Stories


One Guy Didn't
It Takes Guts to Say "Jesus" 
MY COMMITMENT AS A CHRISTIAN 
I Saw You Today!
TABLE FOR TWO
Strange, Isn't it?
THE RICH FAMILY IN CHURCH 
What was in Jeremy's Egg? 

One Guy Didn't 3 guys were tried for crimes against humanity. 2 guys committed crimes. 1 guy didn't. 3 guys were given government trials. 2 guys were given fair trials. 1 guy didn't. 3 guys were whipped and beaten. 2 guys had it coming. 1 guy didn't. 3 guys were given crosses to carry. 2 guys earned their crosses. 1 guy didn't 3 guys were mocked and spit at along the way. 2 guys cursed and spit back. 1 guy didn't. 3 guys were nailed to crosses. 2 guys deserved it. 1 guy didn't. 3 guys agonized over their abandonment. 2 guys had reason to be abandoned. 1 guy didn't. 3 guys talked while hanging on their crosses. 2 guys argued. 1 guy didn't. 3 guys knew death was coming. 2 guys resisted. 1 guy didn't. 1. 2. 3 guys died on 3 crosses. 3 days later, 2 guys remained in their graves. 1 guy didn't. back to top
It Takes Guts to Say "Jesus"

This is a true story of something that happened just a few years ago at USC. There was a professor of philosophy there who was a deeply committed atheist. His primary goal for one required class was to spend the entire semester attempting to prove that God couldn't exist. His students were always afraid to argue with him because of his impeccable logic. For twenty years, he had taught this class and no one had ever had the courage to go against him. Sure, some had argued in class at times, but no one had ever 'really gone against him' (you'll see what I mean later.) Nobody would go against him because he had reputation. At the end of every semester, on the last day, he would say to his class of 300 students, "If there is anyone here who still believes in God, stand up!" In twenty years, no one had ever stood up. They knew what he was going to do next. He would say, "Because anyone who believes in God is a fool. If God existed, he could stop this piece of chalk from hitting the ground and breaking. Such a ssimple task to prove that he is God, and yet he can't do it." And every year, he would drop the chalk onto the floor of the class room and it would shatter into a hundred pieces. All of the students could do nothing but stop and stare. Most of the students were convinced that God couldn't exist. Certainly, a number of Christians had slipped through, but for twenty years, they had been too afraid to stand up.

Well, a few years ago, there was a freshman who happened to get enrolled in the class. He was a Christian, and had heard the stories about this professor. He had to take the class because it was one of the required classes for his major. And he was afraid. But for three months that semester, he prayed every morning that he would have the courage to stand up no matter what the professor said or what the class thought. Nothing they said or did could ever shatter his faith, he hoped. Finally the day came. The professor said, "If anyone here that still believes in God, stand up!" The professor and the class of 300 people looked at him, shocked, as he stood up at the back of the classroom. The professor shouted, "You FOOL!! If God existed, he could keep this piece of chalk from breaking when it hits the ground!" He proceeded to drop the chalk but as he did, it slipped out of his fingers, off his shirt cuff, onto the pleats of his pants, down his leg, and off his shoe. As it hit the ground, it simply rolled away, unbroken. The professor's jaw dropped as he stared at the chalk. He looked up at the young man and then ran out of the lecture hall. The young man who had stood up proceeded to walk to the front of the classroom and share his faith in Jesus for the next half hour. 300 students stayed and listened as he told of God's love for them and of his power through Jesus. "Yet to all who receive HIM, to those who believe in HIS name, He gave the right to become children of God--children not born of natural descent, nor of human decision or a husband's will, but born of GOD." "But He knows the way that I take. When He tests me, I will come forth as gold."

**WOULD YOU HAVE STOOD UP?**

Job 23:10 

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The following lines were penned by a young pastor in Africa and tacked to a wall in his house. MY COMMITMENT AS A CHRISTIAN: I'm part of the fellowship of the unashamed. I have stepped over the line. The decision has been made. I'm a disciple of Jesus Christ. I won't look back, let up, slow down, back away, or be still. My past is redeemed, my present makes sense, my future is secure. I'm finished and done with low living, sight walking, small planning, smooth knees, colorless dreams, tamed visions, mundane talking, cheap living, and dwarfed goals. I no longer need preeminence, prosperity, position, promotions, plaudits, or popularity. I don't have to be right, first, tops, recognized, praised, regarded, or rewarded. I now live by faith, lean on His presence, walk by patience, lift by prayer, and labor by power. My face is set, my gait is fast, my goal is heaven, my road is narrow, my way rough, my companions few, my Guide reliable, my mission clear. I cannot be bought, deluded, or delayed. I will not flinch in the face of sacrifice, hesitate in the presence of the adversary, negotiate at the table of the enemy, or meander in the maze of mediocrity. I won't give up, shut up, let up, until I have stayed up, stored up, prayed up, paid up, preached up for the cause of Christ. I am a disciple of Jesus. I must go till He comes, give till I drop, preach till all know, and work till He stops me. And when He comes for His own, He will have no problem recognizing me-my banner will be clear! back to top
I Saw You Today! I saw you today. Did you see Me? As a matter of fact, before you even woke up this morning I stood over you and watched you sleep for the longest time. A couple of times I even reached out and touched your face thinking, "you're the greatest." Waiting patiently for morning to come, I thought about getting to spend some time with you before your busy day. Finally, your eyes blink a few times and consciousness returns. I'm there and waiting for us to get the day started right but you just get up and walk past Me. A few of you though did say, "Father, thank you for this day and for the gift of eternal life that you have given me. Please let everything I do today bring glory to YOU that others would see your Son and my Savior. In His name. Amen". Wow, I am pumped! I have so many unbelievable things planned for you today. It is going to be fantastic! So I went to school with you today. And I watched you. You were talking with some of your friends and I kept waiting to have My chance to say something, to be part of the conversation but you never gave Me a chance. Was what you were talking about more important than Me? We ate lunch together. You and Me. Some of your other church friends were there too. You know, typical conversations.....but it all changed. The topic turned from "typical" things to someone. Someone in your youth group...My youth group. One of Mine. I asked you to say something, to make them stop saving those things. I told you "it's not right to say these things, to be a part of it. If you won't say something, walk away." But you didn't. You stayed there and participated. Oh no, you may not have said anything negative, but by staying there you participated. I walked down the hall with you. Between classes those halls are really packed! Students everywhere. And I came face to face with you. One of the really cool things about being Me is that I can be standing right next to you and I can approach you as well. And I did. But you didn't recognize Me. I didn't approach you as a grown man, I was a student. The one that everybody picks on for no reason at all. I'm just shy, I keep to myself for the most part. I don't bother anybody, but I seem to be everyone's target. You know who I am. Then I saw you coming down the hall. Finally, I'll get some encouragement. A smile. Maybe a "hey, how's it going?"...SOME sort of acknowledgment! As I get closer and closer to you my heart beats faster and faster until we are just a few feet apart. I look you straight in the eyes....and my heart stops as you walk past me! You came face to face with the Savior you say you love and you didn't even recognize Me! If your eyes could have only been opened for a little while to see all the real danger you came into contact with today. Guess who else saw you today? Satan. That's right. We were walking down the hall and I saw him coming. I moved from behind you to the front. I was determined that nothing in heaven or earth would move Me from in front of you. The infamous Satan came within a few feet and stopped. He knows who I am. He knows that I've beaten him before and that he will be beaten once more for all of time! But wait....I feel you brush by Me, away from My protection, and you go to the devil himself. You reached out and took his gnarled hand, then he looked at me and grinned. Of course, you've never say "I love Satan" but by choosing your way and the world's way instead of My way, that's what you are saying. As we walked down the hall I noticed that you didn't seem very happy, kind of beat down; so I did something; I took a look inside your heart. Want to know what I was looking for? Your Joy. I found Myself among heaps and heaps of garbage. Finally, under a large pile I saw a dim glow, it was barely even noticeable. I started to remove the things you had stacked on top of it....peer pressure, material things, popularity, academic pressure. All these things did their best to conceal the power of your joy. I took your joy and placed it gently back on top. What was supposed to be a blazing inferno of enthusiasm and anticipation had now become a frail spark that flickered every now and then. I wanted so much to ignite it again but I can only do what you ask Me to do. After school I went with you to band or athletics or work. You got mad at someone. REALLY mad. I tried to step in to tell you that this wasn't that big a deal but you just pushed Me aside and went with your anger. When you chose to do that you put up a barrier between you and the other person. But You also put up a barrier between you and Me. With that in place it was much harder to reach you. Even now, as you read this, I am sitting right next to you. Some of you have embraced Me during this time as I have embraced you. You've put your head on My shoulder and I've put My head on your shoulder. Some of you have sat there with your arms crossed defiantly, and as I tried to pull you close to Me, you pull away. Why? What did I do to you to make you so angry at Me? For others, I simply sat with you, waiting with Divine anticipation for you to turn to Me and say, "Jesus, I love You. I believe in You and I want You to come into my life and be my Lord. And I know that one day You are going to split the heavens wide open and come back for me!" But you don't say anything....you just sit there. Why? You know, the day is far from over and I'm hoping that you and I will get to spend some time together. Just the two of us. But you've got so much on your mind: school, parents, boyfriends/girlfriends. Will I have a chance to talk with you? I've listened to you all day. Can't you listen to Me for just a little while? I've still got so much to tell you. As you go to bed and close your eyes, I'll watch you. I'll think about how wonderful you are....how much I love you! Tomorrow is a brand new day and I am looking forward to being a part of it if you'll let Me. I saw you today? Did you see me? Love, Jesus back to top
TABLE FOR TWO by Kirsten Burgess He sits by himself at a table for two. The uniformed waiter returns to his side and ask, "Would you like to go ahead and order, sir?" The man has, after all, been waiting since seven o'clock--almost half an hour. "No, thank you," the man smiles. "I'll wait for her a while longer. How about some more coffee?" "Certainly, sir." The man sits, his clear blue eyes gazing straight through the flowered centerpiece. He fingers his napkin, allowing the sounds of light chatter, tinkling silverware, and mellow music to fill his mind. He is dressed in sport coat and tie. His dark brown hair is neatly combed, but one stray lock insists on dropping to his forehead. The scent of his cologne adds to his clean cut image. He is dressed up enough to make a companion feel important, respected, loved. Yet he is not so formal as to make one uncomfortable. It seems that he has taken every precaution to make others feel at ease with him. Still, he sits alone. The waiter returns to fill the man's coffee cup. "Is there anything else I can get for you, sir?" "No, thank you." The waiter remains standing at the table. Something tugs at his curiosity. "I don't mean to pry, but..." His voice trails off. This line of conversation could jeopardize his tip. "Go ahead," the man encourages. His is strong, yet sensitive, inviting conversation. "Why do you bother waiting for her?" the waiter finally blurts out. This man has been at the restaurant other evenings, always patiently alone. Says the man quietly, "Because she needs me." "Are you sure?" "Yes." "Well, sir, no offense, but assuming that she needs you, she sure isn't acting much like it. She's stood you up three times just this week." The man winces, and looks down at the table. "Yes, I know." "Then why do you still come here and wait?" "Cassie said that she would be here." "She's said that before," the waiter protests. "I wouldn't put up with it. Why do you?" Now the man looks up, smiles at the waiter, and says simply, "Because I love her." The waiter walks away, wondering how one could love a girl who stands him up three times a week. The man must be crazy, he decides. Across the room, he turns to look at the man again. The man slowly pours cream into his coffee. He twirls his spoon between his fingers a few times before stirring sweetener into his cup. After staring for a moment into the liquid, the man brings the cup to his mouth and sips, silently watching those around him. He doesn't look crazy, the waiter admits. Maybe the girl has qualities that I don't know about. Or maybe the man's love is stronger than most. The waiter shakes himself out of his musings to take an order from a party of five. The man watches the waiter, wonders if he's ever been stood up. The man has, many times. But he still can't get used to it. Each time, it hurts. He's looked forward to this evening all day. He has many things, exciting things, to tell Cassie. But, more importantly, he wants to hear Cassie's voice. He wants her to tell him all about her day, her triumphs, her defeats....anything, really. He has tried so many times to show Cassie how much he loves her. He'd just like to know that she cares for him, too. He sips sporadically at the coffee, and loses himself in thought, knowing that Cassie is late, but still hoping that she will arrive. The clock says nine-thirty when the waiter returns to the man's table. "Is there anything I can get for you?" The still empty chair stabs at the man. "No, I think that will be all for tonight. May I have the check please?" "Yes, sir." When the waiter leaves, the man picks up the check. He pulls out his wallet and signs. He has enough money to have given Cassie a feast. But he takes out only enough to pay for his five cups of coffee and the tip. Why do you do this, Cassie, his mind cries as he gets up from the table. "Good-bye," the waiter says, as the man walks towards the door. "Good night. Thank you for your service." "You're welcome, sir," says the waiter softly, for he sees the hurt in the man's eyes that his smile doesn't hide. The man passes a laughing young couple on his way out, and his eyes glisten as he thinks of the good time he and Cassie could have had. He stops at the front and makes reservations for tomorrow. Maybe Cassie will be able to make it, he thinks. "Seven o'clock tomorrow for party of two?" the hostess confirms. "That's right," the man replies. "Do you think she'll come"" asks the hostess. She doesn't mean to be rude, but she has watched the man many times alone at his table for two. "Someday, yes. And I will be waiting for her." The man buttons his overcoat and walks out of the restaurant, alone. His shoulders are hunched, but through the windows the hostess can only guess whether they are hunched against the wind or against the man's hurt. * * * * * * * As the man turns toward home, Cassie turns into bed. She is tired after an evening out with friends. As she reaches toward her night stand to set the alarm, she sees the note that she scribbled to herself last night. '7:00,' it says. 'Spend some time in prayer.' Darn, she thinks. She forgot again. She feels a twinge of guilt, but quickly pushes it aside. She needed that time with her friends. And now she needs her sleep. She can pray tomorrow night. Jesus will forgive her. And she's sure He doesn't mind. back to top
Strange, Isn't it? Strange how a $10 bill looks so big when you take it to church, but so small when you take it to the market. Strange how long it takes to serve God for an hour, but how quickly a team plays 60 minutes of basketball. Strange how long are a couple of hours spent at church, but how short they are when watching a movie. Strange how we can't think of anything to say when we pray, but don't have difficulty thinking of things to talk about to a friend. Strange how we get thrilled when a basketball game goes into overtime, but we complain when a sermon is longer usual. Strange how hard it is to read a chapter in the bible, but how easy it is to read 100 pages of a best selling novel. Strange how people want to get a front row seat at any game or concert, but fade quietly into a back seat at church service. Strange how we need 2 or 3 weeks advance notice to fit a church event into our schedule, but we can adjust our schedule for other events at the last moment. Strange how difficult it is for some people to talk to their neighbors about Jesus, but how easy it is for the same people to talk about themselves or repeat gossip about someone else. Strange how we believe whatever the newspaper or television says, but question what the bible says. back to top
THE RICH FAMILY IN CHURCH By Eddie Ogan I'll never forget Easter 1946. I was 14, my little sister Ocy was 12, and my older sister Darlene 16. We lived at home with our mother, and the four of us knew what it was to do without many things. My dad had died five years before, leaving Mom with seven school kids to raise and no money. By 1946 my older sisters were married and my brothers had left home. A month before Easter the pastor of our church announced that a special Easter offering would be taken to help a poor family. He asked everyone to save and give sacrificially. When we got home, we talked about what we could do. We decided to buy 50 pounds of potatoes and live on them for a month. This would allow us to save $20 of our grocery money for the offering. When we thought that if we kept our electric lights turned out as much as possible and didn't listen to the radio, we'd save money on that month's electric bill. Darlene got as many house and yard cleaning jobs as possible, and both of us babysat for everyone we could. For 15 cents we could buy enough cotton loops to make three pot holders to sell for $1. We made $20 on pot holders. That month was one of the best of our lives. Every day we counted the money to see how much we had saved. At night we'd sit in the dark and talk about how the poor family was going to enjoy having the money the church would give them. We had about 80 people in church, so figured that whatever amount of money we had to give, the offering would surely be 20 times that much. After all, every Sunday the pastor had reminded everyone to save for the sacrificial offering. The day before Easter, Ocy and I walked to the grocery store and got the manager to give us three crisp $20 bills and one $10 bill for all our change. We ran all the way home to show Mom and Darlene. We had never had so much money before. That night we were so excited we could hardly sleep. We didn't care that we wouldn't have new clothes for Easter; we had $70 for the sacrificial offering. We could hardly wait to get to church! On Sunday morning, rain was pouring. We didn't own an umbrella, and the church was over a mile from our home, but it didn't seem to matter how wet we got. Darlene had cardboard in her shoes to fill the holes. The cardboard came apart, and her feet got wet. But we sat in church proudly. I heard some teenagers talking about the Smith girls having on their old dresses. I looked at them in their new clothes, and I felt rich. When the sacrificial offering was taken, we were sitting on the second row from the front. Mom put in the $10 bill, and each of us kids put in a $20. As we walked home after church, we sang all the way. At lunch Mom had a surprise for us. She had bought a dozen eggs, and we had boiled Easter eggs with our fried potatoes! Late that afternoon the minister drove up in his car. Mom went to the door, talked with him for a moment, and then came back with an envelope in her hand. We asked what it was, but she didn't say a word. She opened the envelope and out fell a bunch of money. There were three crisp $20 bills, one $10 and seventeen $1 bills. Mom put the money back in the envelope. We didn't talk, just sat and stared at the floor. We had gone from feeling like millionaires to feeling like poor white trash. We kids had such a happy life that we felt sorry for anyone who didn't have our Mom and Dad for parents and a house full of brothers and sisters and other kids visiting constantly. We thought it was fun to share silverware and see whether we got the spoon or the fork that night. We had two knifes that we passed around to whoever needed them. I knew we didn't have a lot of things that other people had, but I'd never thought we were poor. That Easter day I found out we were. The minister had brought us the money for the poor family, so we must be poor. I didn't like being poor. I looked at my dress and worn-out shoes and felt so ashamed - I didn't even want to go back to church. Everyone there probably already knew we were poor! I thought about school. I was in the ninth grade and at the top of my class of over 100 students. I wondered if the kids at school knew that we were poor. I decided that I could quit school since I had finished the eighth grade. That was all the law required at that time. We sat in silence for a long time. Then it got dark, and we went to bed. All that week, we girls went to school and came home, and no one talked much. Finally on Saturday, Mom asked us what we wanted to do with the money. What did poor people do with money? We didn't know. We'd never known we were poor. We didn't want to go to church on Sunday, but Mom said we had to. Although it was a sunny day, we didn't talk on the way. Mom started to sing, but no one joined in and she only sang one verse. At church we had a missionary speaker. He talked about how churches in Africa made buildings out of sun dried bricks, but they needed money to buy roofs. He said $100 would put a roof on a church. The minister said, "Can't we all sacrifice to help these poor people?" We looked at each other and smiled for the first time in a week. Mom reached into her purse and pulled out the envelope. She passed it to Darlene. Darlene gave it to me, and I handed it to Ocy. Ocy put it in the offering. When the offering was counted, the minister announced that it was a little over $100. The missionary was excited. He hadn't expected such a large offering from our small church. He said, "You must have some rich people in this church." Suddenly it struck us! We had given $87 of that "little over $100." We were the rich family in the church! Hadn't the missionary said so? From that day on I've never been poor again. I've always remembered how rich I am because I have Jesus! back to top
What was in Jeremy's Egg? Jeremy was born with a twisted body, a slow mind and a chronic, terminal illness that had been slowly killing him all his young life. Still, his parents had tried to give him as normal a life as possible and had sent him to St. Theresa's Elementary School. At the age of 12, Jeremy was only in second grade, seemingly unable to learn. His teacher, Doris Miller, often became exasperated with him. He would squirm in his seat, drool and make grunting noises. At other times, he spoke clearly and distinctly, as if a spot of light had penetrated the darkness of his brain. Most of the time, however, Jeremy irritated his teacher. One day, she called his parents and asked them to come to St. Theresa's for a consultation. As the Forrester's sat quietly in the empty classroom, Doris said to them, "Jeremy really belongs in a special school. It isn't fair to him to be with younger children who don't have learning problems. Why, there is a five-year gap between his age and that of the other students!" Mrs. Forrester cried softly into a tissue while her husband spoke. "Miss Miller," he said, "there is no school of that kind nearby. It would be a terrible shock for Jeremy if we had to take him out of this school. We know he really likes it here." Doris sat for a long time after they left. staring at the snow outside the window. Its coldness seemed to seep into her soul. She wanted to sympathize with the Forester's. After all, their only child had a terminal illness. But it wasn't fair to keep him in her class. She had 18 other youngsters to teach, and Jeremy was a distraction. Furthermore, he would never learn to read and write. Why waste any more time trying? As she pondered the situation, guilt washed over her. "Oh God," she said aloud, "here I am complaining, when my problems are nothing compared with that poor family! Please help me to be more patient with Jeremy." From that day on, she tried hard to ignore Jeremy's noises and his blank stares. Then one day he limped to her desk, dragging his bad leg behind him. "I love you, Miss Miller," He exclaimed, loud enough for the whole class to hear. The other students snickered, and Doris's face turned red. She stammered, "wh--why, that's very nice, Jeremy. Now please take your seat." Spring came, and the children talked excitedly about the coming of Easter. Doris told them the story of Jesus, and then to emphasize the idea of new life springing forth, she gave each of the children a large plastic egg. "now," she said to them, "I want you to take this home and bring it back tomorrow with something inside that shows new life. Do you understand?" "Yes, Miss Miller!" the children responded enthusiastically--all except for Jeremy. He just listened intently; his eyes never left her face. He did not even make his usual noises. Had he understood what she had said about Jesus' death and resurrection? Did he understand the assignment? Perhaps she should call his parents and explain the project to them. That evening, Doris's kitchen sinK stopped up. She called the landlord and waited an hour for him to come by and unclog it. After that, she still had to shop for groceries, iron a blouse and prepare a vocabulary test for the next day. She completely forgot about p honing Jeremy's parents. The next morning, 19 children came to school, laughing and talking as they placed their eggs in the large wicker basket on Miss Miller's desk. After they completed their math lesson, it was time to open the eggs. In the first egg, Doris found a flower. "Oh, yes, a flower is certainly a sign of new life," she said. "when plants peek through the ground, we know that spring is here." A small girl in the first row waved her arm "That's my egg, Miss Miller," she called out. The next egg contained a plastic butterfly, which looked very real. Doris held it up, "we all know that a caterpillar changes and grows into a beautiful butterfly. Yes, that is new life, too." Little Judy smiled proudly and said, "Miss Miller, that one is mine!" Next, Doris found a rock with moss on it. She explained that moss, too, showed life. Billy spoke up from the back of the classroom. "My daddy helped me!" He beamed. Then Doris opened the fourth egg. She gasped. The egg was empty! Surely it must be Jeremy's, she thought, and, of course, he did not understand her instructions. If only she had not forgotten to phone his parents. Because she did not want to embarrass him, she quietly set the egg aside and reached for another. Suddenly Jeremy spoke up. "Miss Miller, aren't you going to talk about my egg?" Flustered, Doris replied, "But Jeremy--your egg is empty!" He looked into her eyes and said softly, "Yes, but Jesus' tomb was empty, too!" Time stopped. When she could speak again, Doris asked him, "Do you know why the tomb was empty?" "Oh, yes!" Jeremy exclaimed. "Jesus was killed and put in there. Then his father raised him up!" The recess bell rang. While the children excitedly ran out to the school yard, Doris cried. The cold inside her melted completely away. Three months later, Jeremy died. Those who paid their respects at the mortuary were surprised to see 19 eggs on top of his casket, all of them empty. Ida Mae Kempel Chicken soup for the Christian soul back to top

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