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The devout priest was caught in a flood one day, and he climbed onto the roof of his Vicarage and as the water started lapping up over the roof he prayed “Lord, deliver me from this flood”.
The water continued to rise and a policeman in a rowing boat passed: “Can I help you Vicar?” “No thanks, the Lord will deliver me!”
A little while later, the water is even higher, and the Vicar is up to his waist, even standing on his roof. A lifeboat cruises past, and the coxwain shouts out “Can I help you, Vicar?” “No Thanks” was his reply “The Lord will deliver me – I’ve prayed for it”
After another few minutes, the water has risen so much that only the Vicar’s head is peeping out from above the water and a helicopter flies over. The pilot leans out and calls “Can I help you Vicar?” “No thanks, the Lord will deliver me!”
At which point, the water rises over the Vicar’s head and he drowns.
When the Vicar arrives at the gates of heaven and faces St Peter he is furious: “I’ve been a most serious and devout priest all my life, devoted to prayer and good works – why didn’t God answer my prayers. “Oh,” says Peter “That ‘s strange: we sent two boats and a helicopter after you…”
Scott Weber
Kurt Cobain died about 8 years ago. I remember the day I picked up the newspaper and read about it. He was the founder and lead singer of the rock group "Nirvana." His death was a suicide. He took a shotgun, pointed it to his head, and killed himself. The newspaper was filled with the words of fans and commentators in disbelief saying "Why? It makes no sense." "He had it all . . . a great career, a huge following, plenty of money, a wife and a 19 month old daughter . . . Why?" To most people it made no sense. But I remember sitting at my desk thinking. "Yes it does. It makes sense. Kurt Cobain was living out his beliefs to their logical extreme." You see, Kurt Cobain was a self professed humanist and nihilist. In other words, he believed their was no God and that there was no meaning or purpose to life. His music (poetry) could not be more clear on this matter.
Kurt Cobain’s music was grunge rock. He pioneered this type of music. The alternative rock style of today has evolved from grunge rock. Kurt had a disdain for anything mainstream or acceptable to society. He was a child of divorce. At the age of eight he began to be shifted from home to home, sometimes even being homeless. He was very vocal about his bitterness from that experience. He developed his belief that life was basically rotten and meaningless.
His music often spoke of his anger and disillusionment. One of his most famous songs was called "Nevermind." Its recurring line was "Oh well, whatever, nevermind." Another song he wrote never got released. It was too objectionable to the label company, but Kurt liked it. It was called, "I Hate Myself, And I Want To Die." In another song called "Smells Like Teen Spirit," a well known line says, "I feel stupid and contagious, here we are, now entertain us." The video of that song was voted best video of the decade of the 90’s.
Friends of Cobain say he lived up to his music. He often acted without reason. He was constantly on an emotional roller coaster. But his dips into despair got deeper and deeper. Once, a member of his road crew asked him why he was moping around so much. Cobain replied, "I’m awake, aren’t I?" Kurt Cobain was a young man fueled by nihilism. He had passion, but for nothing. He had a void in his heart that nothing he pursued could fill, and he believed that nothing could or ever would. He had no purpose, no meaning, and he simply lived out his belief in his worldview to its logical conclusion.
He reminds me of another man. Solomon. Solomon wrote in Ecclesiastes of pursuing all of the things the world has to offer. He also wrote of the despair they brought him. They offered no meaning. Solomon, however, concluded differently than Kurt Cobain. He concluded that purpose and meaning were found in the living God. Only be knowing and serving Him could you rise above the level of despair. And there is even better news than that. Now, God has declared through His Son how much He loves us, and that He wants to spend eternity with us.
With his life in disarray, Steven Lavaggi sat on his bedroom’s wooden floor, and began searching his Bible for answers. His wife had just left him to marry a writer for The Rolling Stone Magazine. Ten days later, Steven discovered his son was stricken with Juvenile Diabetes. As if coping with the personal crisis wasn’t enough, Lavaggi also lost his graphic art business.
Unemployed, abandoned, and worrying about his son, Lavaggi turned to God’s Word. As Steven read, he skipped over the black letters, only wanting to read the words of Jesus. The Risen Christ emerged from the pages. Lavaggi gave his life to Jesus.
As a new Christian, he clung to Psalms 91:11: "For he shall give his angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy ways." Out of his brokenness, came a passion to create and message of hope. He left the lucrative world of graphic art to become a fine artist.
Since Steven’s passion is to minister through fine art, he moved to California, to influence the people who influence the world--Hollywood.
He is doing just that. The response to his work is overwhelming. Inspired by the Psalmist’s words he painted a 4’ X 5’ angel. When a friend encouraged him to make the image three dimensional, he collaborated with a sculptor, and together they cast the angel.
While speaking to a crowd of thirty-five hundred natives in Soweto, South Africa, Lavaggi held a 20" sculpture of a black angel above his head. When he did, the crowd erupted with enthusiasm. A man on the stage told him that just a few days before, a preacher had said, "One of the things we need is for international artists to express the love of God through art, perhaps even painting angels in black." When Lavaggi heard this, he grabbed a 20" white angel, held it above his head and said, "these angels were created to be like brothers and sisters, even as we are supposed to be." Later, as he reflected on the day, he decided to call the sculptures, "The Angels of Reconciliation."
His creation graces the cover of the Winter 2000 GROWING CHURCHES magazine and two 20" bronze statues are in the city of Lake Village, Arkansas symbolizing the hope of racial reconciliation in the deep South.
Steven’s message would not exist without his passion! His message is easy to see-it is in the light, but remember, his passion was born in the dark, on a wooden floor while he grieved the loss of his wife, his job and his son’s health. Through the struggle, he gained a passion, and today, he is changing the world.
A man in a hot air balloon realized he was lost. He reduced altitude and spotted a woman below. He descended a bit more and shouted, "Excuse me, can you help me? I promised a friend I would meet him an hour ago, but I don’t know where I am." The woman below replied, "You’re in a hot air balloon hovering approximately 30 feet above the ground. You’re between 40 and 41 degrees north latitude and between 59 and 60 degrees west longitude."
"You must be an engineer," said the balloonist.
"I am," replied the woman, "How did you know?"
"Well," answered the balloonist, "everything you told me is, technically correct, but I’ve no idea what to make of your information, and the fact is I’m still lost. Frankly, you’ve not been much help at all. If anything, you’ve delayed my trip."
The woman below responded, "You must be in Management."
"I am," replied the balloonist, "but how did you know?"
"Well," said the woman, "you don’t know where you are or where you’re going. You have risen to where you are due to a large quantity of hot air. You made a promise, which you’ve no idea how to keep, and you exp...
“Secret of the Fifth Man!” Mark 2:1-5 Key verse(s) 3:“Some men came, bringing to him a paralytic, carried by four of them.”
Five people passed the beggar but only one stopped to help. The will it seems to get somewhere on time, a preoccupation with self, easily thwarted a fragile affection that stirred in each heart but bloomed in only one. Why did the fifth man stop? Why did he stop, discover, propose and act? What did the others miss that this man saw?
Tennessee Williams tells a story of someone who forgot – the story of Jacob Brodzky, a shy Russian Jew whose father owned a bookstore. The older Brodzky wanted his son to go to college. The boy, on the other hand, desired nothing but to marry Lila, his childhood sweetheart – a French girl as effusive, vital, and ambitious as he was contemplative and retiring. A couple of months after young Brodzky went to college, his father fell ill and died. The son returned home, buried his father, and married his love. Then the couple moved into the apartment above the bookstore, and Brodzky took over its management. The life of books fit him perfectly, but it cramped her. She wanted more adventure – and she found it, she thought, when she met an agent who praised her beautiful singing voice and enticed her to tour Europe with a vaudeville company. Brodzky was devastated. At their parting, he reached into his pocket and handed her the key to the front door of the bookstore.
“You had better keep this,” he told her, “because you will want it some day. Your love is not so much less than mine that you can get away from it. You will come back sometime, and I will be waiting.” She kissed him and left. To escape the pain he felt, Brodzky withdrew deep into his bookstore and took to reading as someone else might have taken to drink. He spoke little, did little, and could most times be found at the large desk near the rear of the shop, immersed in his books while he waited for his love to return.
Nearly 15 years after they parted, at Christmastime, she did return. But when Brodzky rose from the reading desk that had been his place of escape for all that time, he did not take the love of his life for more than an ordinary customer. “Do you want a book?” he asked. That he didn’t recognize her startled her. But she gained possession of herself and replied, “I want a book, but I’ve forgotten the name of it.” Then she told him a story of childhood sweethearts. A story of a newly married couple who lived in an apartment above a bookstore. A story of a young, ambitious wife who left to seek a career, who enjoyed great success but could never relinquish the key her husband gave her when they parted. She told him the story she thought would bring him to himself.
But his face showed no recognition. Gradually she realized that he had lost touch with his heart’s desire, that he no longer knew the purpose of his waiting and grieving, that now all he remembered was the waiting and grieving itself. “You remember it; you must remember it – the story of Lila and Jacob?”
After a long, bewildered pause, he said, “There is something familiar about the story, I think I have read it somewhere. It comes to me that it is something by Tolstoi.” Dropping the key, she fled the shop. And Brodzky returned to his desk, to his reading, unaware that the love he waited for had come and gone. (Signs of the Times, June, 1993, p. 11.)
When we focus on ourselves continually we often fail to see what is happening around us. We feel affection, friendships, even erotic love. But, when it comes to acting on these things they are, as C. S. Lewis put it, nothing but flowers surrounded by weeds unless there comes a gentle gardener to till the weeds and primp the garden. So, what caused that fifth man to act when four others did not? Why did Brodzky fail to grasp the one opportunity of love he thought he had always lived for? One man’s passion was compelling. The other’s was not. The former in affection reached out beyond sympathy. He did not miss love when he found it because the “gentle gardener,” Christ, had cultivated the love in his heart giving it beauty, purpose and mission. Brodzky and the four who did not stop missed an opportunity to manifest their love because they were preoccupied with the most important thing in life, themselves. The flowers of affection and friendship were choked by the weeds of self-interest. Christian love, charity as it was once called, takes the natural loves God puts in all men’s hearts and tend them, giving them purpose and, most of all, action. Charity doesn’t stop at sympathy. It carried the lame man to Christ where sympathy could only stand and watch. This is the secret of the fifth man.
When someone becomes really great at what they do, it almost always because they spent years dedicating themselves to it. Pete Rose didn’t just wake up one day as a great ball player, he dedicated his life to being a great ball player. Tori Murden didn’t just hop into a boat one day out of the blue and row across the ocean – it took her three tries before she made and countless hours of preparation and training.
Back in the late eighties Meryl Streep stared in a movie called Ironweed. She played a ragged derilect that died in a cheap motel room. For more than half an hour before the scene she hugged a bag of ice cubes in an agonizing attempt to discover what it was like to be a corpse. When the cameras came on she just laid there as Jack Nicholson cried and shook her limp body. The just laid there for take after take and in between take too. One of the crew members got scared and went the director and said, What’s going on? She’s not breathing!” When the director looked at her he saw no signs of life, but he let the camera keep rolling. After the scene was done and cameras were off she still didn’t move. It took ten minutes for her to come out of the state she had sunk herself into. The director was amazed and said, “Now that’s acting!! That is an actress!” She was willing to go the extra mile and do the unthinkable in order to be a great actress. I wish more Christians had that level of zeal when it comes to their walk with the Lord.
In Roman twelve Paul exhorts us to be living sacrifices to God – lay all that we are on the alter. The only problem with living sacrifices is that they keep crawling off the alter. We must stay on the alter, we must value Christ above all else if we are to continue to grow as Christians.
One day some manure came out from a prize bull - landing right in the middle of the walkway. It thought to itself, “I’m going to rise above the rest of this dung. I’m not going to live in the gutter - I’m going to be great and famous. That same day, a farmer’s hat fell off on top of the manure. The manure felt pretty good about itself. It said, “look at me, look at me everyone.” Then the flies started buzzing around him, and he said, “see, I’m starting to become famous.” This lasted for about one day, and excitedly, the manure saw the farmers son come walking toward him. He thought, “this is my big chance at fame.” He made sure to omit his best odor and look his best. Very gently the farmer’s son took his hat off of him, looked at him and said, “you stink!” He then proceeded to scoop the manure up and put him in the spreader with the rest of the manure. The manure then realized, no matter how he dressed himself up, he still stunk.
Apply that to yourself. No matter how good you think you are, God says you still stink. You still are not holy. It debunks the common myth today that “normal people go to heaven.”
B. Tennessee Williams tells a story of someone who forgot- the story of Jacob Brodzky, a shy Russian Jew whose father owned a bookstore. The older Brodzky wanted his son to go to college. The boy, on the other hand, desired nothing but to marry Lila, his childhood sweetheart- a French girl who was very ambitious and outgoing as he was laid back and contemplative. A couple of months after young Brodzky went to college, his father fell ill and died. The son returned home, buried his father, and married Lila. Then the couple moved into the apartment above the bookstore, and Brodzky took over its management. The life of books fit him perfectly, but it cramped her. She wanted more adventure- and she found it, she thought, when she met an agent who praised her beautiful singing voice and enticed her to tour Europe with a vaudeville company. Brodzky was devastated. At their parting, he reached into his pocket and handed her the key to the front door of the bookstore. "You had better keep this," he told her, "because you will want it some day. Your love is not that much less than mine that you can get away from it. You will come back sometime, and I will be waiting." She kissed him and left. To escape the pain he felt, Brodzky withdrew deep into his bookstore and took to reading as someone else might have taken to drink. He spoke little, did little, and could most times be found at the large desk near the rear of the shop, immersed in his books while he waited for his love to return. Nearly 15 years after they parted, at Christmastime, she did return. But when Brodzky rose from the reading desk, he took the love of his life as an ordinary customer. "Do you want a book?" he asked. That he didn’t recognize her startled her. But she gained possession of herself and replied, "I want a book, but I’ve forgotten the name of it." Then she told him a story of childhood sweethearts. A story of a newly married couple who lived in an apartment above a bookstore. A story of a young, ambitious wife who left to seek a career, which enjoyed great success but could never relinquish the key, her husband gave her when they parted. She told him the story she thought would bring him to himself. But his face showed no recognition. Gradually she realized that he had lost touch with his heart’s desire, that he no longer knew ...
Benjamin Franklin learned that plaster sown in the fields would make things grow. He told his neighbors, but they did not believe him and they argued with him trying to prove that plaster could be of no use at all to grass or grain.
After a little while he allowed the matter to drop and said no more about it. But he went into the field early the next spring and sowed some grain. Close by the path, where men would walk, he traced some letters with his finger and put plaster into them and then sowed his seed in the field.
After a week or two the seed sprang up. His neighbors, as they passed that way, were very much surprised to see, in brighter green than all the rest of the field, the writing in large letters, "This has been plastered." Benjamin Franklin did not need to argue with his neighbors any more about the benefit of plaster for the fields. For as the season went on and the grain grew, these bright green letters just rose up above all the rest until they were a kind of relief-plate in the field -- "This has been plastered."
Mark Hensley
The citizens of Feldkirch, Austria, didn’t know what to do. Napoleon’s massive army was preparing to attack. Soldiers had been spotted on the heights above the little town, which was situated on the Austrian border. A council of citizens was hastily summoned to decide whether they should try to defend themselves or display the white flag of surrender. It happened to be Easter Sunday, and the people had gathered in the local church.
The pastor rose and said, "Friends, we have been counting on our own strength, and apparently that has failed. As this is the day of our Lord’s resurrection, let us just ring the bells, have our services as usual, and leave the matter in His hands. We know only our weakness, and not the power of God to defend us." The council accepted his plan and the church bells rang. The enemy, hearing the bells, concluded that the Austrian army had arrived during the night to defend the town. Before the service ended, the enemy broke camp and left. Source Unknown
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