Tagged: christian stories
It was a cold winter’s day that Sunday. The parking lot to the church was filling up quickly. I noticed as I got out of my car that fellow church members were whispering among themselves as they walked to the church. As I got closer I saw a man leaned up against the wall outside the church. He was almost laying down as if he was asleep. He had on a long trench coat that was almost in shreds and a hat topped his head, pulled down so you couldn’t see his face. He wore shoes that looked 30 years...
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Now the man to whom I’m going to introduce you was not a scrooge. He was a kind, decent, mostly good man, generous to his family and upright in his dealings with other men. But he just didn’t believe all that incarnation stuff which the churches proclaim at Christmas time. It just didn’t make sense to him, and he was too honest to pretend otherwise. He just couldn’t swallow the Jesus story, about God coming to earth as a man. “I’m truly sorry to distress you,” he told his wife, “but I’m not going with you to church this Christmas...
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eremy was born with a twisted body and a slow mind. At the age of 12 he was still in second grade, seemingly unable to learn. His teacher, Doris Miller, often became exasperated with him. He would squirm in his seat, drool, and make grunting noises. At other times, he spoke clearly and distinctly, as if a spot of light had penetrated the darkness of his brain. Most of the time, however, Jeremy just irritated his teacher. One day she called his parents and asked them to come in for a consultation. As the Forresters entered the empty classroom, Doris...
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The middle-aged man parked his car at the top of the cliff, overlooking the Pacific Ocean. The early Spring sun was hanging low on the horizon, a warm silver-yellow. Lemony foam purled atop the incoming tide, as waves broke gently on the beach. Slipping his hands into the pockets of his jacket, Jeremy walked over to the ledge. A cold breeze, heavy with a salty mist, brushed over and around him, ran phantom fingers through his hair, as he descended the steep sand and wood stairs to the beckoning beach. There was a lovely tide pool circled with boulders and...
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Sometimes we are the harshest with the people around us. This poem puts it into perspective. I ran into a stranger as he passed by, “Oh excuse me please” was my reply. He said, “Please excuse me too; I wasn’t watching for you.” We were very polite, this stranger and I. We went on our way and we said good-bye. But at home a different story is told, How we treat our loved ones, young and old. Later that day, cooking the evening meal, My son stood beside me very still. When I turned, I nearly knocked him down. “Move...
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