Welcome to a place where Christ should be exalted and "Self" should be abased!!
Welcome to a place where the BIBLE can be discussed rationally, intelligently, and positively without unnecessary argument!!
Welcome to a place where prayer can be requested and encouraged!!
Welcome to a place where positive and encouraging thoughts from scripture can be shared in a caring and loving way!!
Welcome to a place away from all the arguments, recriminations, and negativity of the outside world!!
Welcome to a place of rest and safety!!
Welcome to a place where Philippians 2:3 is practiced: "Let nothing be done through strife or vainglory; but in lowliness of mind let each esteem other better than themselves."
Welcome to this Christian thread.
(Please leave all aggression, bitterness, and philosophy outside the door and please wipe your feet before coming inside!!)
I live in my own little world. But it's OK... They know me Here!
Welcome to a place where the BIBLE can be discussed rationally, intelligently, and positively without unnecessary argument!!
Welcome to a place where prayer can be requested and encouraged!!
Welcome to a place where positive and encouraging thoughts from scripture can be shared in a caring and loving way!!
Welcome to a place away from all the arguments, recriminations, and negativity of the outside world!!
Welcome to a place of rest and safety!!
Welcome to a place where Philippians 2:3 is practiced: "Let nothing be done through strife or vainglory; but in lowliness of mind let each esteem other better than themselves."
Welcome to this Christian thread.
(Please leave all aggression, bitterness, and philosophy outside the door and please wipe your feet before coming inside!!)
I live in my own little world. But it's OK... They know me Here!
The more I read that, I am through TIP TOEING THROUGH LIFE.. I'm old enough now to STOMP MY WAY!!!!!!!!!!:^O
yIPPEE!!!!!!!!:-x
yIPPEE!!!!!!!!:-x
Thanks, Nikki! 🙂 Ack..I'm nervous, but also very excited. 🙂
Spent the day with my very best friend (other than me Hubs). Please pray for her. Her husband of 20 years abandoned her and her 4 children. She is a wonderful Christian lady and is amazingly strong, but she has her moments, and today was one of them. 😞 She's financially strapped and getting desperate. I am taking her to get mother's allowance tomorrow on my lunch hour. Much as she hates the idea of welfare, her first priority is her children. THanks in advance for your prayers.
Will miss you guys from this thread, but I will take you all with me in my heart. :-x
Spent the day with my very best friend (other than me Hubs). Please pray for her. Her husband of 20 years abandoned her and her 4 children. She is a wonderful Christian lady and is amazingly strong, but she has her moments, and today was one of them. 😞 She's financially strapped and getting desperate. I am taking her to get mother's allowance tomorrow on my lunch hour. Much as she hates the idea of welfare, her first priority is her children. THanks in advance for your prayers.
Will miss you guys from this thread, but I will take you all with me in my heart. :-x
Good evening everyone. Hope your weekend is going well.
Good luck in the new job Julie...
Was roaming around the web and found the following site and thought some here may enjoy it....
http://noukendaibible.hp.infoseek.co.jp/html/10-24-04.html
Good luck in the new job Julie...
Was roaming around the web and found the following site and thought some here may enjoy it....
http://noukendaibible.hp.infoseek.co.jp/html/10-24-04.html
Oh by the way it is a Japenses site I think and it may ask to download the translator...just ignor that part as the page I posted is in English....
Good luck with the new job, Julie -- I'm sure you'll do very well and many people you encounter will be grateful that you are there for them.
Hi All:
Once in a while I find something in my email that should really be shared. It's a bit of a read but I hope you get as much out of it as I did.
Bette
Brian's Essay: The Room...
In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in the room. There were no distinguishing features except for the one wall covered with small index card files. They were like the ones in libraries that list titles by author or subject in alphabetical order. But these files, which stretched from floor to ceiling and seemingly endless in either direction, had very different headings. As I drew near the wall of files, the first to catch my attention was one that read "Girls I have liked." I opened it and began flipping through the cards. I quickly shut it, shocked to realize that I recognized the names written on each one. And then without being told, I knew exactly where I was.
This lifeless room with its small files was a crude catalog system for my life. Here were written the actions of my every moment, big and small, in a detail my memory couldn't match. A sense of wonder and curiosity, coupled with horror, stirred within me as I began randomly opening files and exploring their content. Some brought joy and sweet memories; others a sense of shame and regret so intense that I would look over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching.
A file named "Friends" was next to one marked "Friends I have betrayed." The titles ranged from the mundane to the outright weird "Books I Have Read," "Lies I Have Told," "Comfort I have Given," "Jokes I Have Laughed at." Some were almost hilarious in their exactness: "Things I've yelled at my brothers." Others I couldn't laugh at: "Things I Have Done in My Anger", "Things I Have Muttered Under My Breath at My Parents." I never ceased to be surprised by the contents.
Often there were many more cards than I expected. Sometimes fewer than I hoped. I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life I had lived. Could it be possible that I had the time in my years to fill each of these thousands or even millions of cards? But each card confirmed this truth. Each was written in my own handwriting. Each signed with my signature.
When I pulled out the file marked "TV Shows I have watched", I realized the files grew to contain their contents. The cards were packed tightly, and yet after two or three yards, I hadn't found the end of the file. I shut it, shamed, not so much by the quality of shows but more by the vast wasted time I knew that file represented.
When I came to a file marked "Lustful Thoughts," I felt a chill run through my body. I pulled the file out only an inch, not willing to test its size and drew out a card. I shuddered at its detailed content.
I felt sick to think that such a moment had been recorded. An almost animal rage broke on me. One thought dominated my mind: No one must ever see these cards! No one must ever see this room! I have to destroy them!" In insane frenzy I yanked the file out. Its size didn't matter now. I had to empty it and burn the cards. But as I took it at one end and began pounding it on the floor, I could not dislodge a single card. I became desperate and pulled out a card, only to find it as strong as steel when I tried to tear it.
Defeated and utterly helpless, I returned the file to its slot. Leaning my forehead against the wall, I let out a long, self-pitying sigh.
And then I saw it.. The title was "People I Have Shared the Gospel With." The handle was brighter than those around it, newer, almost unused. I pulled on its handle and a small box not more than three inches long fell into my hands. I could count the cards it contained on one hand.
And then the tears came. I began to weep. Sobs so deep that they hurt. They started in my stomach and shook through me. I fell on my knees and cried. I cried out of shame, from the overwhelming shame of it all. The rows of file shelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes. No one must ever, ever know of this room. I must lock it up and hide the key. But then as I pushed away the tears, I saw Him.
No, please not Him. Not here. Oh, anyone but Jesus. I watched helplessly as He began to open the files and read the cards. I couldn't bear to watch His response. And in the moments I could bring myself to look at His face, I saw a sorrow deeper than my own.
He seemed to intuitively go to the worst boxes. Why did He have to read every one? Finally He turned and looked at me from across the room. He looked at me with pity in His eyes. But this was a pity that didn't anger me. I dropped my head, covered my face with my hands and began to cry again. He walked over and put His arm around me. He could have said so many things. But He didn't say a word. He just cried with me.
Then He got up and walked back to the wall of files. Starting at one end of the room, He took out a file and, one by one, began to sign His name over mine on each card. "No!" I shouted rushing to Him. All I could find to say was "No, no," as I pulled the card from Him. His name shouldn't be on these cards. But there it was, written in red so rich, so dark, so alive. The name of Jesus covered mine. It was written with His blood. He gently took the card back. He smiled a sad smile and began to sign the cards. I don't think I'll ever understand how He did it so quickly, but the next instant it seemed I heard Him close the last file and walk back to my side.
He placed His hand on my shoulder and said, "It is finished." I stood up, and He led me out of the room. There was no lock on its door. There were still cards to be written.
"I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me."-Phil. 4:13 "For God so loved the world that He gave His only son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life." If you feel the same way forward it to as many people as you can so the love of Jesus will touch their lives also. My "People I shared the gospel with" file just got bigger, how about yours?
IF THERE IS ONE EMAIL THAT I HAVE READ THAT NEEDS TO GO AROUND THE WORLD, IT IS THIS ONE, PLEASE PASS THIS TO EVERYONE YOU KNOW, CHRISTIAN OR NOT! "LET'S FILL OUR OWN FILE CARD" AND MAY GOD BLESS YOU ALL!
You don't have to share this with anybody, no one will know whether you did or not, but you will know and so will He.
Once in a while I find something in my email that should really be shared. It's a bit of a read but I hope you get as much out of it as I did.
Bette
Brian's Essay: The Room...
In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in the room. There were no distinguishing features except for the one wall covered with small index card files. They were like the ones in libraries that list titles by author or subject in alphabetical order. But these files, which stretched from floor to ceiling and seemingly endless in either direction, had very different headings. As I drew near the wall of files, the first to catch my attention was one that read "Girls I have liked." I opened it and began flipping through the cards. I quickly shut it, shocked to realize that I recognized the names written on each one. And then without being told, I knew exactly where I was.
This lifeless room with its small files was a crude catalog system for my life. Here were written the actions of my every moment, big and small, in a detail my memory couldn't match. A sense of wonder and curiosity, coupled with horror, stirred within me as I began randomly opening files and exploring their content. Some brought joy and sweet memories; others a sense of shame and regret so intense that I would look over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching.
A file named "Friends" was next to one marked "Friends I have betrayed." The titles ranged from the mundane to the outright weird "Books I Have Read," "Lies I Have Told," "Comfort I have Given," "Jokes I Have Laughed at." Some were almost hilarious in their exactness: "Things I've yelled at my brothers." Others I couldn't laugh at: "Things I Have Done in My Anger", "Things I Have Muttered Under My Breath at My Parents." I never ceased to be surprised by the contents.
Often there were many more cards than I expected. Sometimes fewer than I hoped. I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life I had lived. Could it be possible that I had the time in my years to fill each of these thousands or even millions of cards? But each card confirmed this truth. Each was written in my own handwriting. Each signed with my signature.
When I pulled out the file marked "TV Shows I have watched", I realized the files grew to contain their contents. The cards were packed tightly, and yet after two or three yards, I hadn't found the end of the file. I shut it, shamed, not so much by the quality of shows but more by the vast wasted time I knew that file represented.
When I came to a file marked "Lustful Thoughts," I felt a chill run through my body. I pulled the file out only an inch, not willing to test its size and drew out a card. I shuddered at its detailed content.
I felt sick to think that such a moment had been recorded. An almost animal rage broke on me. One thought dominated my mind: No one must ever see these cards! No one must ever see this room! I have to destroy them!" In insane frenzy I yanked the file out. Its size didn't matter now. I had to empty it and burn the cards. But as I took it at one end and began pounding it on the floor, I could not dislodge a single card. I became desperate and pulled out a card, only to find it as strong as steel when I tried to tear it.
Defeated and utterly helpless, I returned the file to its slot. Leaning my forehead against the wall, I let out a long, self-pitying sigh.
And then I saw it.. The title was "People I Have Shared the Gospel With." The handle was brighter than those around it, newer, almost unused. I pulled on its handle and a small box not more than three inches long fell into my hands. I could count the cards it contained on one hand.
And then the tears came. I began to weep. Sobs so deep that they hurt. They started in my stomach and shook through me. I fell on my knees and cried. I cried out of shame, from the overwhelming shame of it all. The rows of file shelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes. No one must ever, ever know of this room. I must lock it up and hide the key. But then as I pushed away the tears, I saw Him.
No, please not Him. Not here. Oh, anyone but Jesus. I watched helplessly as He began to open the files and read the cards. I couldn't bear to watch His response. And in the moments I could bring myself to look at His face, I saw a sorrow deeper than my own.
He seemed to intuitively go to the worst boxes. Why did He have to read every one? Finally He turned and looked at me from across the room. He looked at me with pity in His eyes. But this was a pity that didn't anger me. I dropped my head, covered my face with my hands and began to cry again. He walked over and put His arm around me. He could have said so many things. But He didn't say a word. He just cried with me.
Then He got up and walked back to the wall of files. Starting at one end of the room, He took out a file and, one by one, began to sign His name over mine on each card. "No!" I shouted rushing to Him. All I could find to say was "No, no," as I pulled the card from Him. His name shouldn't be on these cards. But there it was, written in red so rich, so dark, so alive. The name of Jesus covered mine. It was written with His blood. He gently took the card back. He smiled a sad smile and began to sign the cards. I don't think I'll ever understand how He did it so quickly, but the next instant it seemed I heard Him close the last file and walk back to my side.
He placed His hand on my shoulder and said, "It is finished." I stood up, and He led me out of the room. There was no lock on its door. There were still cards to be written.
"I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me."-Phil. 4:13 "For God so loved the world that He gave His only son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life." If you feel the same way forward it to as many people as you can so the love of Jesus will touch their lives also. My "People I shared the gospel with" file just got bigger, how about yours?
IF THERE IS ONE EMAIL THAT I HAVE READ THAT NEEDS TO GO AROUND THE WORLD, IT IS THIS ONE, PLEASE PASS THIS TO EVERYONE YOU KNOW, CHRISTIAN OR NOT! "LET'S FILL OUR OWN FILE CARD" AND MAY GOD BLESS YOU ALL!
You don't have to share this with anybody, no one will know whether you did or not, but you will know and so will He.
Grandma's Hands
Grandma's some 77+ years, sat feebly on the patio bench. She didn't move, just sat with her head down staring at her hands. When I sat down beside her she didn't acknowledge my presence and the longer I sat I wondered if she was ok. Finally, not really wanting to disturb her but wanting to check on her at the same time, I asked her if she was ok.
She raised her head and looked at me and smiled. Yes, I'm fine, thank you for asking, she said in a clear strong voice.
I didn't mean to disturb you, grandma, but you were just sitting here staring at your hands and I wanted to make sure you were ok.
Have you ever looked at your hands, she asked. I mean really looked at your hands?
I slowly opened my hands and stared down at them. I turned them over, palms up and then palms down. No, I guess I had never really looked at my hands, as I tried to figure out the point she was making.
Grandma smiled and related this story:
Stop and think for a moment about the hands you have, how they have served you well throughout your years. These hands, though wrinkled, shriveled and weak have been the tools I have used all my life to reach out and grab and embrace life. They braced and caught my fall when as a toddler I crashed upon the floor. They put food in my mouth and clothes on my back. As a child my mother taught me to fold them in prayer. They tied my shoes and pulled on my boots.
They dried the tears of my children and caressed the love of my life. They held my young husband and wiped my tears when he went off to war.
They have been dirty, scraped and raw, swollen and bent. They were firm yet gentle when I held my newborn son. Decorated with my wedding band, they showed the world that I was married and loved someone special. They replied to the letters written home and trembled and shook when I buried my parents and spouse and watched as my daughter walked down the aisle.
Yet, they were strong and sure when I grabbed my child and jerked her away from danger when a car was going too fast, and they clasped my children lovingly for stitches, broken bones, and measles. They have held children, consoled neighbors, and shook in anger when I didn't understand. They have covered my face, combed my hair, and washed and cleansed the rest of my body, and those of my family. From the day a new baby was born, to the day I washed my first love's body and prepared him for his final viewing. They have been sticky, wet, bent, broken, dried, and raw.
To this day when not much of anything else of me works real well, these hands hold me up, lay me down, and continue to fold in prayer. These hands are the mark of where I've been and the richness of my life.
But more importantly it will be these hands that God will reach out and take when He leads me home. And with my hands He will lift me to His side and there I will use these hands to touch the face of Christ - God Bless Grandma.
This is simply too beautiful not to share.
Life is like a piano . . .what you get out of it depends on how you play it.
*hugsz back*
You're up early . . . I'm thinking I never should've stopped and paid for a hotel room if I'm staying awake!!
Oh well, getting work done at least. It's too bad I don't have my bookkeeping on this computer!
You're up early . . . I'm thinking I never should've stopped and paid for a hotel room if I'm staying awake!!
Oh well, getting work done at least. It's too bad I don't have my bookkeeping on this computer!
Life is like a piano . . .what you get out of it depends on how you play it.
Nellie, what a beautiful post -- the picture says it all doesn't it? Even though those those hands are wrinkled and bent with age, they're just what this little kittens needs to make him feel safe & loved. Thank you so much for posting it.
