Hammer, The
-Ray Boltz and Steve Millikan
I was in the crowd the day that Jesus died
And as He hung upon that cross, His mother cried
I saw the crown of thorns He wore
The stripes on His back
The water and the blood ran out
And then the sky turned black
My mind was filled with anger
My heart filled with shame
The man brought only healing
Well who could bring Him pain
Why does it seem the strong
They always victimize the weak
And suddenly I found myself
Standing to my feet
And I cried
Who nailed Him there?
This Child of peace and mercy
Who nailed Him there?
Come and face me like a man
Who nailed Him there?
And the crowd began to mock me
I cried Oh my God I just don’t understand
Then I turned and saw the hammer
In my hand.
I am just a Roman soldier
An ordinary man
I love my wife and children
I do the best I can
But how could I have killed Him
There must be someone else
I got to find an answer
I can’t blame myself
I nailed Him there
This Child of peace and mercy
I nailed Him there
I am the guilty man
I nailed Him there
With my sins and my transgressions
I cried Oh my God, now I understand
When I turned and saw the hammer
In my hands
Mr. Washington
One day in 11th grade, I went into a classroom to wait for a friend of mine. When I went into the room, the teacher, Mr. Washington, suddenly appeared and asked me to go to the board to write something, to work something out. I told him that I couldn
Making Judgments
It was a cold winter’s day that Sunday. The parking lot to the church was
filling up quickly. I noticed as I got out of my car that fellow church
members were whispering among themselves as they walked to the church. As
I got closer I saw a man leaned up against the wall outside the church.
He was almost laying down as if he was asleep. He had on a long trench coat
that was almost in shreds and a hat topped his head, pulled down so you
could not see his face. He wore shoes that looked 30 years old, too small
for his feet with holes all over them; his toes stuck out. I assumed this
man was homeless, and asleep, so I walked on by through the doors of the
church.
We all fellowshipped for a few minutes, and someone brought up the man
laying outside. People snickered and gossiped but no one bothered to ask
him to come in, including me. A few moments later church began.
We all waited for the Preacher to take his place and to give us the word,
when the doors to the church opened. In came the homeless man walking down
the aisle with his head down. People gasped and whispered and made faces.
He made his way down the aisle and up onto the pulpit he took off his hat
and coat. My heart sank. There stood our preacher … He was the “homeless
man.” No one said a word.
The preacher took his Bible and laid it on the stand. “Folks, I don’t think
I have to tell you what I am preaching about today.”Then he started singing
the words to this song.
“If I can help somebody as I pass along.
If I can cheer somebody with a word or song.
If I can show somebody that he’s traveling wrong.
Then my living shall not be in vain.”
Contributed by: Mike
Found at: Teaching What I Most Need to Know
Hurting Hands
During the winter of 1986 I was working in
construction near Oakland, California. It is not
unusual for construction workers’ hands to become
very painful during the winter season from working
with concrete, wet lumber, mud, etc. My hands were no
exception that year. They were literally cracking open
and bleeding at the joints in the fingers and thumbs.
Stopping work because of hurting hands is simply not
an option in the construction industry. You grit your
teeth, keep working, and finish the job — but do
further damage to your hands in the process. The only
respite occurs on weekends. My co-workers and I had
been consoling each other daily on how bad our hands
had gotten. The pain is similar to “paper cuts”
occurring many times an hour.
One morning I left for work at 5:00 AM to pour
concrete, and pulled into a gas station to fuel up. As
I got out of my truck, I noticed a newspaper delivery
van and the driver struggling with bales of daily
newspapers. I took a second look at noticed that the
man had some sort of birth defect and had no forearms.
At the area where most people have elbows, he had
appendages that looked more like an otter’s flippers
than hands. I was amazed to see him doing a job that
would otherwise require a very physically gifted
person. Still, he was somewhat struggling with
the larger bundles because his arms simply weren’t
long enough to encircle the bales. Instead he had to
“pinch” the bundles and lift them with his stubby
arms.
On my way to pay for the gasoline, I stopped and asked
him if I could help him in any way. He politely
refused my offer. A few minutes later while I was
refueling, he exclaimed, “Hey buddy, I could use some
help. Would you mind tying my shoes for me?” As I was
tying his shoes, he went on to explain that tying his
shoes was the ONLY thing he couldn’t do for himself.
He thanked me as I got in my truck and started to
drive away.
I came to a full stop and looked back at him as he was
getting into his van. I looked down at my hands.
Suddenly it hit me: I had been complaining about my
hurting hands for weeks. That man back there would
do anything, anything at all, to have my cracked and
bleeding hands. Every winter when my hands start
cracking and bleeding, I think back to that chance
encounter in 1986. That man back there would do
anything to have these hands. And just like magic,
they stop hurting.
by Scott Hewett
Capitola, California, USA
You’re a Good Man Charles Schulz
It’s very hard for me to say
That Charles Schulz has passed away
He and his Gang will all be missed
By them our daily lives were kissed
Dear Charlie Brown, we’ve loved you so
We wish you didn’t have to go
You gave many simple thoughts
On on love and life — We owe you lots
Linus and his pumpkin patch,
A baseball mound, a football catch
We’ve known Snoopy as a pup
The Peanuts Gang, has now grown up
We’ve read our comics again and again
And know all good things must someday end
So today it its not without a sigh
To Charlie, Lucy, we say “Goodbye”
Charles Schulz, our lives you’ve touched
So many memories–you’ve given much
As every day we’d laugh and cry
With Charlie we’d identify
But in our hearts they’ll always stay
And truly never go away
With love and sadness we say “Adieu”
Dear Peanuts Gang… we will miss you!
Charles Schulz, creator of the Peanuts comic strip passed
away from this earth just hours before his final original
comic strip was to run nationally in the February 13th,
Sunday newspapers.
He will be missed.
Goodbye Charlie.
copyright February 13, 2000 Shelley D. Sparks
Beggar’s Rags, The
A beggar lived near the king’s palace. One day he saw a
proclamation posted outside the palace gate. The king was giving
a great dinner. Anyone dressed in royal garments was invited to
the party. The beggar went on his way. He looked at the rags he
was wearing and sighed. Surely only kings and their families wore
royal robes, he thought. Slowly an idea crept into his mind. The
audacity of it made him tremble. Would he dare? He made his way
back to the palace. He approached the guard at the gate. “Please,
sire, I would like to speak to the king.” “Wait here,” the guard
replied. In a few minutes, he was back. “His majesty will see
you,” he said, and led the beggar into the palace. “You wish to
see me?” asked the king. “Yes, your majesty. I want so much to
attend the banquet, but I have no royal robes to wear. Please,
sir, if I may be so bold, may I have one of your old garments so
that I, too, may come to the banquet?” The beggar shook so hard
that he could not see the faint smile that was on the king’s
face. “You have been wise in coming to me,” the king said. He
called to his son, the young prince. “Take this man to your room
and array him in some of your clothes.” The prince did as he was
told and soon the beggar was standing before a mirror, clothed in
garments for which he had never dared hope. You are now eligible
to attend the king’s banquet tomorrow night,” said the prince.
“But even more important, you will never need any other clothes.
These garments will last forever.” The beggar dropped to his
knees. “Oh, thank you,” he cried. But as he started to leave, he
looked back at his pile of dirty rags on the floor. He hesitated.
What if the prince was wrong? What if he would need his old
clothes again. Quickly he gathered them up. The banquet was far
greater than he had ever imagined, but he could not enjoy
himself. He had made a small bundle of his old rags and it kept
falling off his lap. The food was passed quickly and the beggar
missed some of the greatest delicacies. Time proved that the
prince was right. The clothes lasted forever. Still the poor
beggar grew fonder and fonder of his old rags. As time passed
people seemed to forget the royal robes he was wearing. They saw
only the little bundle of filthy rags that he clung to wherever
he went. They even spoke of him as the old man with the rags. One
day as he lay dying, the king visited him. The beggar saw the sad
look on the king’s face when he looked at the small bundle of
rags by the bed. Suddenly the beggar remembered the prince’s
words and he realized that his bundle of rags had cost him a
lifetime of true royalty. He wept bitterly at his folly. And the
king wept with him. We have been invited into a Royal Family, The
Family of God. To feast at God’s Dinner Table, all we have to do
is shed our old rags and put on the “New Clothes” of faith, which
are provided by God’s Son, Jesus Christ. But we cannot hold onto
our old rags. When we put our faith in Christ, we must let go of
the sin in our life, and our old ways of living. Those things
must be discarded if we are to experience true royalty and
abundant life in Christ. “Behold, the old is passed away; the new
has come!” (2nd Corinthians 5:17).
To Speak Truth or a Lie
Should we tell the truth or speak a lie
If we thought it might save the one sentenced to die?
Sometimes the truth is hard to bare
Especially for those who don’t want to hear.
They think for your testimony a lie would save
One who might be sentenced to go to the grave.
Sometimes it is difficult to make that stand
To tell the truth, no matter what’s at hand.
It may make others angry and mad
They think in this case a lie isn’t bad.
Sometimes you may feel as if your alone
When you go to the aid of this one, far from home.
But the truth my dear friend, don’t stay covered for long
If you speak it and live it, it helps you be strong.
So take a stand, do what is right
Don’t go down without a fight.
Speak the truth come what may
You’ll be glad you did come judgement day!
In the face of adversity, stand by your Lord
Cause to lie for Satan you can’t afford.
For if you told this one lie
Could you look God in the eye?
For a mother cannot save the soul of her son
With a false testimony, only Satan has won.
If in the truth you will stay
Then you are doing things God’s way.
And things will all turn out okay
He still works miracles everyday!
Written by: Rebecca
(WhtDove)
Baker and the Farmer, The
A baker in a little country town bought the butter he used from a nearby farmer. One day he suspected that the bricks of butter were not full pounds, and for several days he weighed them.
He was right. They were short weight, and he had the farmer arrested.
At the trial the judge said to the farmer, “I presume you have scales?”
“No, your honor.”
“Then how do you manage to weigh the butter you sell?” inquired the judge.
The farmer replied, “That’s easily explained, your honor. I have balances and for a weight I use a one-pound loaf I buy from the baker.”
Leroy Brownlow
Making the Most of Life
Brownlow Publishing Company
For My Grandchildren, I’d Like Better
Subject: A message by Paul Harvey We tried so hard to make things better for our kids that we made them worse.
For my grandchildren, I’d like better.
I’d really like for them to know about hand-me down clothes and homemade ice cream and leftover meatloaf sandwiches. I really would.
My cherished grandson, I hope you learn humility by being humiliated, and that you learn honesty by being cheated. I hope you learn to make your bed and mow the lawn and wash the car. And I really hope nobody gives you a brand new car when you are sixteen. I hope you have a job by then.
I hope you get a black eye fighting for something you believe in. I hope you have to share a bedroom with your younger brother. And it’s all right if you have to draw a line down the middle of the room, but when he wants to crawl under the covers with you because he’s scared, I hope you let him. When you want to see a Disney movie and your little brother wants to tag along, I hope you’ll let him.
I hope you have to walk uphill to school with your friends and that you live in a town where you can do it safely.
On rainy days when you have to catch a ride, I hope your driver doesn’t have to drop you two blocks away so you won’t be seen riding with someone as uncool as your mom. If you want a slingshot, I hope your dad teaches you how to make one instead of buying one.
I hope you learn to dig in the dirt and read books. When you learn to use those newfangled computers, I hope you also learn to add and subtract in your head. I hope you get razzed by your friends when you have your first crush on a girl, and when you talk back to your mother that you learn what Ivory soap tastes like. May you skin your knee climbing a mountain, burn your hand on the stove and stick your tongue on a frozen flagpole.
I hope you get sick when someone blows cigar smoke in your face. I don’t care if you try beer once, but I hope you don’t like it. And if a friend offers you dope or a joint, I hope you realize he is not your friend.
I sure hope you make time to sit on a porch with your grandpa and go fishing with your uncle. May you feel sorrow at a funeral and the joy of holidays. I hope your mother punishes you when you throw a baseball through a neighbor’s window and that she hugs you and kisses you at Christmas time when you give her a plaster of Paris mold of your hand.
These things I wish for you — tough times and disappointment, hard work and happiness.
Are we friends Or are we not?
You told me once But I forgot.
So tell me now And tell me true.
So I can say……. “I’m here for you.”
Of all the friends I’ve ever met,
You’re the one I won’t forget.
And if I die Before you do,
I’ll go to heaven And wait for you.
These things I wish for each of you
By Paul Harvey
WWJD?
- author unknown
Lord, throughout this
day,
As I try to follow
You,
Let this be my rule to
live by:
What Would Jesus Do?
When a friend or loved
one
Asks me for a moment or
two,
May I think of one thing
only:
What Would Jesus Do?
In all my dealings, help
me
To be honest, fair and
true,
To measure each decision
by:
What Would Jesus Do?
When I’m feeling
troubled
And I turn in prayer to
You,
Give me wisdom to decide:
What Would Jesus Do?
And let me promise each new
day
To live my whole life
through,
In love and peace,
remembering:
What Would Jesus Do?
Then when the day is
ended,
May I resolve anew
To guide tomorrow by the
motto:
What Would Jesus Do?