JESUS LIVES 12
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WHAT A BIKE RIDE
At first I saw God as my observer. My judge
keeping track of the things I did wrong.
But later on when I met Christ it seem as
though Life were rather like a bike ride,
but it was a tandem bike, And I noticed Christ
was in the back helping me pedal.
I don't know just when it was that He suggested we
change places, But life has not been the same since.
When I had control, I knew the way. It was rather
boring, but predictable... It was the shortest
distance between two points.
But when He took the lead, He knew delightful
long cuts, Up mountains and through rocky places
at breakneck speeds. It was all I could do to
hang on! Even though it looked like madness, He
said, "Pedal!" I worried and was anxious and
asked, "Where are you taking me?" He laughed and
did not answer and I started to learn to trust.
I forgot my boring life and entered into the
adventure. And when I'd say, "I'm scared," He'd
lean back and touch my hand.
I did not trust Him at first, in control of my
life. I though He'd wreck it; but He knows bike
secrets, Knows how to make it bend to take sharp
corners, Knows how to jump to clear high rocks,
Knows how to fly to shorten scary passages.
I'm leaning to shut up and pedal in the strangest
places, And I'm beginning to enjoy the view and
the cool breeze on my face, and my delightful
constant companion, Jesus Christ. And when I'm
sure I just can't do anymore, He just smiles
and says... "Pedal."
When we trust God to steer our lives and let Him
be in control, we can let go of our worries.
Author Unknown
VISITING DAY
He had been looking forward to this moment all
day long, after six days of labor it had finally
arrived - Visiting Day!
The man with the keys had arrived to swing open
the large, heavy doors. The cold gray hall sprang
to life in the warm glow of light. He could hardly
control His emotions. The families began to arrive.
He peers from the corner of the room longing for
the first glimpse of His loved ones. He lives for
the weekends. He lives for these visits. As the
cars arrive, He watches intently.Then, finally,
they arrive, those for whom He would do anything.
They embrace, eat a light lunch and reminisce how
things used to be. At one point, they break into
singing, with interruptions of laughter and
applause. But all too soon it is over. A tear comes
to His eyes as they depart. Then the men with the
keys close the heavy doors. He hears the key turn
in the lock marking the end of a special day.
There He stands, alone again. He knows most of
His visitors will not contact Him again till next
week. As the last car pulls away from the parking
lot, JESUS retreats into loneliness as He waits
until next Sunday ~ ~
~~Visiting Day~~
Author Unknown
THE MASTER'S CARD
There are some things money can't buy, for
everything else there's MasterCard."
Friends, I'm not unlike those agencies promoting
their favorite credit card. I'm here to advertise.
You see, my life is a commercial for others to see.
I'm a card carrying representative for the Master's
Card. That's right, the MASTER'S CARD.
Let me tell you about it.
There are no finance charges, no payments due. My
bill has already been covered...it's a prepaid deal.
I couldn't afford the price, so Jesus stepped in
and paid it for me. My Name is written on the card
for all to see. It is accessible twenty-four hours
a day from anywhere in the world.
The MASTER'S CARD has so many benefits it's
hard to list them all. Let me share some of them
with you...you might want to apply for a personal
card yourself.
Just for starters there is UNLIMITED GRACE.
That's right, there is no preset limit to the amount
of grace you receive from the MASTER'S CARD.
Have you been looking for love in all the wrong
places? Then, look no farther than the MASTER'S
CARD. It offers the greatest rate on love
that has ever been offered. The MASTER'S CARD
gives you access to many "members only" benefits.
Want real joy despite the difficulties of life?
Apply for the MASTER'S CARD.
Want a lasting peace?
Apply for the MASTER'S CARD.
Looking for something you can always rely on
in a jam? The MASTER'S CARD is perfect
for you. Another great thing about the
MASTER'S CARD is that it never expires.
Once you're a member, you're a member for life...
eternal life, that is. Membership has its
privileges, you know.
How do you receive the MASTER'S CARD?
Dial 1-800-ROMANS10:9 "if thou shalt confess
with thy mouth the Lord Jesus, and shalt believe
in thine heart that God hath raised him from the
dead, thou shalt be saved."
Jesus is standing by right now to take your call.
Don't delay. This great offer won't last forever.
Peace, joy and hope: Invaluable. Faith, contentment
and assurance: Inestimable. Salvation: Priceless.
There are some things money can't buy.
For those, there's the..........
MASTER'S CARD.
Christian, why not be an advertisement for the
MASTER'S CARD. Let your life be a commercial
today for Jesus Christ. "The Lord's unfailing
love surrounds those who trust in Him..."
Author Unknown
ETERNAL INK
I dreamed I was in heaven
Where an angel kept God's book.
He was writing so intently
I just had to take a look.
It was not, at first, his writing
That made me stop and think
But the fluid in the bottle
That was marked eternal ink.
This ink was most amazing,
Dark black upon his blotter
But as it touched the parchment
It became as clear as water.
The angel kept on writing,
But as quickly as a wink
The words were disappearing
With that strange eternal ink.
The angel took no notice,
But kept writing on and on.
He turned each page and filled it
Till all its space was gone.
I thought he wrote to no avail,
His efforts were so vain
For he wrote a thousand pages
That he'd never read again.
And as I watched and wondered that
This awesome sight was mine,
I actually saw a word stay black
As it dried upon the line.
The angel wrote and I thought I saw
A look of satisfaction.
At last he had some print to show
For all his earnest action.
A line or two dried dark and stayed
As black as black can be,
But strangely the next paragraph
Became invisible to see.
The book was getting fuller,
The angel's records true,
But most of it was blank, with
Just a few words coming through.
I knew there was some reason,
But as hard as I could think,
I couldn't grasp the significance
Of that eternal ink.
The mystery burned within me,
And I finally dared to ask
The angel to explain to me
Of his amazing task.
And what I heard was frightful
As the angel turned his head.
He looked directly at me,
And this is what he said...
I know you stand and wonder
At what my writing's worth
But God has told me to record
The lives of those on earth.
The book that I am filling
Is an accurate account
Of every word and action
And to what they do amount.
And since you have been watching
I must tell you what is true;
The details of my journal
Are the strict accounts of YOU.
The Lord asked me to watch you
As each day you worked and played.
I saw you as you went to church,
I saw you as you prayed.
But I was told to document
Your life through all the week.
I wrote when you were proud and bold,
I wrote when you were meek.
I recorded all your attitudes
Whether they were good or bad.
I was sorry that I had to write
The things that make God sad.
So now I'll tell the wonder
Of this eternal ink,
For the reason for its mystery
Should make you stop and think.
This ink that God created
To help me keep my journal
Will only keep a record of
Things that are eternal.
So much of life is wasted
On things that matter not
So instead of my erasing,
Smudging ink and ugly blot.
I just keep writing faithfully and
Let the ink do all the rest
For it is able to decide
What's useless and what's best.
And God ordained that as I write
Of all you do and say
Your deeds that count for nothing
Will just disappear away.
When books are opened someday,
As sure as heaven is true;
The Lord's eternal ink will tell
What mattered most to you.
If you just lived to please yourself
The pages will be bare,
And God will issue no reward
For you when you get there.
In fact, you'll be embarrassed,
You will hang your head in shame
Because you did not give yourself
In love to Jesus' Name.
Yet maybe there will be a few
Recorded lines that stayed
That showed the times you truly cared,
Sincerely loved and prayed.
But you will always wonder
As you enter heaven's door
How much more glad you would have been
If only you'd done more.
For I record as God sees,
I don't stop to even think
Because the truth is written
With God's eternal ink.
When I heard the angel's story
I fell down and wept and cried
For as yet I still was dreaming
I hadn't really died.
And I said: O angel tell the Lord
That soon as I awake
I'll live my life for Jesus-
I'll do all for His dear sake.
I'll give in full surrender;
I'll do all He wants me to;
I'll turn my back on self and sin
And whatever isn't true.
And though the way seems long and rough
I promise to endure.
I'm determined to pursue the things
That are holy, clean and pure.
With Jesus as my helper,
I will win lost souls to Thee,
For I know that they will live with
Christ For all eternity.
And that's what really matters
When my life on earth is gone
That I will stand before the Lord
And hear Him say, well done.
For is it really worth it
As my life lies at the brink?
And I realize that God keeps books
With His eternal ink.
Should all my life be focused
On things that turn to dust?
From this point on I'll serve the Lord;
I can, I will, I must!
I will NOT send blank pages
Up to God's majestic throne
For where that record's going now
Is my eternal home.
I'm giving all to Jesus
I now have seen the link
For I saw an angel write my life
With God's Eternal Ink.
(the actual account of a dream)
by Craig F. Pitts
HE KNOWS
To remind you that God is watching over you
EVERY second of the day and of His love for
you no matter how far you run. Do you believe
that God not only loves you, but knows where
you are and what you're doing every minute of the
day? I certainly do after an amazing experience I
had several years ago.
At the time I was driving on 1-75 near Dayton,
Ohio, with my wife and children. We turned off
the highway for a rest and refreshment stop. My
wife Barbara and children went into the restaurant.
I suddenly felt the need to stretch my legs, so
waved them off ahead saying I'd join them later.
I bought a soft drink, and as I walked toward a
Dairy Queen, feelings of self pity enshrouded my
mind. I loved the Lord and my ministry, but I felt
drained, burdened. My cup was empty.
Suddenly the impatient ringing of a telephone
nearby jarred me out of my doldrums. It was coming
from a phone booth at a service station on the
corner. Wasn't anyone going to answer the phone?
Noise from the traffic flowing through the busy
intersection must have drowned out the sound
because the service station attendant continued
looking after his customers, oblivious to the
incessant ringing. "Why doesn't somebody answer
that phone?" I muttered. I began reasoning. It may
be important. What if it's an emergency? Curiosity
overcame my indifference. I stepped inside the
booth and picked up the phone. "Hello," I said
casually and took a big sip of my drink. The
operator said: "Long distance call for Ken
Gaub." My eyes widened, and I almost choked
on a chunk of ice.
Swallowing hard, I said, "You're crazy!" Then
realizing I shouldn't speak to an operator like
that, I added, "This can't be! I was walking down
the road, not bothering anyone, and the phone was
ringing..." "Is Ken Gaub there?" the operator
interrupted, "I have a long distance call for him."
It took a moment to gain control of my babbling, but
I finally replied, "Yes, he is here." Searching for
a possible explanation, I wondered if I could
possibly be on Candid Camera!
Still shaken, perplexed, I asked, "How in the
world did you reach me here? I was walking down
the road, the pay phone started ringing, and just
answered it on chance. You can't mean me."
"Well," the operator asked, "is Mr. Gaub there or
isn't he?" "Yes, I am Ken Gaub," I said, finally
convinced by the tone of her voice that the call
was real. Then I heard another voice say, "Yes,
that's him, operator. That's Ken Gaub."
I listened dumbfounded to a strange voice identify
herself. "I'm Millie from Harrisburg, Pennsylvania.
You don't know me, Mr. Gaub, but I'm so desperate.
Please help me."
"What can I do for you?"
She began weeping. Finally she regained control and
continued. "I was about to commit suicide, had just
finished writing a note, when I began to pray and
tell God I really didn't want to do this. Then I
suddenly remembered seeing you on television and
thought if I could just talk to you, you could
help me.
I knew that was impossible because I didn't know
how to reach you, I didn't know anyone who could
help me find you. Then some numbers came to
my mind, and I scribbled them down."
At this point she began weeping again, and I prayed
silently for wisdom to help her. She continued, "I
looked at the numbers and thought, Wouldn't it be
wonderful if I had a miracle from God, and He has
given me Ken's phone number? I decided to try
calling it. I can't believe I'm talking to you.
Are you in your office in California?" I replied,
"Lady, I don't have an office in California. My
office is in Yakima, Washington."
A little surprised, she asked, "Oh really, then
where are you?" "Don't you know?" I responded.
"You made the call." She explained, "But I don't
even know what area I'm calling. I just dialed the
number that I had on this paper."
"Ma'am, you won't believe this, but I'm in a phone
booth in Dayton Ohio!"
"Really?" she exclaimed. "Well, what are you doing
there?" I kidded her gently, "Well, I'm answering
the phone. It was ringing as I walked by, so I
answered it."
Knowing this encounter could only have been
arranged by God, I began to counsel the woman.
As she told me of her despair and frustration,
the presence of the Holy Spirit flooded the phone
booth giving me words of wisdom beyond my ability.
In a matter of moments, she prayed the sinner's
prayer and met the One who would lead her out of
her situation into a new life. I walked away from
that telephone booth with an electrifying sense of
our heavenly Father's concern for each of His
children. What were the astronomical odds of this
happening. With all the millions of phones and
innumerable combinations of numbers, only an
all-knowing God could have caused that woman
to call that number in that phone booth at that
moment in time.
Forgetting my drink and nearly bursting with
exhilaration, I headed back to my family, wondering
if they would believe my story. Maybe I better not
tell this I thought, but I couldn't contain it.
"Barb, you won't believe this! God knows where I am!"
God also knows where you are. Place yourself in His
hands, concentrate on knowing His will for your life,
and He will never forsake or forget you.
Author: Ken Gaub
MY CHOICE
Oh, to hear the stories that Christians tell Of Satan,
fire, death and hell
Of demons that torture night and day
Of pain and suffering along the way.
They say these things are meant to be
For only those who just won't see
The other choice, the ONE above
The God of Peace and Hope and Love.
Now what if I choose Satan's way
To live my life from day to day
Just let myself have loads of fun
Now how much harm could I have done?
First I could just go hang around
In the darker parts of town
Or lie or steal or cuss and drink
It doesn't matter what people think.
And what's a little cheating now and then?
Everyone does it; it's not such a sin.
I only want what I deserve
So to have my way, who do I serve?
You say this Christ, He died for me?
He paid the price to set me free?
He willingly laid down His life
To save me from all sin and strife?
He took my cross and carried it
To keep me from the fiery pit
He took away all sin and shame
And laid it on His Precious Name.
Now why would Jesus care for me
So much he'd hang there on that tree?
He's given all that He can give
To offer Life and let me live.
I guess my choice is finally clear
I'll serve my God while I am here
I'll love Him every day I live
I'll give Him all I've got to give.
I know He knows what's best for me
For He can see things I can't see
I'll trust Him each and every day
For every step along the way.
The choice is clear -- God's way is best
For, Satan, you have failed the test.
You're doomed already, by the Book
God's already said it. Take a look!
And Satan, you can't have my heart
For Jesus lives there; he won't part
And just to let you know who's boss
Just look at that ol' rugged cross.
For that ol' cross, you'll find it bare
For Jesus is no longer there
Death can't keep him in the grave
Freedom over death, He gave.
I'll have eternity to Praise His Name
I'll know I'll never be the same
Since Christ has set me free from sin
And sent His Holy Spirit to dwell within.
So let me share my song with you
And tell you what my God can do
He'll give you Peace and Joy inside
And from your fears, you'll never hide.
For all victory is yours, in Jesus' Name
And you will never be the same
Let Jesus in and take His hand
You'll be on your way to the Promise Land....
Author: Shirley Gutierrez
SMALL MOMENTS
Twenty years ago, I drove a cab for a living.
It was a cowboy's life, a life for someone who
wanted no boss. What I didn't realize was that
it was also a ministry. Because I drove the night
shift, my cab became a moving confessional.
Passengers climbed in, sat behind me in total
anonymity, and told me about their lives. I
encountered people whose lives amazed me,
ennobled me, made me laugh and weep. But none
touched me more than a woman I picked up late
one August night.
I was responding to a call from a small brick
fourplex in a quiet part of town. I assumed I
was being sent to pick up some partyers, or
someone who had just had a fight with a lover,
or a worker heading to an early shift at some
factory for the industrial part of town.
When I arrived at 2:30 a.m., the building was
dark except for a single light in a ground
floor window. Under such circumstances, many
drivers just honk once or twice, wait a minute,
then drive away. But I had seen too many
impoverished people who depended on taxis as
their only means of transportation. Unless a
situation smelled of danger, I always went to
the door. This passenger might be someone who
needs my assistance, I reasoned to myself. So
I walked to the door and knocked.
Just a minute," answered a frail, elderly voice.
I could hear something being dragged across the
floor. After a long pause, the door opened. A
small woman in her 80s stood before me. She
was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with
a veil pinned on it, like somebody out of a
1940s movie. By her side was a small nylon
suitcase. The apartment looked as if no one had
lived in it for years. All the furniture was
covered with sheets. There were no clocks on the
walls, no knickknacks or utensils on the counters.
In the corner was a cardboard box filled with
photos and glassware. "Would you carry my bag out
to the car?" she said.
I took the suitcase to the cab, then returned to
assist the woman. She took my arm and we walked
slowly toward the curb. She kept thanking me for
my kindness."It's nothing," I told her. "I just
try to treat my passengers the way I would want
my mother treated." "Oh, you're such a good
boy," she said.
When we got in the cab,she gave me an address,
then asked, "Can you drive through downtown?"
"It's not the shortest way," I answered quickly.
"Oh, I don't mind,"she said. "I'm in no hurry.
I'm on my way to a hospice." I looked in the
rearview mirror. Her eyes were glistening."I
don't have any family left," she continued.
"The doctor says I don't have very long." I
quietly reached over and shut off the meter.
"What route would you like me to take?" I asked.
For the next two hours, we drove through the city.
She showed me the building where she had once
worked as an elevator operator. We drove through
the neighborhood where she and her husband had
lived when they were newlyweds. She had me pull
up in front of a furniture warehouse that had
once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing
as a girl.Sometimes she'd ask me to slow in front
of a particular building or corner and would
sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing.
As the first hint of sun was creasing the
horizon, she suddenly said, "I'm tired. Let's go
now." We drove in silence to the address she
had given me. It was a low building, like a
small convalescent home, with a driveway that
passed under a portico.
Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as
we pulled up. They were solicitous and intent,
watching her every move. They must have been
expecting her. I opened the trunk and took the
small suitcase to the door. The woman was already
seated in a wheelchair.
"How much do I owe you?" she asked, reaching
into her purse. "Nothing," I said. "You have
to make a living," she answered. "There are
other passengers," I responded. Almost without
thinking,I bent and gave her a hug. She held
onto me tightly. "You gave an old woman a little
moment of joy," she said. "Thank you." I squeezed
her hand, then walked into the dim morning light.
Behind me, a door shut. It was the sound of
the closing of a life. I didn't pick up any
more passengers that shift. I drove aimlessly,
lost in thought. For the rest of that day, I
could hardly talk. What if that woman had gotten
an angry driver, or one who was impatient to
end his shift? What if I had refused to take
the run, or had honked once, then driven away?
On a quick review, I don't think that I have
done anything more important in my life.
We're conditioned to think that our lives
revolve around great moments. But great moments
often catch us unaware beautifully wrapped in
what others may consider a small one.
Author Unknown
Page 13
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