I am sorry to those that check out this blog on a regular basis looking for something new and not finding it. We have been working real hard at the church trying to get things updated and I am glad to say that the projects that we have been working on are finally starting to finish up. I know that as soon as these things complete, I will be able to update this site more often.
I hope you have enjoyed the stories that I have shared with you over the past few months, I really believe that there is meaning to them and is something that can help even if only to give you a laugh or two. Time is so short today that we really need to be ready for the Lord's soon coming. There is so much going on in the world today, so many things that can get you distracted from the things that God would have you focused in on. We have to keep our focus on him and keep pressing toward the mark of the high calling like Paul says. Don't let the pressures of this life get you down. Don't allow the things that are coming against you to pull you away from the things that God would have you do. You can come up with a lot of excuses why you couldn't do this or couldn't do that, but when you are standing before God and he asked why you didn't do what he asked you to do, do you think the excuses will work? Will there be one good enough to give him? Will you just say, "God, I had too much going on and I just couldn't get to it". What if he would have done the same to us and said, "I know you need a saviour, but I am just too busy to send one, you will just have to find someone else to be your saviour. We would have never found anyone willing or able to do what Christ has done for us.
So, remember, do not get to busy not to do the things God wants you to do. Remember what the word busy stands for:
B-eing
U-nder
S-atan
Y-oke
Don't be that way.
God Bless!
Thursday, May 03, 2007
Monday, April 16, 2007
A New School Prayer
Since the Pledge of Allegiance and The Lord's Prayer are not allowed in most public schools anymore because the word "God" is mentioned....a kid in Arizona wrote a NEW School prayer.
Now I sit me down in school
Where praying is against the rule
For this great nation under God
Finds mention of Him very odd.
If Scripture now the class recites,
It violates the Bill of Rights.
And anytime my head I bow
Becomes a Federal matter now.
Our hair can be purple, orange or green,
That's no offense; it's a freedom scene.
The law is specific, the law is precise.
Prayers spoken aloud are a serious vice.
For praying in a public hall
Might offend someone with no faith at all.
In silence alone we must meditate,
God's name is prohibited by the state.
We're allowed to cuss and dress like freaks,
And pierce our noses, tongues and cheeks.
They've outlawed guns, but FIRST the Bible.
To quote the Good Book makes me liable.
We can elect a pregnant Senior Queen,
And the 'unwed daddy,' our Senior King.
It's "inappropriate" to teach right from wrong,
We're taught that such "judgments" do not belong.
We can get our condoms and birth controls,
Study witchcraft, vampires and totem poles.
But the Ten Commandments are not allowed,
No word of God must reach this crowd.
It's scary here I must confess,
When chaos reigns the school's a mess.
So, Lord, this silent plea I make:
Should I be shot; My soul please take!
Amen
Now I sit me down in school
Where praying is against the rule
For this great nation under God
Finds mention of Him very odd.
If Scripture now the class recites,
It violates the Bill of Rights.
And anytime my head I bow
Becomes a Federal matter now.
Our hair can be purple, orange or green,
That's no offense; it's a freedom scene.
The law is specific, the law is precise.
Prayers spoken aloud are a serious vice.
For praying in a public hall
Might offend someone with no faith at all.
In silence alone we must meditate,
God's name is prohibited by the state.
We're allowed to cuss and dress like freaks,
And pierce our noses, tongues and cheeks.
They've outlawed guns, but FIRST the Bible.
To quote the Good Book makes me liable.
We can elect a pregnant Senior Queen,
And the 'unwed daddy,' our Senior King.
It's "inappropriate" to teach right from wrong,
We're taught that such "judgments" do not belong.
We can get our condoms and birth controls,
Study witchcraft, vampires and totem poles.
But the Ten Commandments are not allowed,
No word of God must reach this crowd.
It's scary here I must confess,
When chaos reigns the school's a mess.
So, Lord, this silent plea I make:
Should I be shot; My soul please take!
Amen
Monday, April 09, 2007
Shirley Goodnest & Marcy
A mom was concerned about her kindergarten son walking to school. He didn't want his mother to walk with him. She wanted to give him the feeling that he had some independence but yet know that he was safe.
So she had an idea of how to handle it. She asked a neighbor if she would please follow him to school in the mornings, staying at a distance, so he probably wouldn't notice her.The neighbor said that since she was up early with her toddler anyway, it would be a good way for them to get some exercise as well, so she agreed.
The next school day, the neighbor and her little girl set out following behind Timmy as he walked to school with another neighbor boy he knew. She did this for the whole week.
As the boys walked and chatted, kicking stones and twigs, Timmy's little friend noticed the same lady was following them as she seemed to do every day all week.
Finally he said to Timmy, "Have you noticed that lady following us to school all week? Do you know her?"
Timmy nonchalantly replied, "Yeah, I know who she is."
The friend said, "Well, who is she?"
"That's just Shirley Goodnest," Timmy replied, "and her daughter Marcy."
"Shirley Goodnest? Who the heck is she and why is she following us?"
"Well," Timmy explained, "every night my Mom makes me say the 23rd Psalm with my prayers, 'cuz she worries about me so much. And in the Psalm, it says, 'Shirley Goodnest and Marcy shall follow me all the days of my life', so I guess I'll just have to get used to it!"
The Lord bless you and keep you; the Lord make his face to shine upon you, and be gracious to you; the Lord lift His countenance upon you, and give you peace.
(Numbers 6:24-26) May Shirley Goodnest and Marcy be with you today and always.
So she had an idea of how to handle it. She asked a neighbor if she would please follow him to school in the mornings, staying at a distance, so he probably wouldn't notice her.The neighbor said that since she was up early with her toddler anyway, it would be a good way for them to get some exercise as well, so she agreed.
The next school day, the neighbor and her little girl set out following behind Timmy as he walked to school with another neighbor boy he knew. She did this for the whole week.
As the boys walked and chatted, kicking stones and twigs, Timmy's little friend noticed the same lady was following them as she seemed to do every day all week.
Finally he said to Timmy, "Have you noticed that lady following us to school all week? Do you know her?"
Timmy nonchalantly replied, "Yeah, I know who she is."
The friend said, "Well, who is she?"
"That's just Shirley Goodnest," Timmy replied, "and her daughter Marcy."
"Shirley Goodnest? Who the heck is she and why is she following us?"
"Well," Timmy explained, "every night my Mom makes me say the 23rd Psalm with my prayers, 'cuz she worries about me so much. And in the Psalm, it says, 'Shirley Goodnest and Marcy shall follow me all the days of my life', so I guess I'll just have to get used to it!"
The Lord bless you and keep you; the Lord make his face to shine upon you, and be gracious to you; the Lord lift His countenance upon you, and give you peace.
(Numbers 6:24-26) May Shirley Goodnest and Marcy be with you today and always.
Saturday, March 31, 2007
THE STRANGER
A few months before I was born, my Dad met a stranger who was new to our small town.
From the beginning, Dad was fascinated with this enchanting newcomer and soon invited him to live with our family. The stranger was quickly accepted and was around to welcome me into the world a few months later.
As I grew up, I never questioned his place in my family. In my young mind, he had a special niche. My parents were complementary instructors: Mom taught me the word of God, and Dad taught me to obey it. But the stranger He was our storyteller. He would keep us spellbound for hours on end with adventures, mysteries and comedies.
If I wanted to know anything about politics, history or science, he always knew the answers about the past, understood the present and even seemed able to predict the future! He took my family to the first major league ballgame. He made me laugh, and he made me cry. The stranger never stopped talking, but Dad didn't seem to mind.
Sometimes, Mom would get up quietly while the rest of us were shushing each other to listen to what he had to say, and she would go to her room and read her books (I wonder now if she ever prayed for the stranger to leave.)
Dad ruled our household with certain moral convictions, but the stranger never felt obligated to honor them. Profanity, for example, was not allowed in our home... not from us, our friends or any visitors. Our long time visitor, however, got away with four-letter words that burned my ears and made my dad squirm and my mother blush.
My Dad was a teetotaler who didn't permit alcohol in the home, not even for cooking. But the stranger encouraged us to try it on a regular basis. He made cigarettes look cool, cigars manly and pipes distinguished. He talked freely (much too freely!) about sex. His comments were sometimes blatant, sometimes suggestive, and generally embarrassing.
I now know that my early concepts about relationships were influenced strongly by the stranger. Time after time, he opposed the values of my parents, yet he was seldom rebuked... and NEVER asked to leave.
More than fifty years have passed since the stranger moved in with our family. He has blended right in and is not nearly as fascinating as he was at first. Still, if you were to walk into my parent's den today, you would still find him sitting over in his corner, waiting for someone to listen to him talk and watch him draw his pictures. His name?....Well, we just call him, "TV."
**Note: He has a younger sister now. We call her, "Computer."**
From the beginning, Dad was fascinated with this enchanting newcomer and soon invited him to live with our family. The stranger was quickly accepted and was around to welcome me into the world a few months later.
As I grew up, I never questioned his place in my family. In my young mind, he had a special niche. My parents were complementary instructors: Mom taught me the word of God, and Dad taught me to obey it. But the stranger He was our storyteller. He would keep us spellbound for hours on end with adventures, mysteries and comedies.
If I wanted to know anything about politics, history or science, he always knew the answers about the past, understood the present and even seemed able to predict the future! He took my family to the first major league ballgame. He made me laugh, and he made me cry. The stranger never stopped talking, but Dad didn't seem to mind.
Sometimes, Mom would get up quietly while the rest of us were shushing each other to listen to what he had to say, and she would go to her room and read her books (I wonder now if she ever prayed for the stranger to leave.)
Dad ruled our household with certain moral convictions, but the stranger never felt obligated to honor them. Profanity, for example, was not allowed in our home... not from us, our friends or any visitors. Our long time visitor, however, got away with four-letter words that burned my ears and made my dad squirm and my mother blush.
My Dad was a teetotaler who didn't permit alcohol in the home, not even for cooking. But the stranger encouraged us to try it on a regular basis. He made cigarettes look cool, cigars manly and pipes distinguished. He talked freely (much too freely!) about sex. His comments were sometimes blatant, sometimes suggestive, and generally embarrassing.
I now know that my early concepts about relationships were influenced strongly by the stranger. Time after time, he opposed the values of my parents, yet he was seldom rebuked... and NEVER asked to leave.
More than fifty years have passed since the stranger moved in with our family. He has blended right in and is not nearly as fascinating as he was at first. Still, if you were to walk into my parent's den today, you would still find him sitting over in his corner, waiting for someone to listen to him talk and watch him draw his pictures. His name?....Well, we just call him, "TV."
**Note: He has a younger sister now. We call her, "Computer."**
Friday, March 30, 2007
Texas....Gotta Love It!
Texas ...gotta love it!
A man in Topeka , Kansas , decided to write a book about churches around the country. He started by flying to San Francisco and started working east from there.
Going to a very large church he began taking photographs and making notes. He spotted a golden telephone on the vestibule wall and was intrigued with a sign that read, "$10,000 per minute."
Seeking out the pastor, he asked about the phone and the sign. The pastor answered that the golden phone is, in fact, a direct line to Heaven, and if he pays the price, he can talk directly to God. The man thanked the pastor and continued on his way.
As he continued to visit churches in Seattle , Salt Lake City , Denver , Chicago , Milwaukee , and around the United States , he found more such phones with the same sign and the same explanation from each pastor. Finally, the man arrived in the great state of Texas . Upon entering a church, behold, he saw the usual golden telephone. But THIS time, the sign read: "Calls: 25 cents"!? Fascinated, the man asked to speak with the pastor.
"Reverend, I have been in cities all across the country and in each church I have found this golden telephone, and have been told it is a direct line to Heaven, and that I could use it to talk to God.... But in 20 other churches, the cost was $10,000 per minute. Your sign says 25 cents per call.
....Why is that?(I just love this part!)
The pastor, smiling kindly, replied: "Son, you're in Texas now and it's a local call."
May the LORD bless your day
A man in Topeka , Kansas , decided to write a book about churches around the country. He started by flying to San Francisco and started working east from there.
Going to a very large church he began taking photographs and making notes. He spotted a golden telephone on the vestibule wall and was intrigued with a sign that read, "$10,000 per minute."
Seeking out the pastor, he asked about the phone and the sign. The pastor answered that the golden phone is, in fact, a direct line to Heaven, and if he pays the price, he can talk directly to God. The man thanked the pastor and continued on his way.
As he continued to visit churches in Seattle , Salt Lake City , Denver , Chicago , Milwaukee , and around the United States , he found more such phones with the same sign and the same explanation from each pastor. Finally, the man arrived in the great state of Texas . Upon entering a church, behold, he saw the usual golden telephone. But THIS time, the sign read: "Calls: 25 cents"!? Fascinated, the man asked to speak with the pastor.
"Reverend, I have been in cities all across the country and in each church I have found this golden telephone, and have been told it is a direct line to Heaven, and that I could use it to talk to God.... But in 20 other churches, the cost was $10,000 per minute. Your sign says 25 cents per call.
....Why is that?(I just love this part!)
The pastor, smiling kindly, replied: "Son, you're in Texas now and it's a local call."
May the LORD bless your day
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Jesus & the Mud Puddle
JESUS & THE MUD PUDDLE (You gotta believe a 6 year old)
Howard County Sheriff Jerry Marr got a disturbing call one Saturday afternoon a few months ago. His 6-year-old grandson Mikey had been hit by a car while fishing in Green town with his dad. The father and sonwere near a bridge by the Kokomo Reservoir when a woman lost control of her car, slid off the bridge and hit Mikey at a rate of about 50 mph.
Sheriff Marr had seen the results of accidents like this and feared the worst. When he got to Saint Joseph Hospital, he rushed through the emergency room to find Mikey conscious and in fairly good spirits.
"Mikey, what happened?" Sheriff Marr asked.
Mikey replied, "Well, Papaw, I was fishin' with Dad, and some lady runned me over, I flew into a mud puddle, and broke my fishin' pole and I didn't get to catch no fish!"
As it turned out, the impact propelled Mikey about 500 feet, over a few trees and an embankment and in the middle of a mud puddle. His only injuries were to his right femur bone which had broken in two places. Mikey had surgery to place pins in his leg. Otherwise the boy is fine. Since all the boy could talk about was that his fishing pole was broken, the Sheriff went out to Wal-mart and bought him a new one while he was in surgery so he could have it when he came out.
The next day the Sheriff sat with Mikey to keep him company in the hospital. Mikey was enjoying his new fishing pole and talked about when he could go fishing again as he cast into the trash can.
When they were alone, Mikey, just as matter-of-factly, said, "Papaw, did you know Jesus is real?
Well," the Sheriff replied, a little startled. "Yes, Jesus is real to all who believe in him and love him in their hearts."
"No," said Mikey. "I mean Jesus is REALLY real."
"What do you mean?" asked the Sheriff.
"I know he's real 'cause I saw him." said Mikey, still casting into the trash can.
"You did?" said the Sheriff.
"Yep," said Mikey. "When that lady runned me over and broke my fishing pole, Jesus caught me in his arms and laid me down in the mud puddle."
GIVES YOU GLORY BUMPS DOESN'T IT!
Howard County Sheriff Jerry Marr got a disturbing call one Saturday afternoon a few months ago. His 6-year-old grandson Mikey had been hit by a car while fishing in Green town with his dad. The father and sonwere near a bridge by the Kokomo Reservoir when a woman lost control of her car, slid off the bridge and hit Mikey at a rate of about 50 mph.
Sheriff Marr had seen the results of accidents like this and feared the worst. When he got to Saint Joseph Hospital, he rushed through the emergency room to find Mikey conscious and in fairly good spirits.
"Mikey, what happened?" Sheriff Marr asked.
Mikey replied, "Well, Papaw, I was fishin' with Dad, and some lady runned me over, I flew into a mud puddle, and broke my fishin' pole and I didn't get to catch no fish!"
As it turned out, the impact propelled Mikey about 500 feet, over a few trees and an embankment and in the middle of a mud puddle. His only injuries were to his right femur bone which had broken in two places. Mikey had surgery to place pins in his leg. Otherwise the boy is fine. Since all the boy could talk about was that his fishing pole was broken, the Sheriff went out to Wal-mart and bought him a new one while he was in surgery so he could have it when he came out.
The next day the Sheriff sat with Mikey to keep him company in the hospital. Mikey was enjoying his new fishing pole and talked about when he could go fishing again as he cast into the trash can.
When they were alone, Mikey, just as matter-of-factly, said, "Papaw, did you know Jesus is real?
Well," the Sheriff replied, a little startled. "Yes, Jesus is real to all who believe in him and love him in their hearts."
"No," said Mikey. "I mean Jesus is REALLY real."
"What do you mean?" asked the Sheriff.
"I know he's real 'cause I saw him." said Mikey, still casting into the trash can.
"You did?" said the Sheriff.
"Yep," said Mikey. "When that lady runned me over and broke my fishing pole, Jesus caught me in his arms and laid me down in the mud puddle."
GIVES YOU GLORY BUMPS DOESN'T IT!
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
DRUG PROBLEM
Something to think about....
The other day, someone at a store in our town read that a Methamphetamine lab had been found in an old farmhouse in the adjoining county and he asked me a rhetorical question.
Why didn't we have a drug problem when you and I were going up?
I replied, I had a drug problem when I was young:
I was drug to church on Sunday morning.
I was drug to church for weddings and funerals.
I was drug to family reunions and community socials no matter the weather.
I was drug by my ears when I was disrespectful to adults.
I was also drug to the woodshed when I disobeyed my parents, told a lie, brought home a bad report card, did not speak with respect, spoke ill of the teacher or the preacher, or if I didn't put forth my best effort in everything that was asked of me.
I was drug to the kitchen sink to have my mouth wasked out with soap if I uttered a profanity.
I was drug out to pull weeds in mom's garden and flower beds and cockleburs out of dad's fields.
I was drug to the homes of family, friends and neighbors to help out some poor soul who had no one to mow the yard, repair the clothesline, or chop some firewood: and if my mother had ever known that I took a single dime as a tip for this kindness, she would have drug me back to the woodshed.
Those drugs are still in my veins and they affect my behavior in everything I do, say, or think.
They are stronger than cocaine, crack, or heroin; and, if today's children had this kind of drug problem, America would be a better place.
God bless the parents who drugged us.
The other day, someone at a store in our town read that a Methamphetamine lab had been found in an old farmhouse in the adjoining county and he asked me a rhetorical question.
Why didn't we have a drug problem when you and I were going up?
I replied, I had a drug problem when I was young:
I was drug to church on Sunday morning.
I was drug to church for weddings and funerals.
I was drug to family reunions and community socials no matter the weather.
I was drug by my ears when I was disrespectful to adults.
I was also drug to the woodshed when I disobeyed my parents, told a lie, brought home a bad report card, did not speak with respect, spoke ill of the teacher or the preacher, or if I didn't put forth my best effort in everything that was asked of me.
I was drug to the kitchen sink to have my mouth wasked out with soap if I uttered a profanity.
I was drug out to pull weeds in mom's garden and flower beds and cockleburs out of dad's fields.
I was drug to the homes of family, friends and neighbors to help out some poor soul who had no one to mow the yard, repair the clothesline, or chop some firewood: and if my mother had ever known that I took a single dime as a tip for this kindness, she would have drug me back to the woodshed.
Those drugs are still in my veins and they affect my behavior in everything I do, say, or think.
They are stronger than cocaine, crack, or heroin; and, if today's children had this kind of drug problem, America would be a better place.
God bless the parents who drugged us.
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