Illustration results for friendship
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Sermon & Worship Packages: Time to Remember
JACKIE ROBINSON was the first African American to play baseball in the major leagues. Breaking baseball’s color barrier, he faced hostile crowds in every stadium. While playing one day in his home stadium of Ebbets Field in Brooklyn, he committed an error. The fans began to jeer him. He stood at second base, humiliated, while the crowd booed. Then, without saying a word, shortstop Pee Wee Reese went over and stood next to Jackie. He put his arm around him and faced the crowd. Suddenly the fans grew quiet. Robinson later said that that arm around his shoulder saved his career.
Bruce Howell
Illus.: Wise Use of Tools
James S. Hewett tells of a neighbor he had who was trying to put a TV antenna on his roof, but was having a terrible time. Hewett decided to give him a hand. He went over and took with him his best tools and soon had the antenna up. His neighbor asked him what he made with such fancy tools. Hewett replied, “Friends, mostly.”
I am told about this newspaper in England giving a reward for the best definition of what is a friend?
Thousands answered, the winner?
"A FRIEND IS ONE THAT COMES WHEN EVERYONE ELSE GOES."
Ryan Johnson
Matthew 13:24-13:43
1 Samuel 16:7-16:7
Matthew 6:33-6:33
Matthew 1:1-24:1
2 Corinthians 14:5-15:6
1 Samuel 16:7-16:7
Matthew 12:38-12:38
THE PEOPLE WITH THE ROSES
John Blanchard stood up from the bench, straightened his Army uniform, and studied the crowd of people making their way through Grand Central Station. He looked for the girl whose heart he knew, but whose face he didn’t, the girl with the rose.
His interest in her had begun thirteen months before in a Florida library. Taking a book off the shelf he found himself intrigued, not with the words of the book, but with the notes penciled in the margin. The soft handwriting reflected a thoughtful soul and insightful mind. In the front of the book, he discovered the previous owner’s name, Miss Hollis Maynell.
With time and effort he located her address. She lived in New York City. He wrote her a letter introducing himself and inviting her to correspond. The next day he was shipped overseas for service in World War II. During the next year and one month the two grew to know each other through the mail. Each letter was a seed falling on a fertile heart. A romance was budding.
Blanchard requested a photograph, but she refused. She felt that if he really cared, it wouldn’t matter what she looked like.
When the day finally came for him to return from Europe, they scheduled their first meeting-7:00 p.m. at the Grand Central Station in New York. “You’ll recognize me,” she wrote, “by the red rose I’ll be wearing on my lapel.”
I’ll let Mr. Blanchard tell you what happened:
A young woman was coming toward me, her figure long and slim. Her blonde hair lay back in curls from her delicate ears; her eyes were blue as flowers. Her lips and chin had a gentle firmness, and in her pale green suit she was like springtime come alive. I started toward her, entirely forgetting to notice that she was not wearing a rose. As I moved, a small, provocative smile curved her lips. “Going my way, sailor?” she murmured.
Almost uncontrollably I made one step closer to her, and then I saw Hollis Maynell.
She was standing almost directly behind the girl. A woman well past 40, she had graying hair tucked under a worn hat. She was more than plump, her thick-ankled feet thrust into low-heeled shoes. The girl in the green suit was walking quickly away. I felt as though I was split in two, so keen was my desire to follow her, and yet so deep was my longing for the woman whose spirit had truly companioned me and upheld my own.
And there she stood. Her pale, plump face was gentle and sensible, her gray eyes had a warm and kindly twinkle. I did not hesitate. My finger gripped the small worn blue leather copy of the book that was to identify me to her. This would not be love, but it would be something precious, something perhaps even better than love, a friendship for which I had been and must ever be grateful.
I squared my shoulders and saluted and held out the book to the woman, e...
Our opinion of people depends less upon what we see in them than upon what they make us see in ourselves.
Sarah Grand.
Ron Otto writes, “During my scuba diving training, I asked what should be done if we see a shark. Should we try to stab it with our diving knife? The instructor said, "Don’t do that! You’ll only make him mad." Then with a smile he went on, "If you see a shark coming after you, take out your knife, and then cut your buddy and swim like crazy."
My wife, Darcy; and I were on a date, sitting in the corner of the restaurant waiting for our food. I took out my pen and started to mark lines on a paper napkin. When I was done, I had made an acceptable likeness of a casket. I slid it across the table.
Darcy peeked at it, then rolled her eyes. She knew I hadn’t been taking this milestone (the big forty) in my life as well as I should. But this time she had read my thinking wrong.
"How many people does it take to carry one of these?" She looked at me with whimsical eyes that said, "What is he up to now? But she gave the right answer. "Six."
"Darcy; if I died tomorrow, who would you ask to carry my casket?’ I had plenty of friends who I believed would be willing to help with this task, assuming there was nothing more pressing in their appointment book. But I didn’t want those types of people carrying me to my grave. I wanted People who would drop whatever they were doing in order to drop me. Our conversation reminded me I had some work to do in the area of committed friends.
I realize this could sound morbid, but I decided I needed to start grooming my pallbearers. Certainly not because I planned on needing them anytime soon. But they represent the people who have been with you through the best and the worst of times. It was obvious to me that if I wanted to have rich friendships I would have to be a loyal friend.
Grooming Your Pallbearers
Tim Kimmel - President of Generation Ministries
Listen to Adrian Rogers:
“It is better to be divided by truth than to be united in error. It is better to speak the truth that hurts and then heals, than falsehood that comforts and then kills. It is not love and it is not friendship if we fail to declare the whole counsel of God. It is better to be hated for telling the truth than to be loved for telling a lie. It is impossible to find anyone in the Bible who was a power for God who did not have enemies and was not hated. It’s better to stand alone with ...
"Every house where love abides And friendship is a guest, Is surely home, and home, sweet home; For there the heart can rest."
A group of friends went deer hunting and paired off in twos for the day. That night one of the hunters returned alone, staggering under an eight-point buck.
"Where’s Harry?" he was asked.
"Harry had a stroke of some kind. He’s a couple of miles back up the trail."
"You left Harry laying there, and carried the deer back?"
"Well," said the hunter, "I figured no one was going to steal Harry."
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