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Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Sunday, December 21, 2008
God's 26 Guards
Here's a message that will bring you chills.
Have you ever felt the urge to pray for someone and then just put it on a list and said,
"I'll pray for them later?" Or has anyone ever called you and said, "I need you to pray for me, I have this need?"
Read the following story that was sent to me and may it change the way that you think about prayer and also the way you pray. You will be blessed by this....
A missionary on furlough told this true story while visiting his home church in Michigan .
"While serving at a small field hospital in Africa , every two weeks I traveled by bicycle through the jungle to a nearby city for supplies.
This was a journey of two days and required camping overnight at the halfway point.
On one of these journeys, I arrived in the city where I planned to collect money from a bank, purchase medicine, and supplies, and then begin my two-day journey back to the field hospital.
Upon arrival in the city, I observed two men fighting, one of whom had been seriously injured. I treated him for his injuries and at the same time talked to him about the Lord.
I then traveled two days, camping overnight, and arrived home without incident....
Two weeks later I repeated my journey.
Upon arriving in the city, I was approached by the young man I had treated. He told me that he had known I carried money and medicines. He said, "Some friends and I followed you into the jungle, knowing you would camp overnight. We planned to kill you and take your money and drugs. But just as we were about to move into your camp, we saw that you were surrounded by 26 armed guards."
At this, I laughed and said that I was certainly all alone in that jungle campsite.
The young man pressed the point, however, and said, 'No, sir, I was not the only person to see the guards, my friends also saw them, and we all counted them. It was because of those guards that we were afraid and left you alone.'
At this point in the sermon, one of the men in the congregation jumped to his feet and interrupted the missionary and asked if he could tell him the exact day this happened.
The missionary told the congregation the date, and the man who interrupted told him this story:
"On the night of your incident in Africa, it was morning here and I was preparing to go play golf. I was about to start when I felt the urge to pray for you. In fact, the urging of the Lord was so strong, I ca lled men in this church to meet with me here in the sanctuary to pray for you. Would all of those men who met with me on that day stand up?"
The men who had met together to pray that day stood up. The missionary wasn't concerned with who they were, he was too busy counting how many men he saw.
There were 26!
This story is an incredible example of how the Spirit of the Lord moves in behalf of those who love Him. If you ever hear such prodding, go along with it.
Nothing is ever hurt by prayer except the gates of hell. I encourage you to forward this to as many people as you know. If we all take it to heart, we can turn this world toward God once again. As the above true story clearly illustrates, "With God all thing s are possible".
More importantly, how God hears and answers the prayers of the faithful.
After you read this, please pass it on and give God thanks for the beautiful gift of your faith, for the powerful gift of prayer, and for the many miracles He works in your own daily life. Who says God does not move on the earth today?
I asked the Lord to bless you as I prayed for you today.
To guide you and protect you as you go along your way.
His love is always with you, His promises are true, and
when we give Him our cares you know He will see us through.
So when the road you're traveling on seems difficult at best, Just remember I'm here praying, and God will do the rest.
Pass this on to those whom you want God to bless.
Have you ever felt the urge to pray for someone and then just put it on a list and said,
"I'll pray for them later?" Or has anyone ever called you and said, "I need you to pray for me, I have this need?"
Read the following story that was sent to me and may it change the way that you think about prayer and also the way you pray. You will be blessed by this....
A missionary on furlough told this true story while visiting his home church in Michigan .
"While serving at a small field hospital in Africa , every two weeks I traveled by bicycle through the jungle to a nearby city for supplies.
This was a journey of two days and required camping overnight at the halfway point.
On one of these journeys, I arrived in the city where I planned to collect money from a bank, purchase medicine, and supplies, and then begin my two-day journey back to the field hospital.
Upon arrival in the city, I observed two men fighting, one of whom had been seriously injured. I treated him for his injuries and at the same time talked to him about the Lord.
I then traveled two days, camping overnight, and arrived home without incident....
Two weeks later I repeated my journey.
Upon arriving in the city, I was approached by the young man I had treated. He told me that he had known I carried money and medicines. He said, "Some friends and I followed you into the jungle, knowing you would camp overnight. We planned to kill you and take your money and drugs. But just as we were about to move into your camp, we saw that you were surrounded by 26 armed guards."
At this, I laughed and said that I was certainly all alone in that jungle campsite.
The young man pressed the point, however, and said, 'No, sir, I was not the only person to see the guards, my friends also saw them, and we all counted them. It was because of those guards that we were afraid and left you alone.'
At this point in the sermon, one of the men in the congregation jumped to his feet and interrupted the missionary and asked if he could tell him the exact day this happened.
The missionary told the congregation the date, and the man who interrupted told him this story:
"On the night of your incident in Africa, it was morning here and I was preparing to go play golf. I was about to start when I felt the urge to pray for you. In fact, the urging of the Lord was so strong, I ca lled men in this church to meet with me here in the sanctuary to pray for you. Would all of those men who met with me on that day stand up?"
The men who had met together to pray that day stood up. The missionary wasn't concerned with who they were, he was too busy counting how many men he saw.
There were 26!
This story is an incredible example of how the Spirit of the Lord moves in behalf of those who love Him. If you ever hear such prodding, go along with it.
Nothing is ever hurt by prayer except the gates of hell. I encourage you to forward this to as many people as you know. If we all take it to heart, we can turn this world toward God once again. As the above true story clearly illustrates, "With God all thing s are possible".
More importantly, how God hears and answers the prayers of the faithful.
After you read this, please pass it on and give God thanks for the beautiful gift of your faith, for the powerful gift of prayer, and for the many miracles He works in your own daily life. Who says God does not move on the earth today?
I asked the Lord to bless you as I prayed for you today.
To guide you and protect you as you go along your way.
His love is always with you, His promises are true, and
when we give Him our cares you know He will see us through.
So when the road you're traveling on seems difficult at best, Just remember I'm here praying, and God will do the rest.
Pass this on to those whom you want God to bless.
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
A Christmas Story
The old man sat in his gas station on a cold Christmas Eve. He hadn't been anywhere in years since his wife had passed away. He had no decorations, no tree, no lights.
It was just another day to him. He didn't hate Christmas, just couldn't find a reason to celebrate. There were no children in his life. His wife had gone.
He was sitting there looking at the snow that had been falling for the last hour and wondering what it was all about when the door opened up and a homeless man stepped through. Instead of throwing the man out, George, Old George as he was known by his customers, told the man to come in and sit by the space heater and warm up.
"Thank you, but I don't mean to intrude," said the stranger. "I see you're busy.
I'll just go." "Not without something hot in your belly," George said. He turned and opened a wide mouth Thermos and handed it to the stranger. "It ain't much, but it's hot and tasty. Stew. Made it myself. When you're done, there's coffee and it's fresh."
Just at that moment he heard the "ding" of the driveway bell. "Excuse me, be right back," George said. There in the driveway was an old 53 Chevy. Steam was rolling out of the front. The driver was panicked. "Mister, can you help me?" said the driver with a deep Spanish accent. "My wife is with child and my car is broken." George opened the hood. It was bad. The block looked cracked from the cold; the car was dead. "You ain't going in this thing. George said as he turned away.
"But mister. Please help..." The door of the office closed behind George as he went in. George went to the office wall and got the keys to his old truck, and went back outside. He walked around the building and opened the garage, started the truck and drove it around to where the couple was waiting. "Here, take my truck," he said.
"She ain't the best thing you've ever looked at, but she runs real good." George helped put the woman in the truck and watched as it sped off into the night. George turned and walked back inside the office.
"Glad I gave 'em the truck. Their tires were shot, too. That 'ol truck has brand new..." George thought he was talking to the stranger, but the man had gone. The Thermos was on the desk, empty with a used coffee cup beside it. "Well, at least he got something in his belly," George thought.
George went back outside to see if the old Chevy would start. It cranked slowly, but it started. He pulled it into the garage where the truck had been. He thought he would tinker with it for something to do. Christmas Eve meant no customers. He discovered the block hadn't cracked, it was just the bottom hose on the radiator.
"Well, shoot, I can fix this," he said to himself. So he put a new one on. "Those tires ain't gonna get 'em through the winter either." He took the snow treads off of his wife's old Lincoln. They were like new and he wasn't going to drive the car.
As he was working, he heard shots being fired. He ran outside and beside a police car an officer lay on the cold ground. Bleeding from the left shoulder, the officer moaned, "Help me!" George helped the officer inside as he remembered the training he had received in the Army as a medic. He knew the wound needed attention. "Pressure to stop the bleeding," he thought. The uniform company had been there that morning and had left clean shop towels. He used those and duct tape to bind the wound.
"Hey, they say duct tape can fix anything," he said, trying to make the policeman feel at ease. "Something for the pain," George thought. All he had was the pills he used for his back. "These oughta work." He put some water in a cup and gave the policeman the pills. "You hang in there. I'm gonna get you an ambulance." The phone was dead. "Maybe I can get one of your buddies on that there talk box out in your car."
He went out only to find that a bullet had gone into the dashboard destroying the two-way radio. He went back in to find the policeman sitting up. "Thanks," said the officer. "You could've left me out there. The guy that shot me is still in the area."
George sat down beside him. "I would never leave an injured man in the Army and I ain't gonna leave you." George pulled back the bandage to check for bleeding. "Looks worse than it is. Bullet passed right through ya. Good thing it missed the important stuff though. I think with time you're gonna be right as rain." George got up and poured a cup of coffee.. "How do you take it?" he asked. "None for me," said the officer. "Oh, yer gonna drink this. Best in the city. Too bad I ain't got no donuts."
The officer laughed and winced at the same time. The front door of the office flew open. In burst a young man with a gun. "Give me all your cash! Do it now!" the young man yelled. His hand was shaking and George could tell that he had never done anything like this before.
"That's the guy that shot me!" exclaimed the officer. "Son, why are you doing this?"
asked George. You need to put the cannon away. Somebody else might get hurt." The young man was confused. "Shut up old man, or I'll shoot you, too. Now give me the cash!" The cop was reaching for his gun. "Put that thing away," George said to the cop. "We got one too many in here now." He turned his attention to the young man.
"Son, it's Christmas Eve. If you need the money, well then, here. It ain't much but it's all I got. Now put that pea shooter away." George pulled $150 out of his pocket and handed it to the young man, reaching for the barrel of the gun at the same time.
The young man released his grip on the gun, fell to his knees and began to cry. "I'm not very good at this am I? All I wanted was to buy something for my wife and son," he went on. "I've lost my job. My rent is due. My car got repossessed last week..."
George handed the gun to the cop. "Son, we all get in a bit of squeeze now and then.
The road gets hard sometimes, but we make it through the best we can." He got the young man to his feet, and sat him down on a chair across from the cop. "Sometimes we do stupid things." George handed the young man a cup of coffee. "Being stupid is one of the things that makes us human. Comin' in here with a gun ain't the answer.
Now sit there and get warm and we'll sort this thing out."
The young man had stopped crying. He looked over to the cop. "Sorry I shot you. It just went off. I'm sorry, officer." "Shut up and drink your coffee," the cop said.
George could hear the sounds of sirens outside. A police car and an ambulance skidded to a halt. Two cops came through the door, guns drawn.
"Chuck! You ok?" one of the cops asked the wounded officer.
"Not bad for a guy who took a bullet. How did you find me?"
"GPS locator in the car. Best thing since sliced bread. Who did this?" the other cop asked as he approached the young man. Chuck answered him, "I don't know. The guy ran off into the dark. Just dropped his gun and ran." George and the young man both looked puzzled at each other. "That guy work here?" the wounded cop continued. "Yep," George said. "Just hired him this morning. Boy lost his job."
The paramedics came in and loaded Chuck onto the stretcher.
The young man leaned over the wounded cop and whispered, "Why?" Chuck just said, "Merry Christmas, boy. And you too, George, and thanks for everything."
"Well, looks like you got one doozy of a break there. That ought to solve some of your problems."
George went into the back room and came out with a box. He pulled out a ring box. "Here you go. Something for the little woman. I don't think Martha would mind. She said it would come in handy some day."
The young man looked inside to see the biggest diamond ring he ever saw. "I can't take this," said the young man. "It means something to you."
"And now it means something to you," replied George. "I got my memories. That's all I need."
George reached into the box again. An airplane, a car and a truck appeared next. They were toys that the oil company had left for him to sell. "Here's something for that little man of yours."
The young man began to cry again as he handed back the $150 that the old man had handed him earlier.
"And what are you supposed to buy Christmas dinner with? You keep that too," George said. "Now git home to your family."
The young man turned with tears streaming down his face. "I'll be here in the morning for work, if that job offer is still good."
"Nope. I'm closed Christmas day," George said. "See ya the day after."
George turned around to find that the stranger had returned. "Where'd you come from? I thought you left?"
"I have been here. I have always been here," said the stranger. "You say you don't celebrate Christmas. Why?"
"Well, after my wife passed away I just couldn't see what all the bother was. puttin' up a tree and all seemed a waste of a good pine tree. Bakin' cookies like I used to with Martha just wasn't the same by myself and besides I was getting a little chubby."
The stranger put his hand on George's shoulder. "But you do celebrate the holiday, George. You gave me food and drink and warmed me when I was cold and hungry. The woman with child will bear a son and he will become a great doctor. The policeman you helped will go on to save 19 people from being killed by terrorists. The young man who tried to rob you will make you a rich man and not take any for himself. That is the spirit of the season and you keep it as good as any man."
George was taken aback by all this stranger had said. "And how do you know all this?" asked the old man.
"Trust me, George. I have the inside track on this sort of thing. And when your days are done you will be with Martha again."
The stranger moved toward the door.
"If you will excuse me, George, I have to go now. I have to go home where there is a big celebration planned."
George watched as the old leather jacket and the torn pants that the stranger was wearing turned into a white robe.
A golden light began to fill the room. "You see, George... it's my birthday. Merry Christmas."
George fell to his knees and replied, "Happy Birthday, Lord."
It was just another day to him. He didn't hate Christmas, just couldn't find a reason to celebrate. There were no children in his life. His wife had gone.
He was sitting there looking at the snow that had been falling for the last hour and wondering what it was all about when the door opened up and a homeless man stepped through. Instead of throwing the man out, George, Old George as he was known by his customers, told the man to come in and sit by the space heater and warm up.
"Thank you, but I don't mean to intrude," said the stranger. "I see you're busy.
I'll just go." "Not without something hot in your belly," George said. He turned and opened a wide mouth Thermos and handed it to the stranger. "It ain't much, but it's hot and tasty. Stew. Made it myself. When you're done, there's coffee and it's fresh."
Just at that moment he heard the "ding" of the driveway bell. "Excuse me, be right back," George said. There in the driveway was an old 53 Chevy. Steam was rolling out of the front. The driver was panicked. "Mister, can you help me?" said the driver with a deep Spanish accent. "My wife is with child and my car is broken." George opened the hood. It was bad. The block looked cracked from the cold; the car was dead. "You ain't going in this thing. George said as he turned away.
"But mister. Please help..." The door of the office closed behind George as he went in. George went to the office wall and got the keys to his old truck, and went back outside. He walked around the building and opened the garage, started the truck and drove it around to where the couple was waiting. "Here, take my truck," he said.
"She ain't the best thing you've ever looked at, but she runs real good." George helped put the woman in the truck and watched as it sped off into the night. George turned and walked back inside the office.
"Glad I gave 'em the truck. Their tires were shot, too. That 'ol truck has brand new..." George thought he was talking to the stranger, but the man had gone. The Thermos was on the desk, empty with a used coffee cup beside it. "Well, at least he got something in his belly," George thought.
George went back outside to see if the old Chevy would start. It cranked slowly, but it started. He pulled it into the garage where the truck had been. He thought he would tinker with it for something to do. Christmas Eve meant no customers. He discovered the block hadn't cracked, it was just the bottom hose on the radiator.
"Well, shoot, I can fix this," he said to himself. So he put a new one on. "Those tires ain't gonna get 'em through the winter either." He took the snow treads off of his wife's old Lincoln. They were like new and he wasn't going to drive the car.
As he was working, he heard shots being fired. He ran outside and beside a police car an officer lay on the cold ground. Bleeding from the left shoulder, the officer moaned, "Help me!" George helped the officer inside as he remembered the training he had received in the Army as a medic. He knew the wound needed attention. "Pressure to stop the bleeding," he thought. The uniform company had been there that morning and had left clean shop towels. He used those and duct tape to bind the wound.
"Hey, they say duct tape can fix anything," he said, trying to make the policeman feel at ease. "Something for the pain," George thought. All he had was the pills he used for his back. "These oughta work." He put some water in a cup and gave the policeman the pills. "You hang in there. I'm gonna get you an ambulance." The phone was dead. "Maybe I can get one of your buddies on that there talk box out in your car."
He went out only to find that a bullet had gone into the dashboard destroying the two-way radio. He went back in to find the policeman sitting up. "Thanks," said the officer. "You could've left me out there. The guy that shot me is still in the area."
George sat down beside him. "I would never leave an injured man in the Army and I ain't gonna leave you." George pulled back the bandage to check for bleeding. "Looks worse than it is. Bullet passed right through ya. Good thing it missed the important stuff though. I think with time you're gonna be right as rain." George got up and poured a cup of coffee.. "How do you take it?" he asked. "None for me," said the officer. "Oh, yer gonna drink this. Best in the city. Too bad I ain't got no donuts."
The officer laughed and winced at the same time. The front door of the office flew open. In burst a young man with a gun. "Give me all your cash! Do it now!" the young man yelled. His hand was shaking and George could tell that he had never done anything like this before.
"That's the guy that shot me!" exclaimed the officer. "Son, why are you doing this?"
asked George. You need to put the cannon away. Somebody else might get hurt." The young man was confused. "Shut up old man, or I'll shoot you, too. Now give me the cash!" The cop was reaching for his gun. "Put that thing away," George said to the cop. "We got one too many in here now." He turned his attention to the young man.
"Son, it's Christmas Eve. If you need the money, well then, here. It ain't much but it's all I got. Now put that pea shooter away." George pulled $150 out of his pocket and handed it to the young man, reaching for the barrel of the gun at the same time.
The young man released his grip on the gun, fell to his knees and began to cry. "I'm not very good at this am I? All I wanted was to buy something for my wife and son," he went on. "I've lost my job. My rent is due. My car got repossessed last week..."
George handed the gun to the cop. "Son, we all get in a bit of squeeze now and then.
The road gets hard sometimes, but we make it through the best we can." He got the young man to his feet, and sat him down on a chair across from the cop. "Sometimes we do stupid things." George handed the young man a cup of coffee. "Being stupid is one of the things that makes us human. Comin' in here with a gun ain't the answer.
Now sit there and get warm and we'll sort this thing out."
The young man had stopped crying. He looked over to the cop. "Sorry I shot you. It just went off. I'm sorry, officer." "Shut up and drink your coffee," the cop said.
George could hear the sounds of sirens outside. A police car and an ambulance skidded to a halt. Two cops came through the door, guns drawn.
"Chuck! You ok?" one of the cops asked the wounded officer.
"Not bad for a guy who took a bullet. How did you find me?"
"GPS locator in the car. Best thing since sliced bread. Who did this?" the other cop asked as he approached the young man. Chuck answered him, "I don't know. The guy ran off into the dark. Just dropped his gun and ran." George and the young man both looked puzzled at each other. "That guy work here?" the wounded cop continued. "Yep," George said. "Just hired him this morning. Boy lost his job."
The paramedics came in and loaded Chuck onto the stretcher.
The young man leaned over the wounded cop and whispered, "Why?" Chuck just said, "Merry Christmas, boy. And you too, George, and thanks for everything."
"Well, looks like you got one doozy of a break there. That ought to solve some of your problems."
George went into the back room and came out with a box. He pulled out a ring box. "Here you go. Something for the little woman. I don't think Martha would mind. She said it would come in handy some day."
The young man looked inside to see the biggest diamond ring he ever saw. "I can't take this," said the young man. "It means something to you."
"And now it means something to you," replied George. "I got my memories. That's all I need."
George reached into the box again. An airplane, a car and a truck appeared next. They were toys that the oil company had left for him to sell. "Here's something for that little man of yours."
The young man began to cry again as he handed back the $150 that the old man had handed him earlier.
"And what are you supposed to buy Christmas dinner with? You keep that too," George said. "Now git home to your family."
The young man turned with tears streaming down his face. "I'll be here in the morning for work, if that job offer is still good."
"Nope. I'm closed Christmas day," George said. "See ya the day after."
George turned around to find that the stranger had returned. "Where'd you come from? I thought you left?"
"I have been here. I have always been here," said the stranger. "You say you don't celebrate Christmas. Why?"
"Well, after my wife passed away I just couldn't see what all the bother was. puttin' up a tree and all seemed a waste of a good pine tree. Bakin' cookies like I used to with Martha just wasn't the same by myself and besides I was getting a little chubby."
The stranger put his hand on George's shoulder. "But you do celebrate the holiday, George. You gave me food and drink and warmed me when I was cold and hungry. The woman with child will bear a son and he will become a great doctor. The policeman you helped will go on to save 19 people from being killed by terrorists. The young man who tried to rob you will make you a rich man and not take any for himself. That is the spirit of the season and you keep it as good as any man."
George was taken aback by all this stranger had said. "And how do you know all this?" asked the old man.
"Trust me, George. I have the inside track on this sort of thing. And when your days are done you will be with Martha again."
The stranger moved toward the door.
"If you will excuse me, George, I have to go now. I have to go home where there is a big celebration planned."
George watched as the old leather jacket and the torn pants that the stranger was wearing turned into a white robe.
A golden light began to fill the room. "You see, George... it's my birthday. Merry Christmas."
George fell to his knees and replied, "Happy Birthday, Lord."
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Comeback
My friend Michelle Alexandria is the woman in this video. So of course I had to share!
Congrats Michelle!
Peace! C
Congrats Michelle!
Peace! C
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