Years ago in Detroit, Michigan, the well-known evangelist, Dr.Charles Finney, preached on the text, “The blood of Jesus Christ,God’s Son, cleanseth us from all sin,” from 1 John 1:7. After the service a stranger asked Dr. Finney to walk home with him. Some of the church officials knew this man, and advised Dr. Finney not to go with him. But he went anyway.

They walked down the street, and the man stopped and unlocked a door, ushering Dr. Finney inside. He then turned and locked the door, put the key in his pocket and said, “Don’t be afraid. I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to ask you a few questions. Do you believe what you preached tonight?” Dr. Finney said, “I certainly do.”

The man responded, “We’re in the back of a saloon. I am the sole proprietor. Mothers come in here, lay their babies on the counter, and beg me not to sell liquor to their husbands. I turn a deaf ear to their cries. We see to it that when a man leaves here he’s well under the influence. More than one night a man leaving here has been killed by the express train at the tracks. Dr. Finney, tell me, can God forgive a man like me?”

Dr. Finney replied, “I have but one authority: the Word of God, which says, “The blood of Jesus Christ, God’s Son, cleanseth us from all sin.”

“But that’s not all,” added the man. “In another room we run a gambling hall. If a man doesn’t spend all his money on liquor, we bring him back here and with marked cards see to it that he’s fleeced out of his last dollar. We send him home penniless to a hungry family. Dr. Finney, I’m sole owner of this gambling hall. Tell me honestly, can God forgive a man with a heart like that?”

Again Dr. Finney replied, “I have but one authority: the Word of God, which says, “The blood of Jesus Christ, God’s Son, cleanseth us from all sin.”

The man spoke again: “That’s not all. Across the street is my home where live my wife and little daughter. Neither one has had a kind word from me for five years. Their bodies bear the marks of my brutal attacks. Dr. Finney, do you think God could forgive a man with a heart like that?”

Dr. Finney’s eyes lowered. His eyes filled with tears as he said, “My friend, you have painted one of the darkest pictures I have ever gazed on, but I still have only one authority which says, “The blood of Jesus Christ, God’s Son, cleanseth us from all sin.”

The man then opened the door, escorted the preacher out into the night, then never left the room until the sun was rising—but before it did, he ripped up the decks of cards and poured out all the contents of all the bottles down the drain. Then he crossed the road to his home, where he sat in his living room quietly.

His little girl stood at the door of the living room and called, “Daddy, Mother says breakfast is ready.” When he answered his little girl kindly, she ran back to her mother, and said, “Daddy spoke kindly to me! Something is the matter!” When the mother followed her little girl into the living room, her husband motioned for them to come closer.

Taking one on each knee, he explained to their amazement how they had a new husband and a new daddy. He ended by saying, “I’m done with that business across the street.” He became a whole-hearted follower of Jesus Christ, joined the very church whose leaders had advised against Dr. Finney going with him, and later became a leader there himself.

When asked to tell how his life was changed, he would reply, “ I have only one thing to say: The blood of Jesus Christ, God’s Son, cleanseth us from all sin.”

(The Timothy Report, www.timothyreport.com) via "Cup O' Cheer

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This World Is Full of Complete Idiots

1. Police in Wichita, Kansas, arrested a 22-year-old man at an airport hotel after he tried to pass two (counterfeit) $16 bills.

2. A man in Johannesburg, South Africa, shot his 49-year-old friend in the face, seriously wounding him, while the two practiced shooting beer cans off each other's head.

3. A company trying to continue its five-year perfect safety record showed its workers a film aimed at encouraging the use of safety goggles on the job. According to Industrial Machinery News, the film's depiction of gory industrial accidents was so graphic that twenty-five workers suffered minor injuries in their rush to leave the screening room. Thirteen others fainted, and one man required seven stitches after he cut his head falling off a chair while watching the film.

4. The Chico, California, City Council enacted a ban on nuclear weapons, setting a $500 fine for anyone detonating one within city limits.

5. A bus carrying five passengers was hit by a car in St. Louis, but by the time police arrived on the scene, fourteen pedestrians had boarded the bus and had begun to complain of whiplash injuries and back pain.

6. Swedish business consultant Ulf af Trolle labored 13 years on a book about Swedish economic solutions. He took the 250-page manuscript to be copied, only to have it reduced to 50,000 strips of paper in seconds when a worker confused the copier with the shredder.

7. A convict broke out of jail in Washington, DC, and then a few days later accompanied his girlfriend to her trial for robbery. At lunch, he went out for a sandwich. She needed to see him and thus had him paged. Police officers recognized his name and arrested him as he returned to the courthouse in a car he had stolen over the lunch hour.

8. When two service station attendants in Ionia, Michigan, refused to hand over the cash to an intoxicated robber, the man threatened to call the police. They still refused, so the robber called the police and was arrested.

9. A Los Angeles man, who later said he was "tired of walking," stole a steam roller and led police on a 5-mph chase until an officer stepped aboard and brought the vehicle to a stop.

As seen in The Good Clean Funnies List.

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God Runs Toward You

Brighten your day by envisioning God running toward you.

When his patriarchs trusted, God blessed. When Peter preached or Paul wrote or Thomas believed, God smiled. But he never ran.

That verb was reserved for the story of the prodigal son. “But when he was still a great way off, his father saw him and had compassion, and ran and fell on his neck and kissed him.” (Luke 15:20 NKJV)

God runs when he sees the son coming home from the pig trough. When the addict steps out of the alley. When the teen walks away from the party. When the ladder-climbing executive pushes back from the desk, the spiritist turns from idols, the materialist from stuff, the atheist from disbelief, and the elitist from self-promotion…
 
When prodigals trudge up the path, God can’t sit still. Heaven’s throne room echoes with the sound of slapping sandals and pounding feet, and angels watch in silence as God embraces his child.
You turn toward God, and he runs toward you.

From Great Day Every Day:
Navigating Life’s Challenges with Promise and Purpose
Copyright (Thomas Nelson, 2012) Max Lucado
Previously published as Every Day Deserves a Chance

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He Still Comes

The world was different this week. It was temporarily transformed.

The magical dust of Christmas glittered on the cheeks of humanity ever so briefly, reminding us of what is worth having and what we were intended to be. We forgot our compulsion with winning, wooing, and warring. We put away our ladders and ledgers, we hung up our stopwatches and weapons. We stepped off our race tracks and roller coasters and looked outward toward the star of Bethlehem.

We reminded ourselves that Jesus came as a babe, born in a manger.

I’d like to suggest that we remind ourselves he still comes.

He comes to those as small as Mary’s baby and as poor as a carpenter’s boy.

He comes to those as young as a Nazarene teenager and as forgotten as an unnoticed kid in an obscure village.

He comes to those as busy as the oldest son of a large family, to those as stressed as the leader of restless disciples, to those as tired as one with no pillow for his head.

He comes and gives us the gift of himself.

Sunsets steal our breath. Caribbean blue stills our hearts. Newborn babies stir our tears. Lifelong love bejewels our lives. But take all these away—strip away the sunsets, oceans, cooing babies, and tender hearts—and leave us in the Sahara, and we still have reason to dance in the sand.

Why? Because God is with us.

He still comes. He still speaks.

From Christmas Stories: Heartwarming Classics of Angels, A Manger, and the Birth of Hope
Copyright (Thomas Nelson, 2011) Max Lucado

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I'D LOSE MY HEAD…
For her surgery to fuse some vertebrae in her neck, my niece planned ahead. She knew she would have to wear a brace with four steel rods screwed into her skull and attached to a rigid upper-body cast during her recovery, so she brought to the hospital several sweatshirts that were cut to fit over these appliances. On her first trip out of her hospital room, she ventured to the cafeteria wearing a shirt bearing the message, "I'd lose my head it is wasn't screwed on"

as seen in da Mouse Tracks,via Cup O' Cheer

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Santa lives at the North Pole ...
JESUS is everywhere.

Santa rides in a sleigh ...
JESUS rides on the wind and walks on the water.

Santa comes but once a year ...
JESUS is an ever-present help.

Santa fills your stockings with goodies ...
JESUS supplies all your needs.

Santa comes down your chimney uninvited ...
JESUS stands at your door and knocks, and then enters your heart when invited.

You have to wait in line to see Santa ...
JESUS is as close as the mention of His name.

Santa lets you sit on his lap ...
JESUS lets you rest in His arms.

Santa doesn't know your name; all he can say to the little boy or girl is, "What's your name?" ...
JESUS knew your name before you did. Not only does He know your name, He also knows your address. He knows your history and future and He even knows how many hairs are on your head.

Santa has a belly like a bowl full of jelly ...
JESUS has a heart full of love.

All Santa can offer is HO HO HO ...
JESUS offers health, help, and hope.

Santa says, "You better not cry" ...
JESUS says, "Cast all your cares on me, for I care for you."

Santa's little helpers make toys ...
JESUS makes new life, mends wounded hearts, repairs broken homes, and builds mansions.

Santa may make you chuckle, but ...
JESUS gives you joy that is your strength.

While Santa puts gifts under your tree ...
JESUS became our gift and died on a tree.

It's obvious there is really no comparison. We need to remember WHO Christmas is all about. We need to put Christ back in CHRISTmas. Jesus is still the reason for the season.

Yes, Jesus is better, he is even better than Santa Claus

Seen in The Good, Clean Funnies List

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Little baby, soft and warm,
In a straw filled manger, in a barn.
Christmas is a special date,
On this occasion, we celebrate
 
The only child, born of virgin birth,
Sent by his Father down to earth
To save a world gone far astray,
To die, and take our sins away.
 
He walked on earth, this Godly Son,
For there was so much, to be done
He led, He taught, He pleaded,
Performed miracles when needed
 
He was finally nailed to a cross.
He gave his life for a world so lost.
The work He came for, had been done.
His Father called home his beloved Son.
 
He now is waiting there, for us, patiently.
Someday we'll join Him there, forever to be,
Where heartaches and cares, are unknown.
When we reach there, these will be gone.
 
This year when we meet to celebrate
What happened on this special date,
Remember what Christmas is, without a doubt,
The baby born this day is what it's all about
 
Dear Lord in Heaven, please hear us, as we pray.
We offer thanks for what happened on that day.
We need you now, to lead us back to your way.
Thank you, for the reason we celebrate this day.

Seen in Cup O' Cheer
Jack Young (C) Christmas 2011

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Tiny Mouth, Tiny Feet

God. O infant-God. Heaven’s fairest child. Conceived by the union of divine grace with our disgrace. Sleep well.

Sleep well. Bask in the coolness of this night bright with diamonds. Sleep well, for the heat of anger simmers nearby. Enjoy the silence of the crib, for the noise of confusion rumbles in your future. Savor the sweet safety of my arms, for a day is soon coming when I cannot protect you.
Rest well, tiny hands. For though you belong to a king, you will touch no satin, own no gold. You will grasp no pen, guide no brush. No, your tiny hands are reserved for works more precious:
to touch a leper’s open wound,
to wipe a widow’s weary tear,
to claw the ground of Gethsemane.

Your hands, so tiny, so tender, so white—clutched tonight in an infant’s fist. They aren’t destined to hold a scepter nor wave from a palace balcony. They are reserved instead for a Roman spike that will staple them to a Roman cross.

Sleep deeply, tiny eyes. Sleep while you can. For soon the blurriness will clear and you will see the mess we have made of your world.

O eyes that will see hell’s darkest pit and witness her ugly prince … sleep, please sleep; sleep while you can.

Lay still, tiny mouth. Lay still mouth from which eternity will speak.
Tiny tongue that will soon summon the dead,
that will define grace,
that will silence our foolishness.
Rosebud lips—upon which ride a starborn kiss of forgiveness to those who believe you, and of death to those who deny you—lay still.

And tiny feet cupped in the palm of my hand, rest. For many difficult steps lie ahead for you.
Rest, tiny feet. Rest today so that tomorrow you might walk with power. Rest. For millions will follow in your steps.

And little heart … holy heart … pumping the blood of life through the universe: How many times will we break you?

You’ll be torn by the thorns of our accusations.
You’ll be ravaged by the cancer of our sin.
You’ll be crushed under the weight of your own sorrow.
And you’ll be pierced by the spear of our rejection.

Yet in that piercing, in that ultimate ripping of muscle and membrane, in that final rush of blood and water, you will find rest. Your hands will be freed, your eyes will see justice, your lips will smile, and your feet will carry you home.

And there you’ll rest again—this time in the embrace of your Father.

From Christmas Stories: Heartwarming Classics of Angels, a Manger, and the Birth of Hope
Copyright (Thomas Nelson, 2011) Max Lucado

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The Tooth Fairy

While working for an organization that delivers lunches to elderly shut-ins, I used to take my four-year-old daughter on my afternoon rounds.

She was unfailingly intrigued by the various appliances of old age, particularly the canes, walkers and wheelchairs.

One day, I found her staring at a pair of false teeth soaking in a glass.

As I braced myself for the inevitable barrage of questions, she merely turned and whispered, "The tooth fairy will never believe this!"

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From One Father to Another

This isn’t the way I planned it, God. Not at all. My child being born in a stable? This isn’t the way I thought it would be. A cave with sheep and donkeys, hay and straw? My wife giving birth with only the stars to hear her pain?

This isn’t at all what I imagined. No, I imagined family. I imagined grandmothers. I imagined neighbors clustered outside the door and friends standing at my side. I imagined the house erupting with the first cry of the infant. Slaps on the back. Loud laughter. Jubilation.

That’s how I thought it would be.

But now…Who will celebrate with us? The sheep? The shepherds?
The stars?

This doesn’t seem right. What kind of husband am I? I provide no midwife to aid my wife. No bed to rest her back. Her pillow is a blanket from my donkey.

Did I miss something? Did I, God?

When you sent the angel and spoke of the son being born—this isn’t what I pictured. I envisioned Jerusalem, the temple, the priests, and the people gathered to watch. A pageant perhaps. A parade. A banquet at least. I mean, this is the Messiah!

Or, if not born in Jerusalem, how about Nazareth? Wouldn’t Nazareth have been better? At least there I have my house and my business. Out here, what do I have? A weary mule, a stack of firewood, and a pot of warm water. This is not the way I wanted it to be!... Forgive me for asking but … is this how God enters the world? The coming of the angel, I’ve accepted. The questions people asked about the pregnancy, I can tolerate. The trip to Bethlehem, fine. But why a birth in a stable, God?

Any minute now Mary will give birth. Not to a child, but to the Messiah. Not to an infant, but to God. That’s what the angel said. That’s what Mary believes. And, God, my God, that’s what I want to believe. But surely you can understand; it’s not easy. It seems so … so … so … bizarre.
I’m unaccustomed to such strangeness, God. I’m a carpenter. I make things fit. I square off the edges. I follow the plumb line. I measure twice before I cut once. Surprises are not the friend of a builder. I like to know the plan. I like to see the plan before I begin.

But this time I’m not the builder, am I? This time I’m a tool. A hammer in your grip. A nail between your fingers. A chisel in your hands. This project is yours, not mine.
 
I guess it’s foolish of me to question you. Forgive my struggling. Trust doesn’t come easy to me, God. But you never said it would be easy, did you?

One final thing, Father. The angel you sent? Any chance you could send another? If not an angel, maybe a person? I don’t know anyone around here and some company would be nice. Maybe the innkeeper or a traveler? Even a shepherd would do.

From One Incredible Savior: Celebrating the Majesty of the Manger

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BLESSED are the husband and wife who continue to be affectionate and considerate, long after the wedding bells have ceased ringing.
 
BLESSED are the husband and wife who are as polite and courteous to one another as they are to their friends.
 
BLESSED are they who have a sense of humor, for this attribute will be a handy shock absorber.
 
BLESSED are they who love their mates more than any other person in the world and who joyfully fulfill their marriage vows of lifetime of fidelity and mutual helpfulness to one another.
 
BLESSED are they who attain parenthood, for children are a heritage of the Lord.
 
BLESSED are they who remember to thank God for their food before they partake of it, and who set apart some time each day for the reading of the Bible and for prayer.
 
BLESSED are those mates who never speak loudly to one another and who make their home a place where "seldom is heard a discouraging word".
 
BLESSED are the husband and wife who faithfully attend the worship service of the church and who work together in the church for the advancement of Christ's Kingdom.
 
BLESSED are the husband and wife who humbly dedicate their lives and their home to Christ and who practice the teachings of Christ in the home by being unselfish, loyal, and loving.

as seen in Cup O' Cheer

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Ranchin'

Uncle Joe had to get a job. The farm hadn't worked out so well, so this time he tried a local ranch. The rancher took pity on him and decided to give him a chance.

"This," he said, showing my uncle a rope, "is a lariat. We use it to catch cows."
"I see," said Uncle Joe, trying to seem knowledgeable as he examined the riata, "And what do you use for bait?"

Inner Peace

I think I have found inner peace. I read an article that said the way to achieve inner peace is to finish things I had started. Today I finished two bags of potato chips, a chocolate pie, a bottle of wine and a small box of candy. I feel better already. Pass this along to those who need inner peace.

Seen in The Good Clean Funnies List (WWW.gcfl.net)

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Lost on a rainy night, a nun stumbles across a monastery and requests shelter there. Fortunately, she's just in time for dinner and was treated to the best fish and chips she's ever had.

After dinner, she goes into the kitchen to thank the chefs.

She is met by two brothers, "Hello, I'm Brother Michael and this is Brother Charles."

"I'm very pleased to meet you. I just wanted to thank you for a wonderful dinner. The fish and chips were the best I've ever tasted. Out of curiosity, who cooked what"?

Brother Charles replied, "Well, I'm the fish friar."

She turns to the other brother and says, "Then you must be"?

"Yes, I'm the chip monk."

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Numbers were never my friend, but I sure am impressed by this!

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Good progress is being made on the Nippersink Creek Bridge. It looks like things'll be back to normal very soon.

See the full gallery on Posterous

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Do It Again, Lord

Dear Lord,

We're still hoping we'll wake up. We're still hoping we'll open a sleepy eye and think, What a horrible dream.

But we won't, will we, Father? What we saw was not a dream. Planes did gouge towers. Flames did consume our fortress.

People did perish. It was no dream and, dear Father, we are sad.
There is a ballet dancer who will no longer dance and a doctor who will no longer heal. A church has lost her priest, a classroom is minus a teacher. Cora ran a food pantry. Paige was a counselor and Dana, dearest Father, Dana was only three years old. (Who held her in those final moments?)

We are sad, Father. For as the innocent are buried, our innocence is buried as well. We thought we were safe. Perhaps we should have known better. But we didn't.

And so we come to you. We don't ask you for help; we beg you for it. We don't request it; we implore it. We know what you can do. We've read the accounts. We've pondered the stories and now we plead, Do it again, Lord. Do it again.

Remember Joseph? You rescued him from the pit. You can do the same for us. Do it again, Lord.

Remember the Hebrews in Egypt? You protected their children from the angel of death. We have children, too, Lord. Do it again.

And Sarah? Remember her prayers? You heard them. Joshua? Remember his fears? You inspired him. The women at the tomb? You resurrected their hope. The doubts of Thomas? You took them away. Do it again, Lord. Do it again.

You changed Daniel from a captive into a king's counselor. You took Peter the fisherman and made him Peter an apostle. Because of you, David went from leading sheep to leading armies. Do it again, Lord, for we need counselors today, Lord. We need apostles. We need leaders. Do it again, dear Lord.

Most of all, do again what you did at Calvary. What we saw here on that Tuesday, you saw there on that Friday. Innocence slaughtered. Goodness murdered. Mothers weeping. Evil dancing. Just as the ash fell on our children, the darkness fell on your Son. Just as our towers were shattered, the very Tower of Eternity was pierced.

And by dusk, heaven's sweetest song was silent, buried behind a rock.

But you did not waver, O Lord. You did not waver. After three days in a dark hole, you rolled the rock and rumbled the earth and turned the darkest Friday into the brightest Sunday. Do it again, Lord. Grant us a September Easter.

We thank you, dear Father, for these hours of unity. Disaster has done what discussion could not. Doctrinal fences have fallen. Republicans are standing with Democrats. Skin colors have been covered by the ash of burning buildings. We thank you for these hours of unity.

And we thank you for these hours of prayer. The Enemy sought to bring us to our knees and succeeded. He had no idea, however, that we would kneel before you. And he has no idea what you can do.

Let your mercy be upon our President, Vice President, and their families. Grant to those who lead us wisdom beyond their years and experience. Have mercy upon the souls who have departed and the wounded who remain. Give us grace that we might forgive and faith that we might believe.

And look kindly upon your church. For two thousand years you've used her to heal a hurting world.

Do it again, Lord. Do it again. Through Christ, Amen.
 
Download this prayer as a PDF.

Also available from UpWords...

When we feel that life is out of control, He is in control.

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This picture was taken from the International Space Station (ISS) ten years ago. Even from 250 miles up you can see the smoke plumes from the burning WTC. Again, our heartfelt condolences to those who lost family and friends. We also gratefully acknowlege all of the first responders ... both those who perished, and those who survived.

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An Englishman, a Scotsman, an Irishman, a Latvian, a Chinese, a Japanese, a Kiwi, a Canuck, an Eskimo, a Fijian, a Turk, an Aussie, a Yank, an Egyptian, a Spaniard, a Mongolian, a Tibetan, a Pole, a Mexican, a Spaniard, a Greek, a Russian, an Estonian, a German, an Indian, an Italian, a Brazilian, a Kenyan, a South African, a Filipino, a Pakistani, a Korean, an Argentinean, a Lithuanian, a Dane, a Finn, a Swede, an Israeli, a Romanian, a Bulgarian, a Serb, a Czech, a Croat, and a Panamanian go to a fancy bar...

The bouncer says: "Sorry. I can't let you in without a Thai. "

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The Fear of Life’s Final Moments

Parents, we can’t protect children from every threat in life, but we can take them to the Source of life. We can entrust our kids to Christ. Even then, however, our shoreline appeals may be followed by a difficult choice. As Jairus and Jesus were going to Jairus’s home, “a messenger arrived from the home of Jairus, the leader of the synagogue. He told him, ‘Your daughter is dead. There’s no use troubling the Teacher now.’ But when Jesus heard what had happened, he said to Jairus, ‘Don’t be afraid. Just have faith, and she will be healed’ ” (Luke 8:49–50 NLT). Jairus was whipsawed between the contrasting messages. The first, from the servants: “Your daughter is dead.” The second, from Jesus: “Don’t be afraid.” Horror called from one side. Hope compelled from the other. Tragedy, then trust. Jairus heard two voices and had to choose which one he would heed. Don’t we all? The hard reality of parenting reads something like this: you can do your best and still stand where Jairus stood. You can protect, pray, and keep all the bogeymen at bay and still find yourself in an ER at midnight or a drug rehab clinic on visitors’ Sunday, choosing between two voices: despair and belief. Jairus could have chosen despair. Who would have faulted him for deciding “Enough is enough”? He had no guarantee that Jesus could help. His daughter was dead. Jairus could have walked away. As parents, we’re so glad he didn’t. Some of you find the story of Jairus difficult to hear. You prayed the same prayer he did, yet you found yourself in a cemetery facing every parent’s darkest night: the death of your child. No pain compares. What hope does the story of Jairus offer to you? Jesus resurrected Jairus’s child. Why didn’t he save yours? God understands your question. He buried a child too. He hates death more than you do. That’s why he killed it. He “abolished death and brought life and immortality to light” (2 Tim. 1:10). For those who trust God, death is nothing more than a transition to heaven. Your child may not be in your arms, but your child is safely in his. Others of you have been standing for a long time where Jairus stood. You’ve long since left the water’s edge of offered prayer but haven’t yet arrived at the household of answered prayer. You’ve wept a monsoon of tears for your child, enough to summon the attention of every angel and their neighbor to your cause. At times you’ve felt that a breakthrough was nearing, that Christ was following you to your house. But you’re not so sure anymore. You find yourself alone on the path, wondering if Christ has forgotten you and your child. He hasn’t. He never dismisses a parent’s prayer. Keep giving your child to God, and in the right time and the right way, God will give your child back to you.

From Fearless Copyright (Thomas Nelson, 2009) Max Lucado

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Looks like they're making pretty good progress on the Nippersink Creek Bridge....

See the full gallery on Posterous

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