How Big Is One?
author unknown
As a man walked a desolate beach one cold, gray morning he began to see another figure, far in the distance. Slowly the two approached each other, and he could make out a local native who kept leaning down, picking something up and throwing it out into the water. Time and again he hurled things into the ocean.
As the distance between them continued to narrow, the man could see that the native was picking up starfish that had been washed upon the beach and, one at a time, was throwing them back into the water.
Puzzled, the man approached the native and asked what he was doing. "I'm throwing these starfish back into the ocean. You see, it's low tide right now and all of these starfish have been washed up onto the shore. If I don't throw them back into the sea, they'll die up here from lack of oxygen."
"But there must be thousands of starfish on this beach," the man replied. "You can't possibly get to all of them. There are just too many. And this same thing is probably happening on hundreds of beaches all up and down this coast. Can't you see that you can't possibly make a difference?"
The local native smiled, bent down and picked up another starfish, and as he threw it back into the sea he replied, "Made a difference to that one!"
Each of us is but one person: limited, burdened with our own cares and responsibilities. We may feel there is so much to be done, and we have so little to give. We're usually short of everything, especially time and money. When we leave this shore, there will still be millions of starfish stranded on the beach. Maybe we can't change the whole world, but there isn't one of us who can't help change one person's whole world. One at a time. We can make a difference.
How Much Do You Love Me?
author unknown
One day I woke early in the morning to watch the sunrise. Ah, the beauty of God's creation is beyond description. As I watched, I praised God for His beautiful work. As I sat there the Lord brought His presence on me.
He asked me, "Do you love Me?"
I answered, "Of course God! You are my Lord and my Savior!"
Then He asked, "If you were physically handicapped, would you still love me?"
I was perplexed. I looked down upon my arms, legs, and the rest of my body and wondered how many things I wouldn't be able to do. The things that I took for granted. And I answered, "It would be tough, Lord, but I would still love You."
Then the Lord said, "If you were blind, would you still love my creation?"
How could I love something without being able to see it? Then I thought of all the blind people in the world and how many of them still loved God and His creation. So I answered, "It's hard to think of it, but I would still love you."
The Lord then asked me, "If you were deaf, would you still listen to my word?"
How could I listen to anything being deaf? Then I understood. Listening to God's Word is not merely using our ears, but our hearts. I answered, "It would be tough, but I would still listen to Your Word."
The Lord then asked, "If you were mute, would you still praise My Name?"
How could I praise without a voice? Then it occurred to me, God wants us to sing from our very heart and soul. It never matters what we sound like. And praising God is not always with a song, but when we are persecuted. We give God praise with our words of thanks. So I answered, "Though I could not physically sing, I would still praise Your Name."
And the Lord asked, "Do you really Love Me?"
With courage and a strong conviction, I answered boldly, "Yes Lord! I love you because You are the one and true God!" I thought that I had answered well, but God asked, "Then why do you sin?"
I answered, "Because I am only human. I am not perfect." "Then why in times of peace do you stray the furthest? Why only in times of trouble do you pray the earnest?"
No answer. Only tears.
The Lord continued. "Why only sing at fellowships and retreats? Why seek Me only in times of worship? Why ask things so selfishly? Why ask things so unfaithfully?"
The tears continued to roll down my cheek.
"Why are you ashamed of Me? Why are you not spreading the good news? Why in times of persecution, you cry to others when I offer My shoulder to cry on? Why make excuses when I give you opportunities to serve in My name?"
I tried to answer, but there was no answer to give.
"You are blessed with life. I made you not to throw this gift away. I have blessed you with talents to serve Me, but you continue to turn away. I have stretched My word to you, but you do not gain in knowledge. I have spoken to you, but your ears were closed. I have shown my blessings to you, but your eyes were turned away. I have sent you servants, but you sat idly by as they were pushed away. I have heard your prayers, and I have answered them all." "Do you truly love Me?"
I could not answer. How could I? I was embarrassed beyond belief. I had no excuse. What could I say to this? When my heart had cried out, and the tears had flowed, I said, "Please forgive me Lord. I am unworthy to be Your child."
The Lord answered, "That is My grace My child."
I asked, "Then why do you continue to forgive me? Why do you Love me so?"
The Lord answered, "Because you are My creation. You are My child. I will never abandon you. When you cry, I will have compassion and cry with you. When you scream in joy, I will laugh with you. When you are down, I will encourage you. When you fall, I will raise you up. When you are tired I will carry you. I will be with you 'til the end of the days, and I will love you forever."
Never had I cried so hard before. How could I have been so cold? How could I have hurt God as I had done? I asked God, "How much do You Love me?"
And the Lord stretched out His arms, As they were nailed to the cross. I bowed down at the feet of Christ, my Savior. And for the first time, I truly prayed.
The Humble Servant
author unknown
Oh what a beautiful site it was. It was the kind of thing that just takes your breath away. There was
the table set for the Feast of feasts. The table was perfectly arranged with candles, and the meal
that we were about to eat together. Yes, it was at moments like these that I really knew that it was
worth leaving everything. Sure I missed my family, but I had a new family. A group of men with whom
in the past few years I had come so close to. These men had replaced my friends and my family, and
had become my brothers. And just like brothers we had our little fights. These were those times when
I did not know if I could live around them much longer. But most importantly there were those many
hours in which we grew so close. Where our lives were opened up to one another. Where we were able
to really learn from the Master.
Ah the Master! I have never met a man like Him, nor do I really ever expect to meet one in the future. He is well kind of hard to explain. I guess one of my biggest questions is who exactly is He? I know that He is the Messiah, I think. I know what happened on the Mount of Transfiguration. I know the miracles I have seen. I know about the Father saying, "This is My Son with whom I am well pleased." I know all of these things. But the question as to who is He still wanders into my mind.
He is most certainly the most wonderful teacher to ever grace the face of the earth. He is a man of miracles. He most certainly is a man of God, but is He the Man of God? It is a question I have long wrestled with. If He is the Messiah, why doesn't He just take over His rightful place upon the throne? Why does He allow people to talk to Him the way they do? How is He able to love all those heathen people? How can He love me after all that I have done? He took me from the dregs of society to put as one of His chosen.
He got up from His space at the head of the table. He took off His outer garment and tied a towel around His waist. What was He doing? No, He couldn't even think of it. Aren't we supposed to be His servants?
He took a basin and filled it with water and began to wash the first's feet. I could not watch. This was my Master, this was my Lord.
It was at that moment that I really knew who this Man was. I knew that He was God's one and only Son. Master what are you doing washing his feet? No, you can't! But I knew He had to.
I truly could not watch. I did my best not to see what He was doing. It pained me to see my King humbling himself so low as to wash someone's feet. He slowly worked His way to me. How could I allow Him to wash my feet? I know that none of the others felt too comfortable with this either, but what was I to do? Could I just say, "No, Teacher, I can't
allow you to do this?"
He kneeled before my feet and placed my feet into the wash basin. I looked down into His eyes which were dripping with tears. The sobs could be heard from both Him and I and the rest. He slowly and very tenderly with much love, cleansed the dirt from my feet.
There was my Lord on His knees before me. Why? Why was He doing this? But the love that I was feeling, I didn't care why. He did this because He loved me. What better way could there be to humble Himself except by doing the task no one else wanted to do.
The task was finished, my feet were clean. He took the towel from around His waist and dried them off. He then lowered His head down to my feet and kissed them.
Yes, You are the Lord. Yes, You are the Messiah! Take me wherever You will.
I am Yours.
In this masterful act Jesus laid the foundation we are to follow. He created for us a better way to see what it really means to be a servant.
By humbling Himself in the most lowly of ways, He was the most perfect example of how we are to live as Christians. The "servant heart" is one of the most difficult things for us to learn. To be able to totally submit oneself to others is the most true show of love.
We are not called to be servants in order that our lives be more disciplined, but because to be a servant to one another is the way that we are able to share the love of Christ. This is the example that our Lord gave us on that Last Supper so long ago.
"My children, our love should not be just words and talk; it must be true love,
which shows itself in action."
1 John 3:18
Ice Cream for the Soul
author unknown
Last week I took my children to a restaurant. My six-year-old son asked if he could say grace. As we bowed our heads he said, "God is good. God is great. Thank you for the food, and I would even thank you more if mom gets us ice cream for dessert. And Liberty and justice for all! Amen!"
Along with the laughter from the other customers nearby I heard a woman remark, "That's what's wrong with this country. Kids today don't even know how to pray. Asking God for ice-cream! Why, I never!" Hearing this, my son burst into tears and asked me, "Did I do it wrong? Is God mad at me?" As I held him and assured him that he had done a terrific job and God was certainly not mad at him, an elderly gentle man approached the table. He winked at my son and said, "I happen to know that God thought that was a great prayer." "Really?" my son asked "Cross my heart." Then in theatrical whisper he added (indicating the woman whose remark had started this whole thing), "Too bad she never asks God for ice cream. A little ice cream is good for the soul sometimes."
Naturally, I bought my kid's ice cream at the end of the meal. My son stared at his for a moment and then did something I will remember the rest of my life. He picked up his sundae and without a word walked over and placed it in front of the woman. With a big smile he told her, "Here, this is for you. Ice cream is good for the soul sometimes and my soul is good already."
I Could Be a Monk
Keith Kluksdahl
I used to look at monks and nuns and wonder why anyone would waste their lives in such a fashion.
To me, living that sort of life meant depriving oneself of all the goods things that the world has
to offer. And considering that I was mostly a walking hormone in tennis shoes when I first considered
the life of a monk, I was especially put off by the notion of celibacy. How could anyone live without sex?
I recently finished a book called "Dakota - A Spiritual Geography." The author, Kathleen Norris, was a
writer/poet living with her husband in New York City. When her grandmother died, they decided to move
to her grandmother's farm in South Dakota, stay for a couple of years to sell everything, and move back
to the city. They've been living in Lemmon, South Dakota for more than 20 years now. The book is a
collection of essays that relate how the small town prairie experience led her back to church and Christ.
She writes at length about the Benedictine monks who live in a nearby monastery. They have been as much
a part of her spiritual journey as has the prairie and the small town. In one essay, she writes of how
the monks joke about their lives before they arrived at the monastery. One had been an electronics
engineer. I read with renewed interest. The wheels in my mind started turning.
The next day, I was on a long hike thinking about this electronics engineer who became a monk, and who
probably lived much as I do before he made the change. Why did he make such a drastic change? The
question rattled around in my brain for a few miles. It was a mystery that I wanted to solve.
About the time I saw the rattlesnake, I suddenly understood. Emotionally. Intellectually, I've always
known that God should be the focus of our lives. Suddenly, I knew in my heart why a man would give up
a worldly life to become a monk. Monks and nuns know that this life is far less important than the life
that follows. Preparing for heaven is far more important to them than anything this life can offer.
I knew that if I were called, I could be a monk. I'm pretty sure that I'm not called to be a monk.
My gifts do not lead me to that path. And then there's this strong desire to raise some children. But
I now look upon monks and nuns in a different light. And this understanding has moved God way up on my
priority list. As I hiked on, I felt that I'd caught another glimpse of the awesome nature of God, and
that my relationship with him had moved to a new level. I smiled and sang as I walked, enjoying this
gift of life that he's given.
Do not love the world or the things in the world. If any one loves the world,
love for the Father is not in him. For all that is in the world, the lust of
the flesh and the lust of the eyes and the pride of life, is not of the Father
but is of the world. And the world passes away, and the lust of it; but he who
does the will of God abides for ever.
1 John 2:15-17
I knew it all along, at least I think I did. I could always hear it, in the crash of the ocean waves, in the rush of wind as it scampered across the tree tops, always. As a child I tried to be so holy, so pious, knowing, I mean, wouldn't you be, if you knew? How can I tell you how I wanted so, but I'm sure you know, don't you?
I thought, surely this longing and the need would pass, things in the world will fulfill, surely, won't they? A year or two and then it will pass, this hunger and this need, the world will fill me. A year or two became five then ten and I knew, as I had all along. So I spent a year or two pretending that I couldn't hear. You know, I think I actually fooled myself. I know that's hard to believe, but there it is. Do you suppose that God rolls His eyes and taps His foot when we do stuff like that?
You see, the Lord will never withdraw the call, never. The crux of the matter is this, it is a hard spot to be in, called and not responding. Called and ignoring, but then you have never done that, have you? Ignored the calling on your life? I use to look at people that knew they were called with admiration, special people, I mean to know that the Supreme Ruler of the universe had a thing for you to do. How easy their life must be I thought, how simple the world must look to them. I thought, they probably could just dance through life without a care.
I would think of these people as air people, they must have feet that never have to touch the ground. God's anointed. I have learned a thing or two since those days. The main thing is this, I never had more than a glimpse of peace, or the power of God until I stood one day and said, "show me Lord." What about you? Is today the day that you will give it up? Is today the day that you will say, "show me Father?" I one day watched many people accept Jesus because I was obedient. This thought drifts across my mind from time to time. How many more, if twenty or thirty years ago I would have answered the call? Perhaps a hundred, a thousand or two. I will in this life never know, but I do know this. Some are saved. Some is more than none.
Are you a dreamer? I am. I travel in ideas and concepts that have no meaning in the physical world. Some things I see have no words to explain them. Some are just my concepts, some the Lord's, I don't know which is which anymore. I do know this, I am not bound in my physical body in the spirit. Gravity can't hold me, only sin can chain me.
Have I told you that I have put the last of that away? The willful ones, I mean. The ones that chained me so I couldn't soar. Now I have freedom of movement, to watch in the dark of night, to fly at dawn's first light. Have I told you about the world that I saw? The one that had gases of many colors as a foundation? Now how can God do stuff like that? Think, how can you take a gazillion pounds or more and use gas as a foundation?
I have been thinking recently about the power that we have available to us. Power that we don't use. Do you know of anyone who is doing the works that Jesus did, or greater works? I'm not, at least not yet. Lately I have also been asking myself about my relationship with my Father. Where would I be right now if I heard His voice clearly? Do you think about things like this? Maybe it's just me that wonders, I don't know.
Do you know that God loves you just the way you are? Here and now today He loves you more than you can possibly know. Anyone can listen, believe me, if I can listen you can. So do this, find a place as quiet as quiet can be and start listening. Don't just think, yes, I should do that. Do it now, today. It is imperative for you to have the Lord's guidance in everything that you do, and the only way you can receive that is to listen to Him. You also need to study the Bible because the Bible always has to be your guide. Always.
Tell me, are you truly tired of not knowing what to do or where to turn? Have you achieved peace and
tranquillity on your own? Do you think you will anytime soon? Do you have answers for those really tough
questions you need answered? Jesus said in Matthew 11:28 Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy
laden, and I will give you rest. 29 Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in
heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls. 30 For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.
God has a calling for each of us. You know in your heart that He is calling you. You can "feel" that
tug on your heart, or know something that is right outside of your grasp is pulling on you. That's the
Spirit of the Lord, my friend. Oh other things will pull you and vie for your attention. Good things and
evil things, but the Holy Spirit is the only one that will confess Jesus as Lord. The Holy Spirit is the
only one who will always agree with the Word.
You can always keep doing things the way you are doing them, but don't be surprised when you get the
same results. If you are born again, you have the Living God inside of you. Tell me, who can stand
against God? Who can stand against the name of Jesus? Well the choice is yours. As for me I'll spend
my time listening and waiting on the Lord.
Do you want to know? Do you want to hear Him in the wind, in the rain? Do you want to have the joy of
the Lord in all that you do? I can't understand why you would wait even one day longer.
Sun. Bright sun. Hot sun. A sun blood red against a dark sky or fading atmosphere. A sun that Gray and
his cousin Hyrr had lived under all their lives. Vegetation is a thing of the past under the larger sun.
Mercury and Venus have been swallowed whole. And Earth is next.
But until then, humans keep living out their lives, as Gray and Hyrr. Archaeologists, the both of them,
they spent much time under the sun and grew accustomed to it's heat. Much more accustomed than many of
the under-dwellers. And today the sun was especially hot. The rock, even 50 spans down, was hot enough
to cook meat on. Gray was very careful as he lowered himself down a line to the bottom of the excavation.
Hyrr greeted him and helped him unlatch the line. Then Hyrr motioned for Gray to come over to his latest
find.
Communicating through nuances and movements, rather than words lest the ancient stone crumble, Gray
followed Hyrr through a small tunnel and out into a larger room. The larger room was the first of their
discoveries in this site. A pre-fabricated room, it looked vaguely like the dorms the under-dwellers
lived in, but much older. From a time long-since passed.
Hyrr touched Gray on the shoulder and broke him from staring at the room. Gray's cousin motioned him
over to a small corner, where a pile of rocks had fallen many
centuries before. Hyrr had moved some of the rocks and uncovered a longish black shape
that seemed in remarkably good condition, despite having been battered by rocks. Next to
the object was a small stack of square pieces of material, each with brightly colored fronts and, on
closer observation, backs too.
Gray fumbled with one of the smaller pieces of plastic and noticed that it could open to reveal a smaller
circle of plastic. He closed and opened it a few times to make sure he had the technique down, then
looked questioningly at his cousin. Hyrr shrugged and indicated that they should return to their
dwellings, as darktime was swiftly approaching. Gray nodded and motioned to the black object and the
smaller squares. Hyrr considered for a moment, then stepped over and grabbed the black object. A small
cord was attached to the back, so he bundled it up as to not trip over it. Gray picked up the smaller
squares and shoved them in his pack.
They made their way back to the surface and started trudging back to their temporary dwelling, a short
distance away. Finally they spoke.
"Whoo! Some heat, Gray?"
"Aye, cousin. Too hot to be outside today. Or to be digging."
Hyrr nodded and they walked in silence for awhile. Then Gray spoke up.
"Hyrr? What do you make of these artifacts?"
Hyrr looked at the object in his hand for a moment then cleared his throat.
"I, uhh ... honestly don't have a clue, cousin. Some sort of entertainment device?"
Gray shrugged and they walked the rest of the way to their dwelling quietly. It was
too hot to bother trying to speak.
They entered their house and Gray greeted his wife, Maryn, with a kiss.
"Welcome back," she said. "That didn't take long! What did you find?"
The eagerness in her voice betrayed her impatience to start studying any artifacts her cousin-in-law and
husband had brought back. Hyrr laughed, pushed the black object
onto a counter-top and said simply,
"This."
Maryn clapped her hands girlishly and darted over to look at the artifact. She mumbled to herself and
poked the black thing repeatedly as Gray and Hyrr got out of their cold-suits and unloaded their sacks.
"Oh yeah. We also found these, wifey," said Gray, with a hint of teasing, as he tossed the smaller
squares onto the counter top.
"Wifey" stuck her tongue out at Gray. They had only been married a couple months, and it was quite
interesting for Hyrr to observe the newlyweds. Educating, at least. Maryn looked quickly at the smaller
squares, long enough to read the writing on the front of the first, before returning to the larger object.
"Slaves by Choice," she said. "What's that mean?"
"No clue, Maryn," said Hyrr. "We were hoping you could help, maybe. You know more about this time period
than we do. We just dig the junk up." He grinned and picked up another of the small squares.
"This one says 'Slaves by Choice' too," he said, half to himself. "But it also
says..." He scratched his head. "Tway? What's that mean?"
Gray shrugged. Maryn didn't bother to answer.
Maryn continued to work on the larger object for a long time, while Gray and Hyrr
looked through the smaller squares. Long into the darktime...
"Ah ha!" crowed Maryn.
Gray and Hyrr looked up from their game of Dust.
"What's the discovery, princess?" asked Gray, standing and moving to his wife's side. Proudly, she put
her arm around his waist and indicated the object with her free arm.
"Like you, I think it's an entertainment device. But what I was so excited about is
that I got power running to it!" She pointed to a small red light on the top of the artifact.
"Well, fabulous Maryn!" said Hyrr, picking up a small square. "Do we know what
these are for yet?"
Maryn nodded and pushed a small piece of the object down. An opening appeared,
just about the right size for the square of material. Hyrr tried placing the whole casing in
the opening, but it didn't fit.
"Try opening it," suggested Gray. Hyrr opened the small square and pulled out the
little circle. A questioning look graced his features. Maryn shrugged and Gray just said,
"Go ahead. Try it."
Hyrr placed the circle in the opening, then stood back. He looked at the square it had been encased in
and examined that thoroughly. He smiled as if he had an idea and pushed the opening closed again. A
small whirring sound emanated from the object, but that stopped quickly.
Gray stepped over and grabbed the small square.
"Let's see... 'Slaves by Choice' is written here. As is 'Amen, Never End'. What do those mean?"
Both of his compatriots shrugged. Gray walked closer to the device and inspected
it. He noted a few small protrusions that looked to be buttons. Maryn spoke up,
"I pushed those earlier, but nothing seemed to happen."
"May as well try again, I suppose," said Hyrr, but without much interest. He was winning their game of
Dust, and wanted to get back to it.
Gray pushed a few of the buttons and was finally rewarded when the whirring came back on. Almost
immediately a loud sound emanated from the object. It almost sounded like music, but there were no
Urryn-pipes. That wasn't surprising, since this was unearthed from a dig thought to be about 300,000
turns old.
Gray listened intently, and Hyrr's interest was captured again. Maryn put her ear
closer to the object, and closed her eyes. She spoke like that.
"It sounds nice... what is that lilting noise?"
She was startled and stepped back as words began coming out of the object.
"Words? In music?" She was quite surprised, as were Gray and Hyrr. They paid
closer attention to the words. The box sang,
"Quite the darkest nighttime ever thought,
I have sold the lies that I had bought
Ever standing near the open grave
Never hoping for the chance to be saved...
Jesus Christ see my plight
Rescue me
Jesus Christ, my prayer to You
Rescue me
Amen...
Never end"
The music kept going for a while, and Maryn and Gray began to dance while Hyrr stood just grinning.
They had stumbled across a major archaeological find! Music from the
ancient times! And words too… anthropology would benefit.
But through their joviality they felt something more. Something like they had just been found Wanting
by the Tribune, for some deed they knew they had committed.
Quietly their humor faded, and Gray finally stepped over to the box and pushed more
buttons until the whirring and the music stopped. After they all stood thinking for a moment, about
the words, Gray spoke.
"We... we may want to study this some more before we give it to the ArcSociety."
Maryn an Hyrr nodded quietly, and both tried to smile. But nothing came to their lips. They went to bed
in silence, early in the lighttime...
Gray woke up early, or rather, late. The bloated, red sun was hanging low in sky. For some reason, the young man's thoughts focused on the morbid.
I hope that bloody sun falls out of the sky...
He turned to look at a mirror and noticed a startled expression on his face. Why had he just thought
that? There wasn't anything for him to be a defeatist about? He had a beautiful wife, a great cousin and
had just stumbled across a major archaeological discovery. He should be ecstatic, not despondent.
He yawned, shrugged those thoughts off, and made a pot of Black. Then he sat and stared at the smaller
plastic squares, still sitting on the counter. As he sipped his drink his thoughts turned to the song
that the object had played last night.
Who is Jesus? he thought. I feel as though I should know that name...
Maryn wandered sleepily out into the room, still in her nightshirt and yawning. Gray stood and greeted her.
"Hi honey," she said. Her gaze fell on the artifact and she grinned. "You haunted by that thing too?"
She meant it to be a joke, but they each saw in the other's eyes that it was the truth... they had both
been haunted. They felt like something was missing.
"Who do you think that Jesus Christ person the song talked about is?" asked Gray.
Maryn simply shrugged. "We should let the guys at ArcSociety figure it out. You see
Hyrr this morning?" Gray shook his head and indicated with a nod his cousin's quarters.
Maryn grinned again and nodded knowingly. They both knew Hyrr's sleeping habits. Extensive sleeping habits.
Man and wife sat down on the couch and turned on the Entertainer.
Five hours later, after several games of Dust and a good breakfast, Gray started thinking about the song
again. For those five hours nothing had bothered him. He had managed to forget about the conviction...
but not for long enough, apparently. He put his hand to his chin and thought, for along time.
Maryn screamed.
Gray sat straight up, then jumped to his feet and ran to his wife's side. She was standing in the doorway
to Hyrr's room. And there... on his bed...
Gray turned away, and turned Maryn away too. She was sobbing. Hyrr… didn't look like himself anymore.
As the psyches would say, "Hyrr isn't in Hyrr anymore."
Quietly, after both of them stood there for awhile, Gray spoke,
"Why? How..."
He didn't need to ask how, though. Gray had seen the injector in Hyrr's hand during the brief moment he
had looked upon his cousin's body. Hyrr had killed himself... The couple turned, went to their bedroom
and called the ArcSociety headquarters. Ten minutes later, a lift took Hyrr's body away.
They couldn't shake the feeling that somehow, the conviction that both of them felt was related to
Hyrr's suicide. They didn't sleep.
As the sun broke it's red light on Gray and Maryn's dwelling, the two looked into each other's eyes.
Grief happened. They both were thinking they needed to put it behind them. But first they wanted answers.
They lay in bed, talking.
"We were only exposed to the artifact for a very short time... but the guilt took hold during that time."
said Gray, almost whispering.
"Why did we live through the guilt-" "So far..." broke in his wife.
"So far," he continued. "--and he didn't? He was certainly stronger than us."
Maryn nodded, but her movement abruptly froze. She slowly put a finger to her lips. Gray recognized his
wife's indication that she had the beginnings of an idea, and needed to finish it. He waited, patiently,
holding her hand. She finally blurted out,
"I don't know if this Jesus was evil or good, but he's behind the reason Hyrr died
and we feel so guilty. That nice voice in the artifact sang about Jesus rescuing people.
But... I get the feeling there's more to it than that. We should listen to more songs."
They did. And they heard beautiful and haunting messages, combined with beautiful and haunting melodies.
One song sang about a young man who killed himself, and Maryn broke down sobbing again. Another song
spoke of conviction. Two pairs of eyes widened as they heard the message behind that song. "A tug at the
heart is a God at the door". The music stopped.
Their minds didn't.
Gray spoke, softly again, to the ceiling,
"God?"
The one word, spoken so quietly, resounded and grew in intensity in the little hovel. Or at least, in
Gray's mind. His wife stood up next to him and also said,
"God." but with a little more conviction.
It felt like the right thing to do... They fell to their knees, as if at an ArcSociety meeting, and
confessed as they would to their mother. They told about how they were feeling. They told about how much
they hated Jesus for causing the death of Hyrr. They told about how much they loved Jesus because of the
feeling his name brought during the times they engaged in thought.
Only Forty-eight hours before neither of them had heard of God. In that time, their lives changed. A
cousin died, but new life was born into both of their hearts. As they had heard on one of the songs,
they asked Jesus to come into their hearts, not knowing what that meant.
Two hours later, they collapsed on the floor, panting, sobbing, and grinning.
What is wrong with us? they both thought. Then they started laughing. They just gave their lives to
someone they hadn't heard about two days ago. But their laughter wasn't one of self-mockery, but of real
joy. Pain past, joy for the now-times.
They hugged and Gray returned to the dig site. After some rooting around in the rocks he found a thick
book, full of words. He and his wife read the whole thing through, smiling and thinking. They felt better
than they ever had in their life. How could something like this have been forgotten?
Two humans on the path of salvation in a world about to die… some would have called it futile. Maryn
and Gray called it life.
Hundreds of miles away in the ArcSociety labs, an old man looking through a telescope at the sun froze
and cried. His readings showed catastrophe was imminent. Today, most likely. He felt a longing. That's
when the Instant machine on his desk whirred. He turned to it and read the message as it was printed.
It simply said,
"Trust in the Lord almighty... Come to our dig site. Maryn and Gray."
Three hours later the artifact was in ArcSociety labs. Seven hundred people sat convicted in a large
audience hall.
The seed was planted anew...
Copyright 1998-2000 by Ian Arbuckle
Information Please
author unknown
When I was quite young, my father had one of the first telephones in our neighborhood. I remember well the polished old case fastened to the wall. The shiny receiver hung on the side of the box. I was too little to reach the telephone, but used to listen with fascination when my mother used to talk to it.
Then I discovered that somewhere inside the wonderful device lived an amazing person--her name was Information Please and there was nothing she did not know. Information Please could supply anyone's number and the correct time.
My first personal experience with this genie-in-the-bottle came one day while my mother was visiting a neighbor. Amusing myself at the tool bench in the basement, I whacked my finger with a hammer. The pain was terrible, but there didn't seem to be any reason in crying because there was no one home to give sympathy. I walked around the house sucking my throbbing finger, finally arriving at the stairway--The telephone!
Quickly I ran for the footstool in the parlor and dragged it into the landing. Climbing up I unhooked the receiver in the parlor and held it to my ear. "Information Please", I said into the mouthpiece just above my head.
A click or two and a small clear voice spoke into my ear.
"Information."
"I hurt my finger..." I wailed into the phone. The tears came readily enough now that I had an audience.
"Isn't your mother home?" came the question.
"Nobody's home but me," I blubbered.
"Are you bleeding?"
"No," I replied. "I hit my finger with the hammer and it hurts."
"Can you open your icebox?" she asked. I said I could. "Then chip off a little piece of ice and hold it to your finger."
After that I called Information Please for everything. I asked her for help with my Geography and she told me where Philadelphia was. She helped me with my math, and she told me my pet chipmunk--I had caught in the park just the day before--would eat fruits and nuts.
And there was the time that Petey, our pet canary, died. I called Information Please and told her the sad story. She listened, then said the usual things grown-ups say to console a child. but I was uncensored. Why is it that birds should sing so beautifully and bring joy to all families, only to end up as a heap of feathers, feet up on the bottom of a cage?
She must have sensed my deep concern, for she said quietly, "Paul, always remember that there are other worlds to sing in."
Somehow I felt better.
Another day I was on the telephone. "Information Please."
"How do you spell fix?" I asked?
All this took place in a small town in the Pacific Northwest. Then when I was 9 years old, we moved across the country to Boston--I missed my friend very much. Information Please belonged in that old wooden box back home, and I somehow never thought of trying the tall, shiny new phone that sat on the hall table.
Yet as I grew into my teens, the memories of those childhood conversations never really left me; often in moments of doubt and perplexity I would recall the serene sense of security I had then. I appreciate now how patient, understanding and kind she was to have spent her time on a little boy.
A few years later, on my way west to college, my plane put down in Seattle. I had about half an hour or so between planes, and I spent 15 minutes on the phone with my sister, who lived there now. Then without thinking what I was doing, I dialed my hometown operator and said, "Information Please."
Miraculously, I heard again the small, clear voice I knew so well, "Information." I hadn't planned this, but I heard myself saying, "Could you tell me how to spell fix."
There was a long pause. Then came the soft spoken answer, "I guess that your finger must have healed by now."
I laughed, "So it's really still you," I said. "I wonder if you have any idea how much you meant to me during that time."
"I wonder," she said, "if you know how much your calls meant to me. I never had any children, and I used to look forward to your calls."
I told her how often I had thought of her over the years and I asked if I could call her again when I came back to visit my sister.
"Please do, just ask for Sally."
Just three months later I was back in Seattle...A different voice answered Information and I asked for Sally.
"Are you a friend?"
"Yes, a very old friend."
"Then I'm sorry to have to tell you. Sally has been working part-time the last few years because she was sick. She died five weeks ago." But before I could hang up she said, "Wait a minute. Did you say your name was Paul?"
"Yes."
"Well, Sally left a message for you. She wrote it down. Here it is, I'll read it--'Tell him I still say there are other worlds to sing in. He'll know what I mean.'"
I thanked her and hung up. I did know what Sally meant.
Is God Married?
author unknown
A little boy about 10 years old was standing before a shoe store on Broadway, barefooted, peering through the window, and shivering with cold. A lady approached the boy and said, "My little fellow, why are you looking so earnestly in that window?" "I was asking God to give me a pair of shoes," was the boys reply. The lady took him by the hand and went into the store, and asked the clerk to get half a dozen pairs of socks for the boy. She then asked if he could give her a basin of water and a towel. He quickly brought them to her.
She took the little fellow to the back part of the store and, removing her gloves, knelt down, washed his little feet and dried them with a towel. By this time the clerk had returned with the socks. She placed the socks upon the boy's feet. Then she purchased him a pair of shoes, and picking up the remaining pairs of socks, gave them to him. She patted him on the head and said, "No doubt, my little fellow, you feel more comfortable now?" As she turned to go, the astonished boy caught her by the hand and with tears in his eyes he looked up in her face, and asked her innocently, "Are you God's Wife?"
Is This Jar Full?
author unknown
A while back I was reading about an expert on the subject of time management. One day this expert was speaking to a group of business students and, to drive home a point, used an illustration those students will never forget. As this man stood in front of the group of high-powered overachievers he said, "Okay, time for a quiz."
Then he pulled out a one-gallon, wide-mouthed mason jar and set it on a table in front of him. Then he produced about a dozen fist-sized rocks and carefully placed them, one at a time, into the jar. When the jar was filled to the top and no more rocks would fit inside, he asked, "Is this jar full?"
Everyone in the class said, "Yes." Then he said, "Really?" He reached under the table and pulled out a bucket of gravel. Then he dumped some gravel in and shook the jar causing pieces of gravel to work themselves down into the spaces between the big rocks. Then he asked the group once more, "Is the jar full?" By this time the class was onto him. Probably not," one of them answered. "Good!" he replied.
He reached under the table and brought out a bucket of sand. He started dumping the sand in and it went into all the spaces left between the rocks and the gravel. Once more he asked the question, "Is this jar full?"
"No!" the class shouted. Once again he said, "Good!" Then he grabbed a pitcher of water and began to pour it in until the jar was filled to the brim. Then he looked up at the class and asked, "What is the point of this illustration?"
One eager beaver raised his hand and said, "The point is, no matter how full your schedule is, if you try really hard, you can always fit some more things into it!" "No," the speaker replied, "that's not the point. The truth this illustration teaches us is: If you don't put the big rocks in first, you'll never get them in at all." What are the 'big rocks' in your life? A project that YOU want to accomplish? Time with your loved ones? Your faith, your education, your finances? A cause? Teaching or mentoring others? Remember to put these BIG ROCKS in first or you'll never get them in at all.
So, tonight or in the morning when you are reflecting on this short story, ask yourself this question: What are the 'big rocks' in my life or business?
Then, put those in your jar first.
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