever felt the call to preach. Yet, God permitted me to give 19 messages
(sermons) during these two weeks in Romania. Two of these sermons were
for a five year old little girl. This is the story I would like to share
with you. I pray that it will be a blessing.
CAMELLIA
The first three days of the trip were filled with fear, as I felt evil
surrounding me. I wanted to run, to escape. I tried unsuccessfully to
catch a flight home. With the pastor praying for me, God showed me a
new direction.
I know you're tired. I know you feel overwhelmed. You
may feel as though this crisis, this problem, this hard time will last
forever.
It won't. You are almost through.
You don't just "think" it has been hard; it has been
hard. You have been tested, tried, and retested on what you have learned.
Your beliefs and your faith have been tried in fire.
You have believed, then doubted, then, worked at believing some more.
You have had to have faith even when you could not see or imagine what
you were asked to believe. Others around you may have tried to convince
you not to believe in what you were hoping you could believe.
You have had opposition. You have not gotten to this
place with total support and joy. You have had to work hard, in spite
of what was happening around you. Sometimes, what motivated you was
anger; sometimes fear.
My grandparents were married for over half a century,
and played their own special game from the time they had met each other.
The goal of their game was to write the word "shmily" in a surprise
place for the other to find. They took turns leaving "shmily" around
the house, and as soon as one of them discovered it, it was their turn
to hide it once more.
They dragged "shmily" with their fingers through the
sugar and flour containers to await whoever was preparing the next meal.
They smeared it in the dew on the windows overlooking the patio where
my grandma always fed us warm, homemade pudding with blue food coloring.
"Shmily" was written in the steam left on the mirror after a hot shower,
where it would reappear bath after bath. At one point, my grandmother
even unrolled an entire roll of toilet paper to leave "shmily" on the
very last sheet.
There was no end to the places "shmily" would pop up.
Li
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Lord, I am a runaway.
I'm on the run all day.
Were always on the go,
some Say, I don't care and so.
Lord, I'm looking for a place to hide.
I may be found at a Hobo's side.
Days we go without food,
And we have changing moods.
Lord, some of us have crazy attitudes,
And some are acting bad and cool.
Others are looking for love
With help it will come from up above.
Lord, some of us run from trouble at home.
Pennies we don't have not even a comb.
Help us cope with what where running from.
I know were smart, but not dumb.
Lord; watch over us through the night,
And guide us in a way that's right.
Remember a runaway in your prayers,
Because it really is a nightmare. Amen
With Christmas just days away, the streets were decorated
with colorful lights, and the department stores brimmed to overflowing
with every item imaginable. There were new gadgets for the technology
enthusiast, and household items which guaranteed to lighten the overburdened
work load of those who could afford them. There was jewelry especially
designed for the new millennium, endless racks of clothing in every size,
color, and style, and scores and scores of toy cars and trucks and baby
dolls that seemed more real than they ought. Every direction your
eyes could travel carried the busy shopper to yet another dimension of
what life could be. Surely, this Christmas would be like none other.
This particular weekend was typical for the height of the Christmas season.
Every store was crowded with pushy people, grabbing up armloads of items
they neither needed nor could afford. As people took advantage of
the "
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Nearly a decade ago the office consisted of an old dusty
desk, three rattling computers, two for Jason and one for his two employees
to share, the computers maxed out with the best software on expanded
hard drives. Their best piece had been their scanner, now long retired,
but top of the line and taking up a good portion of their precious desk
space.
Time had changed things, opened up unbelievable doors of opportunity.
Today the computers were hidden away in adjoining office space, over
an expanse of three floors. This old room had been transformed into
a conference room where potential investors and clients were gladly
welcomed. Their company name was equated with advertising capability
and proficiency. Polished award plaques lined the conference room wall,
honoring great moments of brilliance and the steady, enduring hard work
his employees put in behind him.
I was then an only child who had everything I could ever
want. But even a pretty, spoiled and rich kid could get lonely once
in a while so when Mom told me that she was pregnant, I was ecstatic.
I imagined how wonderful you would be and how we'd always be together
and how much you would look like me. So, when you were born, I looked
at your tiny hands and feet and marveled at how beautiful you were.
We took you home and I showed you proudly to my friends. They would
touch you and sometimes pinch you, but you never reacted.
When you were five months old, some things began to bother
Mom. You seemed so unmoving and numb, and your cry sounded odd -- almost
like a kitten's. So we brought you to many doctors.
The thirteenth doctor who looked at you quietly said
you have the "cry du chat" (pronounced kree-do-sha) syndrome, 'cry of
the cat' in French. When I asked what that
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I just had to write to tell you how much I love you and care for you.
Yesterday, I saw you walking and laughing with your friends; I hoped that
soon you'd want Me to walk along with you, too. So, I painted you a sunset
to close your day and whispered a cool breeze to refresh you. I waited;
you never called. I just kept on loving you.
As I watched you fall asleep last night, I wanted so much to touch you.
I sp
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When the bundle was nestled in her arms and she moved
the fold of cloth to look upon his tiny face, she gasped. The doctor
turned quickly and looked out the tall hospital window. The baby had
been born without ears.
Time proved that the baby's hearing was perfect. It was
only his appearance that was marred. When he rushed home from school
one day and flung himself into his mother's arms, she sighed, knowing
that his life was to be a succession of heartbreaks.
He blurted out the tragedy. "A boy, a big boy ... called
me a freak."
He grew up, handsome for his misfortune. A favorite with
his fellow students, he might have been class president, but for that.
He developed a gift, a talent for literature and music. "But you might
mingle with other young people," his mother reproved him, but felt a
kindness in her he
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A man had a little daughter -- an only and much-beloved child. He lived
for her -- she was his life. So when shem became ill and her illness resisted
the efforts of them best obtainable physicians, he became like a man possessed,
moving heaven and earth to bring about her restoration to health. His
best efforts proved unavailing and the child died.
The father was totally irreconcilable. He became a bitter recluse, shutting
himself away from his many friends and refusing every activity that might
restore his poise and bring him back to his normal self. But one night
he had a dream. He was in Heaven, and was witnessing a grand pageant of
all the little child angels. They were marching in an apparently endless
line past the Great White Throne.
Every white-robed angelic child carried a candle. He noticed that one
child's candle was
not lighted. Then he saw that
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One day, I woke early in the morning to watch the sunrise.
Ah, the beauty of God's creation is beyond description.
As I watched, I praised God for His beautiful work.
As I sat there, I felt the Lord's presence with me.
was
not lighted. Then he saw that
