Chicken Soup

[HisDaughter]

His Love For You

YOU are a beautiful human person as YOU read this.

Read it and absorb it - don't read these words flippantly.

Are YOU reading? They are written for YOU - especially YOU.

YOU are a valuable person
YOU are a special person
YOU are a unique person
YOU are beautiful
YOU are precious
YOU are unrepeatable
YOU are mysterious
YOU are a beautiful human person
No one will ever exist like YOU
No one will ever experience the life YOU have experienced
YOU are a collection of specialness that has never been put together before
Your life deserves a film premiere at a West End Cinema
YOU are so special and valuable that Jesus died for YOU
He loves YOU so much that he has given his life for YOU
His love is completely and totally 100% for YOU
His love for YOU is unconditional
If YOU became a better person now, today, God couldn't love YOU anymore tomorrow.
His love for YOU is total NOW and He cannot love YOU anymore.

YOU ARE 100% TOTALLY AND COMPLETELY LOVED.

Dear Heavenly Father, thank you so much for the 100% love you have for us. With that knowledge Lord help us to work with 100% commitment in our lives as servants to your almighty name. In Jesus' name we pray. Amen.

[HisDaughter]

Grandma Test

I was out walking with my 4-year-old granddaughter. She picked up
something off of the ground and started to put it in her mouth. I took
the item away from her and asked her not to do that.  'Why?'  my
Granddaughter asked.  Because it's been on the ground; you don't know
where it's been, it's dirty, and probably
has germs,' I replied.  At this point, my granddaughter looked at me
with total admiration and asked,  'Grandma, how do you know all this
stuff? You are so smart.'  I was thinking quickly. 'All Grandmas know
this stuff. It's on the GrandmaTest .  You have to know it, or they don't
let you be a Grandma.'
We walked along in silence for 2 or 3 minutes, but she was evidently
pondering this new information.  'Oh.....I get it!' she beamed, 'So if
you don't pass the test you have to be the Grandpa'.  'Exactly,' I
replied with a big smile on my face.

[HisDaughter]

I Love You Anyway

The fear of rejection may be one of the most basic fears of the human experience. Dr. Joe Harding tells a heart-warming story of a man who finally decided to ask his boss for a raise in salary. It was Friday. He told his wife that morning what he was about to do, All day the man felt nervous and apprehensive. Late in the afternoon he summoned the courage to approach his employer. To his delight, the boss agreed to a raise.

The man arrived home to a beautiful table set with their best china. Candles were lighted. His wife had prepared a festive meal. Immediately he figured that someone from the office had tipped her off! Finding his wife in the kitchen, he told her the good news. They embraced and kissed, then sat down to a wonderful meal. Next to his plate the man found a beautiful lettered note. It read: "Congratulations, darling! I knew you'd get the raise! These things will tell you how much I love you."

While on his way to the kitchen to get dessert he noticed that a second card had fallen from her pocket. Picking it off the floor, he read: "Don't worry about not getting the raise! You deserve it anyway! These things will tell you how much I love you."

Total acceptance! Total love. Her love for him was not contingent upon his success at work. In fact, just the opposite. If he were to fail there, if he were to be rejected by his boss he'd be all the more accepted at home. She stood behind him no matter what; softening the blows, healing the wounds, believing in him, loving him. We can be rejected by almost anyone if we're loved by one.

That's the way families can be with each other. And I like to think that's the way God is with us, too! "We love because he first loved us."

[HisDaughter]

From An 8 Year Old

One of God’s main jobs is making people. He makes them to replace the ones that die so there will be enough people to take care of things here on earth.

He doesn’t make grown-ups, just babies.  I think because they are smaller and easier to make. That way, He doesn’t have to take up His valuable time teaching them to talk and walk, He can just leave that to mothers and fathers.

God’s second most important job is listening to prayers. An awful lot of this goes on, since some people, like preachers and things, pray at times besides bedtime. God doesn’t have time to listen to the radio or TV on account of this.  Since He hears everything, not only prayers, there must be a terrible lot of noise in His ears, unless He has thought of a way to turn it off.

God sees everything and hears everything and is everywhere, which keeps Him pretty busy. So you shouldn’t go wasting His time by going over your parent’s head asking for something they said you couldn’t have.

Atheists are people who don’t believe in God.  I don’t think there are any in Chula Vista. At least there aren’t any who come to our church.

Jesus is God’s Son. He used to do all the hard work like walking on water and performing miracles and trying to teach the people who didn’t want to learn about God. They finally got tired of Him preaching to them and they crucified Him. But He was good and kind like His Father and He told His Father that they didn’t know what they were doing and to forgive them and God said OK.

His Dad (God) appreciated everything that He had done and all His hard work on earth so He told Him He didn’t have to go out on the road anymore, He could stay in heaven. So He did. And now He helps His Dad out by listening to prayers and seeing things which are important for God to take care of and which ones He can take care of himself without having to bother God.  Like a secretary, only more important, of course.

You can pray anytime you want and they are sure to hear you because they got it worked out so one of them is on duty all the times.

You should always go to church on Sunday because it makes God happy, and if there’s anybody you want to make happy, it’s God.  Don’t skip church to do something you think will be more fun like going to the beach. This is wrong!  And, besides, the sun doesn’t come out at the beach until noon anyway.

If you don’t believe in God, besides being an atheist, you will be very lonely, because your parents can’t go everywhere with you, like to camp, but God can.

It is good to know He’s around you when you’re scared in the dark or when you can’t swim very good and you get thrown into real deep water by big kids. But you shouldn’t just always think of what God can do for you.

I figure God put me here and He can take me back anytime He pleases. And that’s why I believe in God.”
 

 Written by Danny Dutton, age 8, from Chula Vista, California, for his third grade homework assignment to “Explain God.

[nChrist]

From An 8 Year Old

One of God’s main jobs is making people. He makes them to replace the ones that die so there will be enough people to take care of things here on earth.

He doesn’t make grown-ups, just babies.  I think because they are smaller and easier to make. That way, He doesn’t have to take up His valuable time teaching them to talk and walk, He can just leave that to mothers and fathers.

God’s second most important job is listening to prayers. An awful lot of this goes on, since some people, like preachers and things, pray at times besides bedtime. God doesn’t have time to listen to the radio or TV on account of this.  Since He hears everything, not only prayers, there must be a terrible lot of noise in His ears, unless He has thought of a way to turn it off.

God sees everything and hears everything and is everywhere, which keeps Him pretty busy. So you shouldn’t go wasting His time by going over your parent’s head asking for something they said you couldn’t have.

Atheists are people who don’t believe in God.  I don’t think there are any in Chula Vista. At least there aren’t any who come to our church.

Jesus is God’s Son. He used to do all the hard work like walking on water and performing miracles and trying to teach the people who didn’t want to learn about God. They finally got tired of Him preaching to them and they crucified Him. But He was good and kind like His Father and He told His Father that they didn’t know what they were doing and to forgive them and God said OK.

His Dad (God) appreciated everything that He had done and all His hard work on earth so He told Him He didn’t have to go out on the road anymore, He could stay in heaven. So He did. And now He helps His Dad out by listening to prayers and seeing things which are important for God to take care of and which ones He can take care of himself without having to bother God.  Like a secretary, only more important, of course.

You can pray anytime you want and they are sure to hear you because they got it worked out so one of them is on duty all the times.

You should always go to church on Sunday because it makes God happy, and if there’s anybody you want to make happy, it’s God.  Don’t skip church to do something you think will be more fun like going to the beach. This is wrong!  And, besides, the sun doesn’t come out at the beach until noon anyway.

If you don’t believe in God, besides being an atheist, you will be very lonely, because your parents can’t go everywhere with you, like to camp, but God can.

It is good to know He’s around you when you’re scared in the dark or when you can’t swim very good and you get thrown into real deep water by big kids. But you shouldn’t just always think of what God can do for you.

I figure God put me here and He can take me back anytime He pleases. And that’s why I believe in God.”
 

 Written by Danny Dutton, age 8, from Chula Vista, California, for his third grade homework assignment to “Explain God.

BEAUTIFUL! - THANKS! - I really enjoyed that. The simple words of a child many times contain great wisdom that adults need.

[HisDaughter]

Baptism

I was a day care provider & there was a child in my care named Jason-that God used to continue my journey with God. Jason was only 4 years old-but he knew how to pray. Jason started praying for me & asked his dad to pray too.

I can still remember the phone ringing & Jason saying, "Kim will you come to church with me?" Of course I agreed to go. Jason asked me to church every Wednesday & Sunday.

One day Jason asked me, "Have you been baptized?" I explained to him I was baptized as a baby. Jason told his dad & his dad made arrangements to study with me. For the next 4 weeks Greg (Jason's dad) rode his motorcycle over to my parent's house to have a Bible study with me. After several scriptures were read on babtism; I told Greg I wanted to be baptized. Mathew 28:19 "Therefore go & make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the father, son, & of the holy spirit". (NIV)

I was to be baptized in a small pond in Claremont, IL. As I went down into the water-I can still remember the beautiful singing of the people as they sang:"I will follow Jesus - No turning back".

As I came up out of the water-I knew my sins were forgiven & buried-to be held against me no more. I was a complete new creature in Christ. I don't know how many people were saved by Jason's prayers & willingness to share Jesus with others. We as adults need to humble ourselves & become like a child. Pray for everyone & use every opportunity to share the message of the gospel.

[HisDaughter]

Table For Two

He sits by himself at a table for two.

The uniformed waiter returns to his side and asks, "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.

[HisDaughter]

The Retarded Girl

About six years ago, I went to the Poconos for a winter retreat with my church.  It was a small, simple gathering of about forty kids.   

We were not yet teens but slowly coming to realize ourselves as more than just children. 

Since I was new to the church, a few friends of mine gave me a basic overview on the kids of our youth group.  I can still remember a few random faces and the descriptions that went with them:   

"Oh, that's so-and-so. He's such a pussy; he wet the bed at last year's retreat." or "That's the kid that kicked so-and-so's butt cuz he bothered his sister."   
   
Yet the one that haunts me with such clarity to this day is of a little girl, probably in the third grade at the time.  With uneven locks of greasy hair adorning her mishappen face, she was constantly bombarded with ridicule from the heartless and unsympathetic.  She was born with a physical ailment that affected her coordination and altered her facial features.  It would be almost a daily retreat tradition for us to yell "retard" as she passed by on her  way to the chapel.                               
   
Yet, as the final day of our retreat neared, we all prepared our hearts for the most emotional night...the night in which voices would cry, hands would be  raised, and eyes would flow freely without considering what the person next to you would think the following day.  Yet, instead of pouring our hearts out in a scattered groups on the floor as expected, our pastor told us to stay in our seats for a moment.   
                                                             
After about three minutes of composed silence, he said with calm, monotone sincerity,                                 

"Who here loves Jesus?"   

Everyone raised their hand; some even shouted small cries of their devotion. 
                                 
"Who here really loves Jesus?" he repeated. 
                                 
Again, everyone raised their arms, some fists clenched, accompanied by countless amens and hallelujahs.  Then, as the silence reentered the room, he slowly produced a seven-inch long, steel stake from behind his back.  With eyes of ice, he said,   

"Then those of you that really love Jesus please come to the front of the room...and suffer his fate."   

A confused and scared silence congested the air of the room.  No one dared make a sound, even a cough, for fear that everyone else may look at him.  It seemed as though everything had been frozen in a heavy fog that engulfed the room. Watches seemed to have stopped.  Eyes ceased to blink.  The only thing that moved was the flowing perspiration as we all waited for something to happen.  The pastor clenched the stake high above his head.   

"Who here is willing to place their hand out for this stake to puncture it?  Who?  WHO?!" 
                                 
A small, scraping sound arose from the back row.  It was the sound of a little girl,  whimpering and stumbling, slowly rising from her chair. She broke the expectations of every person that had looked down on her, the retard, the ugly retard, just as Jesus had been resurrected in spite of the Romans' hatred of him.  She bore the weight of everyone's stares and snickers as she limped up the aisle to the front of the room, just as Jesus had arduously carried his cross.  Slowly lifting her ugly head to the pastor, she muttered,   

"I will." 
                                                               
Tears coursed from the pastor's eyes as he asked her with fervent conviction, 
                                 
"Are you willing to pierce your hands for Jesus? Are you?!"   

Her face was streaked with the rivers of tears, not emotional tears like that of all of ours had been, but spiritual tears flowing from her dull eyes. She  slowly peeled her arms from her sides and lifted them to the man before her.   
                               
"Yes." 

Not much changed the next day.  She  didn't miraculously lose her physical defects.  She was still made fun of...mostly by the kids that weren't at the last night's service.  And I'm sure that if I asked any of the kids that were in that room the final night if they ever made fun of anyone ever again that they would all say yes.  But the fact of the matter is, that occurence will stay with all of us, the teachers, the kids, everyone, for the rest of our lives.   
                               
                             
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

And perhaps we should all stop being so judgmental, so ready to accuse or  ridicule or hate, and stop modeling ourselves to be like the Romans.  Because as much as it surprised us all, the only one of us that approached  the pastor with a sincere courage was that "retard, that ugly retard" girl.     
                               
And even though we already know to do this, do we really always follow it?  Well, that just shows the understanding and love of Jesus, of how much he can allow himself to be spit on and laughed at and still forgive us...just like a  humble, disabled little girl with a monumental spirit.  I hope this girl's courage and sincere faith has affected you and will remind you of  Christ's love as much as it has me.

[HisDaughter]

All I Remember

One day, while I was lying on a massage table in a dark, quiet room waiting for an appointment, a wave of longing swept over me. I checked to make sure I was awake and not dreaming, and I saw that I was as far removed from a dreamy state as one could possibly be. Each thought I had was like a drop of water disturbing a still pond, and I marveled at the peacefulness of each passing moment.

Suddenly my mother’s face appeared - my mother, as she had been before Alzheimer’s disease had stripped her of her mind, her humanity, and 50 pounds. Her magnificent silver hair crowned her sweet face. She was so real and so close I felt I could reach out and touch her. I even smelled the fragrance of Joy, her favorite perfume. She seemed to be waiting and did not speak.

I said, "Oh, Mother, I’m so sorry that you had to suffer with that horrible disease."

She tipped her head slightly to one side, as though to acknowledge what I had said about her suffering. Then she smiled - a beautiful smile - and said very distinctly, "But all I remember is love." And she disappeared.

I began to shiver in a room gone suddenly cold, and I knew in my bones that the love we give and receive is all that matters and is all that is remembered. Suffering disappears; love remains.

Her words are the most important I have ever heard, and that moment is forever engraved on my heart.

By Bobbie Probstein

[HisDaughter]

Father, I Have A Problem

It's weighing heavy on me. It's all I can think about, night and day. Before I bring it to you in prayer, I suppose I should pray for those who are less fortunate than me-----
those in this world who have barely enough food for this day,
and those who don't have a roof over their heads at night.

I also pray for families who have lost loved ones in sudden death,
for parents whose children have leukemia, for the many people who are dying of brain tumors, for the hundreds of thousands who are laid waste with other terrible cancers, for people whose bodies have been suddenly shattered in car wrecks, for those who are lying in hospital with agonizing burns over their bodies, whose faces have been burned beyond recognition.

I pray for people with emphysema,
whose eyes fill with terror as they struggle for every breath merely to live, for those who are tormented beyond words by irrational fears, for the elderly who are wracked with the pains of aging, whose only "escape" is death.

I pray for people who are watching their loved ones fade before their eyes through the grief of Alzheimer's disease, for the many thousands who are suffering the agony of Aids, for those who are in such despair they are about to commit suicide, for people who are tormented by the demons of alcoholism, and drug addiction.

I pray for children who have been abandoned by their parents,
for those who are sexually abused, for wives held in quiet despair,
beaten and abused by cruel and drunken husbands, for people whose minds have been destroyed by mental disorders, for those who have lost everything in floods, tornadoes, hurricanes, and earthquakes.

I pray for the blind,
who never see the faces of the ones they love, or the beauty of a sunrise, for those whose bodies are horribly deformed by painful arthritis, for the many whose lives will be taken from them today by murderers, for those wasting away on their deathbeds in hospitals.

Most of all, I cry out for the millions who don't know the forgiveness that is in Jesus Christ....
for those who in a moment of time will be swept into Hell by the cold hand of death, and find to their utter horror the unspeakable vengeance of eternal fire. They will be eternally damned to everlasting punishment. O God, I pray for them.

Strange,
I can't seem to remember what my problem was.
In Jesus name I pray,Amen."

[HisDaughter]

The Miricle Side of Columbine

Friday morning (September 17, 1999) I was reading the paper and noticed Darrell Scott (father of Rachel Scott, a student who was killed at Columbine High School) was coming to speak Sunday afternoon at Two Rivers Baptist Church in Nashville.

I really wanted to go hear what Mr. Scott had to say but was a little apprehensive about announcing anything to my youth group about the event since it was going to be held at a Baptist church. I had a feeling someone would get offended if I promoted it. So, instead of any announcement in the main worship assembly, at the end of my Sunday school class I made mention of the event, told my high school kids I'd be going and invited anyone to ride with me who wanted to go.

I expected to take two or three kids in my truck. Instead I ended up having to fire up the White House Church of Christ van as 11 of us made the short trek to Two Rivers.

I wish I could have recorded the looks on the faces of everyone we passed in the parking lot at Two Rivers as our van, with all its Church of Christ lettering, motored to a resting place. Shock. Disbelief. Happiness. I'd be a rich man if I had a dime for every person I saw mouthing the words, "Church of Christ???" as we passed.

I guess we broke traditional protocol, but we had a face-to-face meeting with God we would never have had if we hadn't.

The service was unbelievable. Just five short months after the April 20 tragedy, Mr. Scott shared the "untold" stories from Columbine, the stories the liberal media may never tell, the stories he has dedicated every waking moment of the rest of his life to sharing. He talked at length about the 12 students, including his daughter Rachel, who left this world on April 20.

Of the 12 students who died, eight professed to be Christians.

As Dylan Klebold and Eric Harris (the two gunmen) came down the hill behind the school to begin their assault, their first target was Mark Taylor. At the very moment bullets pierced Mark's body, he was witnessing to two of his friends about his relationship with Jesus Christ.

They next turned their guns on Rachel. Three weeks earlier Rachel had witnessed to Dylan and Eric and warned them about the violent video games to which they seemed to be addicted. Their first shot hit Rachel in the leg. A second plowed through her backpack into her midsection, knocking her to the ground. One of the gunmen walked over to where Rachel lay face down, still alive. He pulled her up by the hair of her head and asked, "Do you still believe in God?"

"You know that I do," Rachel managed to reply.

Immediately after her reply a bullet entered her temple.

Mr. Scott shared the story of John Tomlin, another victim. John had been on mission trips to Mexico and was hungry to do more. During each school day he decided to do something small in hopes it might cause someone to think about spiritual things. He left his Bible open in the dash of his truck.

At 4 a.m. one morning after the tragedy, Mr. Scott looked around as he was beginning an interview with NBC's Maria Shriver and noticed a circle of people around John's truck, talking about the Bible in the dash.

Mr. Scott spoke of his son, Craig, who escaped death after looking down the barrel of a gun. He escaped because his friend crouched next to him in the library, Isaiah Shoels, was black and a more desirable target for the two gunmen who hurled numerous racial slurs and putdowns in his direction before killing him execution-style.

Cassie Bernall's story has received more national attention. She too answered the gunmen's question of "Do you believe in God?" in the affirmative, taking a bullet after her response. A national "She Said Yes" campaign has resulted from the statements she and Rachel made, looking down the barrel of a gun.

Rachel's funeral was broadcast in its entirety on CNN. Millions of viewers tuned in, making it the highest-rated broadcast in network history. With millions of eyes tuned to the broadcast, Bruce Porter brought the message, asking "Who will take the torch?" referring to the torch Rachel, Cassie, John, Mark and others had dropped.

At that very moment a young man in Texas had a gun to his head, ready to take his own life. As he listened to Porter's plea and thoughts that followed, he lowered the gun from his head, began to cry and prayed for forgiveness.

Not long ago he ran 1,000 miles from Little Rock, Arkansas to Washington, D.C. with a torch in his hand.

Needless to say, by the end of the service I had been on an emotional roller coaster. My shirt had a hefty salt deposit in it from the tears I had shed, but I left the service encouraged, excited and ready to share the "untold" stories with anyone I could.

We all climbed back in our van and headed back to White House. We were going to be just in time for Sunday night services. I kept thinking on the way back how much I would have loved to share with the congregation that night just a tiny bit of what we had experienced at Two Rivers that afternoon. I was a bit discouraged because I didn't know how long it would be before I was in the pulpit again and had a chance to share.

As I walked in the door, two minutes before services were to begin, one of our elders pulled me aside and asked, "Has anyone said anything to you about speaking tonight?"

"No," I said.

"Well Keith (our preacher) has a bad toothache. He's not going to be able to speak. I guess we'll just have a song service...."

"Please let me speak," I butted in. "Something happened to me this afternoon I've got to share."

"Okay, you're on," he said.

During the opening moments of the service I prayed fervently that God would use my words to help someone realize their need for Jesus.

As I began to share some of the stories previously mentioned in this email, I felt a peace and strength I have never felt before. It was not me talking up there. Even though I had zero preparation for this "sermon" my words seemed to flow like never before. Everything was coming together. In sports terms, I was "in the zone."

I pleaded with the young people who had never committed their lives to Jesus to do so. I told them they didn't have to know everything at first. That's what being born again is all about. Starting new. I encouraged those who had given their lives to Jesus before and didn't have him at the center of their lives to make it right.

As I stepped down from the pulpit with the words of "Just As I Am" resonating from the walls, I knew something special was about to happen.

A teenager came forward, then an 8-year old boy, then a mother, another teenager, and another, and on and on...

Three came to commit their lives to Jesus for the first time and be baptized. Several others came to recommit their lives to Jesus. They came largely because of the stories associated with 12 young people from a tiny town in Colorado.

It only occurred to me about an hour later as I sat in Subway eating a sandwich there was something special about the number of people who had responded at church that night.

There were 12.

"Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends. You are my friends if you do what I command. I no longer call you servants, because a servant does not know his master's business. Instead I have called you friends, for everything that I learned from my Father I have made known to you. You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you to go and bear fruit - fruit that will last. Then the Father will give you whatever you ask in my name. This is my command Love each other." - John 15:13-17

[HisDaughter]

The Bond Servant

In those days, many had to seek work as hired servants for wealthy land owners. I was a poor peasant girl. I needed to find work and to be taken care of. Word spread throughout the village of one wealthy land owner who was very hard to work for but was fair and good to his servants. He always treated them well and didn't abuse them. The work was hard but he took good care of his servants as long as they were good workers. Those who slacked off were sent away without any further compensation.

I came upon the stately mansion. It was the most awesome mansion I had ever seen! As far as the eye could see were the vast fields, vineyards, and livestock. I was excited yet very much afraid to enter those gates. Many spoke of the owner's son. He was a very firm taskmaster but also kind, gentle and understanding. He required that when you work for him it was for a total of seven years. After that time, you were set free with a very handsome settlement in which you could take care of yourself for quite sometime!

I entered the gates, trembling. I was brought to the owner's son. He was very specific what he expected from me, but in turn, he would treat me fairly and pay me a just wage. My work began in the fields. We would put in a very long, hard day but at the end of the day, he would feed us a very good meal and our quarters were very comfortable compared to most servant's camps. Once in a while, the owner's son would walk among the fields just to check on us. Those of us who were working hard were encouraged. Those who were not working hard were warned and then later sent away if their work did not improve.

At the end of the seven years, each servant was given a graduation ceremony of sorts. There would be a special party where the master's son would congratulate them and give them a total of $15,000 compensation to help them along the way. They were set free and on their own. Although the subject rarely came up, all servants were given a chance at that time to become the master's bond sevants -- servants for life -- completely sold out to the master, never to be free. In turn, the master would take care of them for the rest of their lives. Very few even considered this kind of servitude.

As the end of my seven years approached, I asked many of the other servants if they had ever considered becoming a bond servant. They laughed and said, "No way!!! Only a crazy person would even consider something like that!" Once in a while I would see one of the owner's bond servants. They were different. They would come out to the fields to bring a message from the master, but they didn't mingle amoung us. Everytime the master's son would come to the field, my heart would leap for joy! He was such a kind, gentle person, yet strong and unwavering. He was a very powerful man -- much like his father. At times when I would see him, it would almost take my breath away. My heart would beat faster and faster and I would cling to his every word, although he rarely spoke directly to me. One time, he stopped and asked me my name. I told him that I really didn't have a name. He just smiled.

It was time for my "graduation." I was being set free that night. The master's son called me up and congratulated me on a fine job. He was about to give me my compensation when I said in a very low voice, "I don't want to leave -- I want to be your bond servant." The crowd of servants gasped!!! He silenced them and asked me to repeat myself. I said, "I don't want to leave you master. I want to stay with you forever. I want to be your bond servant!" He asked me if I had any idea what kind of decision I was making. I told him I did, but he asked me to think about it overnight and let him know in the morning.

When the morning came, he approached me again, "Have you made your decision?" I said, "Yes, my lord. I want to be your bond servant." He smiled and escorted me to a block of wood. He told me to lay down. The block of wood was put behind my left ear. One of the other bond servants took a nail and pounded it into my earlobe to make a hole. He inserted an earring of fine gold. This was the seal of our committment. The pain in my ear was very intense but the joy in my heart was overwhelming.

As I began to leave, the master's son called me over to him. He comforted me in my pain and told me to pack my bags. I said, "But master, where am I going?" He told me that I would no longer live in the servant's camp, but would live in the master's house. I was his property now and he would always take care of me -- no matter what! He even gave me a name!

The mansion was more awesome than I could ever imagine. I even had my own room! I still worked very hard for the master and his son, but the atmosphere was so different. I lived in his house. I began to know every intimate detail of his life. I saw exactly how he lived. Every once in a while he would come to my room and just chat with me. I waited on him hand and foot and took care of his every need. I began to know exactly what he liked and what he didn't like.

As the years passed by, I became very old and feeble. One day while I was taking a message for him to the field, I felt faint. I had to sit down. The master's son rushed out to check on me. He took one look at me and picked me up in his arms and carried me back to his father's house. He put me in my bed and waited on me hand and foot. He wouldn't let me lift a finger. I asked him why he was doing this and he replied, "I made a comittment to you years ago that if you became my bond servant, I would take care of you for the rest of your life, even when you are old and feeble. It is now my turn to wait on you!"

I have never regretted the day I made the decision to become his bond-servant. I know that no matter what happens, he will be there for me. And this earring of fine gold never fails to remind me of that relationship. I always wondered about the other sevants -- how long did their money last? And what ever became of them when they were old? Who took care of them when they could no longer take care of themselves?

"Henceforth I call you not servants; for the servant knowth not what his lord doeth: but I have called you friends; for all things that I have heard of my Father, I have made known unto you." (John 15:15)

[HisDaughter]

Sir Isaac Newton once said,
in the absence of any proof
the thumb alone would convince
me that Jesus lives and is not dead.

Nothing in nature rivals the hands combination,
of agility, sensitivity,and sensation.
Just as artists have tried to visualize
the face of Jesus Christ,
I try to visualize his hands through
the various stages of his life.

I imagine his hands as an infant,
soft as a powder puff.
I imagine his hands as a carpenter,
callused and rough.
I imagine the healing hands of God's son,
he could have healed everyone at once,
but he preferred touching them one by one.

I imagine his hands on the cross
and what it was like,
for those beautiful healing hands
to be pierced with a spike..

His weight hung from them,
releasing his blood for all to see.
Is there a sadder sight than that of
the Son of God hanging, dying from a tree?

He suffered for us but did not complain,
he arose from the dead but the scars remained.
He chose to keep the scars as a symbol to everyone
that our sins have been paid for by Gods son.

He knows what life and suffering on earth is like,
his hands prove it,
with scars from the spikes.

                 

[HisDaughter]

Mommy Think Twice

Its only the first month,
and now I am only a seed,
so keep healthy mommy
cause your good health I will need.

You went to the doctor today
and you listened to my heart beat
and through the little monitor
you saw my hands and feet.

Another month has passed,
and I have already got a name,
once I come into your life mommy,
It will never be the same.

One more month has passed,
and now the month is three,
mommy I'm getting so much bigger,
you're gonna be so proud of me.

What has happened mommy?
I am already in month four
and I overheard you tell the doctor,
that you don't want me anymore.

Now I'm four and a half months
and I can finally open an eye.
My body is growing fast
but it's not too long before I die.

A few more weeks have passed
and now the week is twenty-seven.
Its only a few more days
and I will be in heaven.

I am in heaven mommy
and now the month is nine,
now you can see for yourself
that I would have been just fine.

Go on with your life mommy
and pretend I was never there
cause deep down in my heart
I know that you still care.

If I had one wish mommy,
I would wish to be with you
and if I had a chance
there's nothing I wouldn't do

I hope you've learned from you mistakes
and I only wish you knew
that even though you took my life, mommy
I will always love you!

Sisters in Christ,
I want you to know that this was particularly hard for me to read this morning.  You see in my youth and unsaved ignorance, I had several abortions.  I am certainly regretful now for what I did and I pray all the time that God is taking good care of my babies because I truly believe that I will be reunited with them in heaven one day.  Although this pains me this morning to share this I do not carry shame because I know that I have been forgiven for this sin a long time ago on the cross and I excepted that forgiveness when I was saved many years ago.  I do live with regret however and if I can even help one woman out there with my testimony, then sharing this is not in vain.  So....Mommies, think twice.  No matter where the child came from or what kind of health the baby is in when it's born, know that they are God's special gift and are for HIS purpose.
In Christ,
Grammyluv 

[nChrist]

Mommy Think Twice

Its only the first month,
and now I am only a seed,
so keep healthy mommy
cause your good health I will need.

You went to the doctor today
and you listened to my heart beat
and through the little monitor
you saw my hands and feet.

Another month has passed,
and I have already got a name,
once I come into your life mommy,
It will never be the same.

One more month has passed,
and now the month is three,
mommy I'm getting so much bigger,
you're gonna be so proud of me.

What has happened mommy?
I am already in month four
and I overheard you tell the doctor,
that you don't want me anymore.

Now I'm four and a half months
and I can finally open an eye.
My body is growing fast
but it's not too long before I die.

A few more weeks have passed
and now the week is twenty-seven.
Its only a few more days
and I will be in heaven.

I am in heaven mommy
and now the month is nine,
now you can see for yourself
that I would have been just fine.

Go on with your life mommy
and pretend I was never there
cause deep down in my heart
I know that you still care.

If I had one wish mommy,
I would wish to be with you
and if I had a chance
there's nothing I wouldn't do

I hope you've learned from you mistakes
and I only wish you knew
that even though you took my life, mommy
I will always love you!

Sisters in Christ,
I want you to know that this was particularly hard for me to read this morning.  You see in my youth and unsaved ignorance, I had several abortions.  I am certainly regretful now for what I did and I pray all the time that God is taking good care of my babies because I truly believe that I will be reunited with them in heaven one day.  Although this pains me this morning to share this I do not carry shame because I know that I have been forgiven for this sin a long time ago on the cross and I excepted that forgiveness when I was saved many years ago.  I do live with regret however and if I can even help one woman out there with my testimony, then sharing this is not in vain.  So....Mommies, think twice.  No matter where the child came from or what kind of health the baby is in when it's born, know that they are God's special gift and are for HIS purpose.
In Christ,
Grammyluv 

AMEN!

Our Beloved Sister,

Thank you so much for sharing this testimony. I hope and pray that many young mothers will read it. This is one of the most loving and touching messages I've ever seen on this topic, and it just makes me love you more as a Sister In CHRIST.

Love In Christ,
Tom