DON'T WE ALL
I was parked in front of the mall wiping off my car.
I had just come from the car wash and was waiting for my wife to get out of the crazy mall and finish her Christmas shopping.
Coming my way from across the parking lot was what society would consider a bum. From the looks of him, he had no car, no home, no clean clothes, and no money.
There are times when you feel generous but there are other times that you just don't want to be bothered. This was one of those "don't want to be bothered times." "I hope he doesn't ask me for any money," I thought. He didn't.
He came and sat on the curb in front of the bus stop but he didn't look like he could have enough money to even ride the bus. After a few minutes he spoke. "That's a very pretty car," he said.
He was ragged but he had an air of dignity around him. His scraggly blond beard keep more than his face warm. I said, "thanks," and continued wiping off my car.
He sat there quietly as I worked. The expected plea for money never came. As the silence between us widened something inside said, "ask him if he needs any help." I was sure that he would say "yes" but I held true to the inner voice. "Do you need any help?" I asked. He answered in three simple but profound words that I shall never forget.
We often look for wisdom in great men and women. We expect it from those of higher learning and accomplishments.I expected nothing but an outstretched grimy hand.
He spoke the three words that shook me.
"Don't we all?" he said.
I was feeling high and mighty, successful and important, above a bum in the street, until those three words hit me like a twelve gauge shotgun. Don't we all?
I needed help. Maybe not for bus fare or a place to sleep, but I needed help. I reached in my wallet and gave him not only enough for bus fare, but enough to get a warm meal and shelter for the day.
Those three little words still ring true. No matter how much you have, no matter how much you have accomplished, you need help too.
No matter how little you have, no matter how loaded you are with problems, even without money or a place to sleep, you can give help.
Even if it's just a compliment, you can give that.
You never know when you may see someone that appears to have it all.
They are waiting on you to give them what they don't have.
A different perspective on life, a glimpse at something beautiful, a respite from daily chaos, that only you through a torn world can see.
Maybe the man was just a homeless stranger wandering the streets.
Maybe he was more than that.
Maybe he was sent by a power that is great and wise, to minister to a soul too comfortable in themselves.
Maybe God looked down, called an Angel, dressed him like a bum, then said, "go minister to that preacher cleaning the car, that man needs help."
Don't we all?
Thursday, December 24, 2009
A bell’s not a bell till you ring it,
and a song’s not a song till you sing it,
and the love in your heart wasn’t put there to stay,
love isn’t love till you give it away.
I think that's my new favorite little diddy.
I recently heard a story that portrays the gift of giving pretty well.
Two men, both seriously ill, occupied the same hospital room. One man was allowed to sit up in his bed for an hour a day to drain the fluids from his lungs. His bed was next to the room's only window. The other man had to spend all his time flat on his back.
The men talked for hours on end. They spoke of their wives and families, their homes, their jobs, their involvement in the military service, where they had been on vacation. And every afternoon when the man in the bed next to the window could sit up, he would pass the time by describing to his roommate all the things he could see outside the window.
The man in the other bed would live for those one-hour periods where his world would be broadened and enlivened by all the activity and color of the outside world. The window overlooked a park with a lovely lake, the man had said. Ducks and swans played on the water while children sailed their model boats. Lovers walked arm in arm amid flowers of every color of the rainbow. Grand old trees graced the landscape, and a fine view of the city skyline could be seen in the distance. As the man by the window described all this in exquisite detail, the man on the other side of the room would close his eyes and imagine the picturesque scene.
One warm afternoon the man by the window described a parade passing by. Although the other man could not hear the band, he could see it in his mind's eye as the gentleman by the window portrayed it with descriptive words. Unexpectedly, an alien thought entered his head: Why should hehave all the pleasure of seeing everything while I never get to see anything? It didn't seem fair. As the thought fermented, the man felt ashamed at first. But as the days passed and he missed seeing more sights, his envy eroded into resentment and soon turned him sour. He began to brood and found himself unable to sleep. He should be by that window - and that thought now controlled his life.
Late one night, as he lay staring at the ceiling, the man by the window began to cough. He was choking on the fluid in his lungs. The other man watched in the dimly lit room as the struggling man by the window groped for the button to call for help. Listening from across the room, he never moved, never pushed his own button which would have brought the nurse running. In less than five minutes, the coughing and choking stopped, along with the sound of breathing. Now, there was only silence--deathly silence.
The following morning, the day nurse arrived to bring water for their baths. When she found the lifeless body of the man by the window, she was saddened and called the hospital attendant to take it away--no words, no fuss. As soon as it seemed appropriate, the man asked if he could be moved next to the window. The nurse was happy to make the switch and after making sure he was comfortable, she left him alone.
Slowly, painfully, he propped himself up on one elbow to take his first look. Finally, he would have the joy of seeing it all himself. He strained to slowly turn to look out the window beside the bed. It faced a blank wall.
Moral of the story:
A bell's not a bell till you ring it.
And a song's not a song till you sing it.
And the love in your heart wasn't put there to stay.
Love isn't love till you give it away.
Make sure you share your love this Holiday season.
and a song’s not a song till you sing it,
and the love in your heart wasn’t put there to stay,
love isn’t love till you give it away.
I think that's my new favorite little diddy.
I recently heard a story that portrays the gift of giving pretty well.
Two men, both seriously ill, occupied the same hospital room. One man was allowed to sit up in his bed for an hour a day to drain the fluids from his lungs. His bed was next to the room's only window. The other man had to spend all his time flat on his back.
The men talked for hours on end. They spoke of their wives and families, their homes, their jobs, their involvement in the military service, where they had been on vacation. And every afternoon when the man in the bed next to the window could sit up, he would pass the time by describing to his roommate all the things he could see outside the window.
The man in the other bed would live for those one-hour periods where his world would be broadened and enlivened by all the activity and color of the outside world. The window overlooked a park with a lovely lake, the man had said. Ducks and swans played on the water while children sailed their model boats. Lovers walked arm in arm amid flowers of every color of the rainbow. Grand old trees graced the landscape, and a fine view of the city skyline could be seen in the distance. As the man by the window described all this in exquisite detail, the man on the other side of the room would close his eyes and imagine the picturesque scene.
One warm afternoon the man by the window described a parade passing by. Although the other man could not hear the band, he could see it in his mind's eye as the gentleman by the window portrayed it with descriptive words. Unexpectedly, an alien thought entered his head: Why should hehave all the pleasure of seeing everything while I never get to see anything? It didn't seem fair. As the thought fermented, the man felt ashamed at first. But as the days passed and he missed seeing more sights, his envy eroded into resentment and soon turned him sour. He began to brood and found himself unable to sleep. He should be by that window - and that thought now controlled his life.
Late one night, as he lay staring at the ceiling, the man by the window began to cough. He was choking on the fluid in his lungs. The other man watched in the dimly lit room as the struggling man by the window groped for the button to call for help. Listening from across the room, he never moved, never pushed his own button which would have brought the nurse running. In less than five minutes, the coughing and choking stopped, along with the sound of breathing. Now, there was only silence--deathly silence.
The following morning, the day nurse arrived to bring water for their baths. When she found the lifeless body of the man by the window, she was saddened and called the hospital attendant to take it away--no words, no fuss. As soon as it seemed appropriate, the man asked if he could be moved next to the window. The nurse was happy to make the switch and after making sure he was comfortable, she left him alone.
Slowly, painfully, he propped himself up on one elbow to take his first look. Finally, he would have the joy of seeing it all himself. He strained to slowly turn to look out the window beside the bed. It faced a blank wall.
Moral of the story:
A bell's not a bell till you ring it.
And a song's not a song till you sing it.
And the love in your heart wasn't put there to stay.
Love isn't love till you give it away.
Make sure you share your love this Holiday season.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Tributes
Not sure why I am feeling this way today?
But my mind wandered a bit this morning and I thought about men I respect and who have made an impact in my life.Three men, immediately come to mind.
You may never have heard of them, but that makes them no less worthy of tribute from me.
My heroes are not dependent upon your recognition, only the impact they have made on my life.Three men come to mind today, three faithful men.
Three Godly men. Three men who answered and followed the call of God despite advertsity, despite the wishes of others, and despite the size or scope of their callings.
Two were not called to large metropolises, not called to large, fertile fields where much grain and large harvests were evident. Two were not called to plant churches where large, thriving congregations would sprout up and national recognition and international opportunity would spring forth from their efforts. But it was where God called them, so they answered the call.
And they planted, and they tilled and toiled, and they built and they built and they built.
And today in each field stands a beautiful monument to God. A church.
One went to a large city and has toiled and built a solid, stable church.
Again not a recognized name among the masses, he didn't build for recognition, he built to answer the call.
Like Paul they toiled so they could build.
One was a school teacher, one a contractor, one a trim carpenter.
As is their character, they excelled at their toil, as they excelled in their ministry.
The school teacher was a department head, the carpenter a craftsman, the contractor, skilled and in great demand.
Quietly they labored in their toil, no fanfare, no advertising their greatness, just toilers. And they toiled. And God saw their faithfulness, and He called them.
And they answered the call of God. One has labored tirelessly in overseas teaching. Two have faithfully dug out, built and pastored the work God called them to. One has dug out, built , pastored, trained and turned over one work, salvaged, rebuilt, repaired breaches, and turned over two others. And he is beginning to feel the tug of God for another.
Three great men.
Three Elders.
Never held any office in the United Pentecostal Church.
Not names some would recognize, but they are heroes of mine.
Floyd Matthews.
Larry Neal.
Nick Seniour
Thank you for rendering faithful service to the Lord.
Thank you for being examples to me.
But my mind wandered a bit this morning and I thought about men I respect and who have made an impact in my life.Three men, immediately come to mind.
You may never have heard of them, but that makes them no less worthy of tribute from me.
My heroes are not dependent upon your recognition, only the impact they have made on my life.Three men come to mind today, three faithful men.
Three Godly men. Three men who answered and followed the call of God despite advertsity, despite the wishes of others, and despite the size or scope of their callings.
Two were not called to large metropolises, not called to large, fertile fields where much grain and large harvests were evident. Two were not called to plant churches where large, thriving congregations would sprout up and national recognition and international opportunity would spring forth from their efforts. But it was where God called them, so they answered the call.
And they planted, and they tilled and toiled, and they built and they built and they built.
And today in each field stands a beautiful monument to God. A church.
One went to a large city and has toiled and built a solid, stable church.
Again not a recognized name among the masses, he didn't build for recognition, he built to answer the call.
Like Paul they toiled so they could build.
One was a school teacher, one a contractor, one a trim carpenter.
As is their character, they excelled at their toil, as they excelled in their ministry.
The school teacher was a department head, the carpenter a craftsman, the contractor, skilled and in great demand.
Quietly they labored in their toil, no fanfare, no advertising their greatness, just toilers. And they toiled. And God saw their faithfulness, and He called them.
And they answered the call of God. One has labored tirelessly in overseas teaching. Two have faithfully dug out, built and pastored the work God called them to. One has dug out, built , pastored, trained and turned over one work, salvaged, rebuilt, repaired breaches, and turned over two others. And he is beginning to feel the tug of God for another.
Three great men.
Three Elders.
Never held any office in the United Pentecostal Church.
Not names some would recognize, but they are heroes of mine.
Floyd Matthews.
Larry Neal.
Nick Seniour
Thank you for rendering faithful service to the Lord.
Thank you for being examples to me.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
