A switchman sat in a small shack on one side of the river where he operated the controls to turn the bridge and lock it into place as the train crossed. One evening as the switchman was waiting for the last train of the day to come, he looked off into the distance through the dimming twilight and caught sight of the train's light. He stepped to the controls and waited until the train was within a prescribed distance when he was to turn the bridge into position. He turned the bridge, but to his horror, found that the locking control didn't work. If the bridge was not locked into position securely, it would wobble back and forth at the ends when the train came onto it. This would cause the train to jump the track and go crashing into the river. This train was a passenger train with many people aboard.
He left the bridge turned across the river, and hurried across the bridge to the other side of the river where there was a lever he could use to operate the lock manually. He could hear the rumble of the train now. He took hold of the lever and leaned backward to apply pressure to keep the mechanism locked. Many lives depended on this man's strength.
Then, coming across the bridge from the direction of his control shack he heard a sound that made his blood run cold: "Daddy, where are you?" His four year old son was crossing the bridge to look for him. His first impulse was to cry out to the child, "Run, run!" but the train was to close, the tiny legs would never make it across the bridge in time. The man almost lifted the lever to run and snatch up his son, and carry him to safety, but he realized he could not get back to the lever in time. Either the people on the train or his little son must die.
He took just a moment to make his decision. The train sped swiftly and safely on it's way, and no one aboard was aware of the tiny, broken body thrown mercilessly into the river by the rushing train. Nor were they aware of the pitiful figure of a sobbing man still clinging tightly to the lever long after the train had passed. They didn't see him walking home more slowly than he had ever walked, to tell his wife how he had sacrificed her son.
Now if you can comprehend the feelings which went through this man's heart, you can understand the feeling of our Heavenly Father when he sacrificed his Son to bridge the gap between us and eternal life. How does He feel when we speed along through life without giving a thought to what was done for us through his Son, Jesus Christ? Can there be any wonder that He caused the earth to tremble and the skies to darken when His only Son died?
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Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude .It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends!!!!! (Makes you look at the stupid excuses for divorce in a new light, huh?)
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And then without being told, I knew exactly where I was. This lifeless room with its small files was a crude catalog system for my life. Here were written the actions of my every moment, big and small, in a detail my memory couldn't match.
A sense of wonder and curiosity, coupled with horror, stirred within me as I began randomly opening files and exploring their content. Some brought joy and sweet memories; others a sense of shame and regret so intense that I would look over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching. A file named "Friends" was next to one marked "Friends I Have Betrayed".
The titles ranged from the mundane to the outright weird. "Books I Have Read", "Lies I Have Told", "Comfort I Have Given", "Jokes I Have Laughed At". Some were almost hilarious in their exactness: "Things I've Yelled at My Brothers." Others I couldn't laugh at: "Things I Have Done in My Anger", "Things I Have Muttered Under My Breath at My Parents". I never ceased to be surprised by the contents. Often there were many more cards than I expected. Sometimes fewer than I hoped.
I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life I had lived. Could it be possible that I had the time in my 20 years to write each of these thousands or even millions of cards? But each card confirmed this truth. Each was written in my own handwriting. Each signed with my signature.
When I pulled out the file marked "Songs I Have Listened To", I realized the files grew to contain their contents. The cards were packed tightly, and yet after two or three yards, I hadn't found the end of the file. I shut it, shamed, not so much by the quality of music, but more by the vast amount of time I knew that file represented.
When I came to a file marked "Lustful Thoughts", I felt a chill run through my body. I pulled the file out only an inch, not willing to test its size, and drew out a card. I shuddered at its detailed content. I felt sick to think that such a moment had been recorded.
An almost animal rage broke on me. One thought dominated my mind: "No one must ever see these cards! No one must ever see this room! I have to destroy them!" In an insane frenzy I yanked the file out. Its size didn't matter now. I had to empty it and burn the cards. But as I took it at one end and began pounding it on the floor, I could not dislodge a single card. I became desperate and pulled out a card, only to find it as strong as steel when I tried to tear it.
Defeated and utterly helpless, I returned the file to its slot. Leaning my forehead against the wall, I let out a long, self-pitying sigh. And then I saw it. The title bore "People I Have Shared the Gospel With". The handle was brighter than those around it, newer, almost unused. I pulled on its handle and a small box not more than three inches long fell into my hands. I could count the cards it contained on one hand.
And then the tears came. I began to weep. Sobs so deep that they hurt started in my stomach and shook through me. I fell on my knees and cried. I cried out of shame, from the overwhelming shame of it all. The rows of file shelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes. No one must ever, ever know of this room. I must lock it up and hide the key.
But then as I pushed away the tears, I saw Him. No, please not Him. Not here. Oh, anyone but Jesus. I watched helplessly as He began to open the files and read the cards. I couldn't bear to watch His response. And in the moments I could bring myself to look at His face, I saw a sorrow deeper than my own. He seemed to intuitively go to the worst boxes. Why did He have to read every one?
Finally He turned and looked at me from across the room. He looked at me with pity in His eyes. But this was a pity that didn't anger me. I dropped my head, covered my face with my hands and began to cry again. He walked over and put His arm around me. He could have said so many things. But He didn't say a word. He just cried with me.
Then He got up and walked back to the wall of files. Starting at one end of the room, He took out a file and, one by one, began to sign His name over mine on each card.
"No!" I shouted rushing to Him. All I could find to say was "No, no," as I pulled the card from Him. His name shouldn't be on these cards. But there it was, written in red so rich, so dark, so alive. The name of Jesus covered mine. It was written with His blood.
He gently took the card back. He smiled a sad smile and began to sign the cards. I don't think I'll ever understand how He did it so quickly, but the next instant it seemed I heard Him close the last file and walk back to my side. He placed His hand on my shoulder and said, "It is finished."
I stood up, and He led me out of the room. There was no lock on its door. There were still cards to be written.
by Josh Harris
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The children were dressing to crawl into
bed,
Not once ever kneeling or bowing a head.
And Mom in rocker with baby on her lap
Was watching the Late Show while I took
a nap.
When out to the East there arose such a
clatter,
I sprang to my feet to see what was the
matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash
Tore open the shutters and threw up the
sash!
When what to my wondering eyes should appear
But angles proclaiming that Jesus was
here.
With a light like the sun sending forth
a bright ray
I knew in a moment this must be the day!
The light of His face made me cover my
head
It was Jesus! returning just like he said.
And though I possessed worldly wisdom
and wealth,
I cried when I saw him in spite of myself.
In the Book of Life which he held in his
hand
Was written the name of every saved man.
He spoke not a word as He searched for
my name;
When He said "Its not here" my head hung
in shame.
The people whose names had been written
with love
He gathered to take to His father above.
With those who were ready He rose without
a sound
While all the rest were left standing
around.
I fell to my knees, but it was too late;
I had waited too long and thus sealed
my fate
I stood and I cried as they rose out of
sight;
Oh, if only I had been ready tonight.
In the words of this poem the meaning is
clear;
The coming of Jesus is drawing near.
There is only one life and when comes
the last call
We'll find that the Bible was true after
all!
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He began with a stick of pure white, hard candy. The white symbolized the Virgin Birth and the sinless nature of Jesus. The hard candy symbolized the Solid Rock that was the foundation of the Church (God) and the firmness of the promises of God. The candy maker make the candy in the form of a "J" to represent the precious name of Jesus, who came to earth as our savior. It also represented the staff of the "Good Shepherd" with which He reaches down into the ditches of the world to gather the fallen lambs who, like all sheep, have gone astray. Thinking that the candy was somewhat plain, the candy maker stained it with red stripes. He used three small stripes to show the stripes of the scourging Jesus received by which we are healed. The large red stripe was for the blood shed by Christ on the cross so that we could have the promise of eternal life and a relationship with God.
Unfortunately, the candy became known as a Candy Cane--a meaningless decoration seen at Christmas time. But the meaning is still there for those who "have eyes to see and ears to hear." I pray that this symbol will again be used to witness to the Wonder of Jesus and His Great Love of every person, that came down at Christmas and remains the ultimate and dominant force in the universe today.
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