Tell Those Who Don't Know

The story is told of a Christian college where the preacher students took turns speaking in chapel every Thursday. There was one freshman preacher student, though, who had avoided the dreaded task of preaching at chapel long enough that it came to the attention of the Chapel Master. The following conversation ensued:

"I'm scheduling you to preach at chapel next Thursday."

"Oh, please. I'll do anything. I'll write a paper, do extra homework assignments, even clean the toilets. Just please don't make me speak in public yet."

"You are not getting out of this, and there will be no excuses."

Thursday rolled around and, with desperately quaking knees, the young student stood up to preach, and asked, "Do you know what I'm going to say?" Everyone shook their heads no. "Neither do I. Go in peace."

The Chapel Master was really angry. "That is not acceptable. You are right back on the schedule for next Thursday, and this time you will preach, and it will be an example of diligent preparation, and there will be no excuses."

Thursday rolled around and, with yet more quaking, the young man stood up to preach and asked, "Do you know what I'm going to say?" Everybody nodded their heads yes. "Good. Go in peace."

The Chapel Master was absolutely outraged. "There will be no more of these shenanigans. You will preach the word of God next Thursday. You will not fail, or you will be removed from school immediately."

Thursday rolled around and, barely able to stand, the student got up to preach and asked, "Do you know what I'm going to say?"

Some shook their heads no; others nodded their heads yes.

"Good. Those who know, please tell those who don't. Go in peace."

Not a bad summary of the Great Commission and our task of evangelism. Those who know ought to tell those who don't.

"And Jesus came and spoke to them, saying, 'All authority has been given to Me in heaven and on earth. Go therefore and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all things that I have commanded you; and lo, I am with you always, even to the end of the age.' " (Matthew 28:18-20).

If you are among those who know about the gospel, share it today with someone who doesn't.

Learning Life's Lesson

In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in the room. There were no distinguishing features except the one wall covered with small index cards files. They were like the ones in libraries that list titles by author or subject in alphabetical order. But these files, which stretched from floor to ceiling and seemingly endlessly in either direction, had very different readings.

As I drew near the wall of files, the first to catch my attention was one that read "Girls I Have Liked." I opened it and began flipping through the cards. I quickly shut it, shocked to realize that I recognized the names written on each one. 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 Have 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'd 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 and was signed with my own 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 the 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 and burn the cards. But as I took it at one end and began pounding it on the floor, I couldn't 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 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 the 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 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 opening 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 to me 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.

"I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me." Phil. 4:13

"For God so loved the world that He gave His one and only Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish, but have eternal life." John 3:16

Switching roles

Source: www.blognator.com

A man was sick and tired of going to work every day while his wife stayed home.

He wanted her to see what he went through so he prayed:

'Dear Lord:
I go to work every day and put in 8 hours while my wife merely stays at home.
I want her to know what I go through.
So, please allow her body to switch with mine for a day.
Amen!'

God, in his infinite wisdom, granted the man's wish.

The next morning, sure enough, the man awoke as a woman. He arose, cooked breakfast for his mate, awakened the kids, set out their school clothes, fed them breakfast, packed their lunches, drove them to school, came home and picked up the dry cleaning, took it to the cleaners, went grocery shopping, then drove home to put away the groceries, he cleaned the cat's litter box and bathed the dog.

Then, it was already 1.00 PM and he hurried to make the beds, do the laundry, vacuum, dust, sweep and mop the kitchen floor.  Ran to the school to pick up the kids and got into an argument with them on the way home.

Set out milk and cookies, and got the kids organized to do their homework. Then, set up the ironing board and watched TV while he did the ironing. At 4:30 he began peeling potatoes and washing vegetables for salad, breaded the pork chops and snapped fresh beans for supper.

After supper, he cleaned the kitchen, ran the dishwasher, folded laundry, bathed the kids, and put them to bed. At 09 P.M...

He was exhausted and, though his daily chores weren't finished, he went to bed where he was expected to make love, which he managed to get through without complaint.

The next morning, he awoke and immediately knelt by the bed and said:

 
'Lord, I don't know what I was thinking.
I was so wrong to envy my wife's being able to stay home all day.
Please, oh! Oh! Please, let us trade back.
Amen!'

The Lord, in his infinite wisdom, replied:

 
'My son, I feel you have learned your lesson and I will be happy to change things back to the way they were. You'll just have to wait nine months, though. You got pregnant last night.'