March 22, 2010
Note: During the last month we attempted to contact all former subscribers from last spring. In doing so, we received many responses from you stating that you were receiving my notes sent to you via AOL, but not actual issues of "Christian Voices". To solve that problem, we ask all of you to place my address - ChristianVoices@att.net - in your address book. That should help prevent your incoming email and issues of "Christian Voices" from being sent directly to your "spam" or "trash" files. Thanks very much!!! ........Bob
HUMOR
After having dug to a depth of 10 feet last year, New York scientists found traces of copper wire dating back 100 years and came to the conclusion that their ancestors already had a telephone network more than 100 years ago.
Not to be outdone by the New Yorkers, in the weeks that followed, a California archaeologist dug to a depth of 20 feet, and shortly after, a story in the LA Times read: "California archaeologists, finding traces of 200 year old copper wire, have concluded that their ancestors already had an advanced high-tech communications network a hundred years earlier than the New Yorkers."
One week later, The Coon Valley Journal, a local newspaper in Wisconsin, reported the following: After digging as deep as 30 feet in his pasture near Coon Valley, Wis., Ole Olson, a self-taught archaeologist, reported that he found absolutely nothing. Ole has therefore concluded that 300 years ago, Wisconsin had already gone wireless.
.....Mikey's Funnies (http://www.mikeysFunnies.com) by way of "Christian Voices" (www.ChristianVoicesWorldwide.net)
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THOUGHT PROVOKING – INSPIRATIONAL
The Presence of God
I’ve felt the true presence of God a few times in my life, so real it seemed that I might reach out and touch Him. Each of those events has been etched solidly into my memory. It’s safe there and I call upon it for renewal of my spirit whenever needed, my own mini-miracle.
One summer, my husband and I had the good fortune to travel by river cruiser from Amsterdam to Vienna. The trip afforded us many pleasures as we traversed the Rhine, Main, and Danube rivers. Cathedrals and castles, cobblestones and cafes--we savored them all on the land excursions planned for us each day.
Early one Sunday morning, our ship docked at the small town of Wertheim, Germany. Here, we were told by our program director, we would have the opportunity to watch a glass blowing demonstration and then visit the retail shop that Hans, the Glass Blower, operated with his family.
“I’m so sorry that there are no other shops open since it is Sunday, but you can walk through the town and enjoy the buildings.” Renata told us as she pointed out a Protestant church. “There is a service here at 9:30 this morning, but it will be conducted in German."
Ken and I attend church regularly in our home community, but, since this service would be in German, we elected to attend the glass blowing demonstration. How much can you get out of a service you cannot understand?
Hans entertained us royally with his demonstration and lecture about his art. When we finished admiring the fragile merchandise in his shop, Ken and I strolled through this quaint little town situated alongside the river. The cobblestone streets and the half-timbered houses reminded us of fairy tale books we'd read as children. We admired the architecture of the buildings and stopped to gaze in the shop windows, regretting that none were open for business on Sunday.
“It's a good thing this art gallery isn’t open,” Ken said. “If it was, I'd buy that picture.” Lucky for me, the door was locked, and we had to move on.
Turning from the art gallery window, we found ourselves next to the church Renata had pointed out earlier. “Let’s go take a look,” Ken said. “The service is over by now.”
We climbed a flight of stone stairs and stepped into the cool interior of the church. No cathedral this one but truly lovely. An ornate altar with splashes of gold dominated the front. Twenty to thirty people clustered near the front pews, talking softly and milling around. They began to arrange themselves with backs to the altar and facing the mostly empty pews. Their chatter slowed, then ceased as they gazed steadily at a man who faced them.
It dawned on me that this was a choir of some sort getting ready to practice. Ken and I slid into one of the back pews, prepared to listen. We were treated to some of the most beautiful music I have ever been privileged to hear. The choir sang three songs, all in German. I could not understand one word, but there was no doubt that they were worshipping God with their music, singing from their hearts. It was as if we were listening to the voices of the angels. Joy and adoration radiated in the faces of the choir members as they sang in the near-empty church.
Ken and I moved a little closer together, our shoulders touching. The light from the windows shone on the altar giving the gold leaf a vibrant glow. The choir voices appeared to surround us; melody and harmony blended to perfection. Soft, but clear as crystal, the music flowed from front, back and sides, even though the choir sang directly in front of us. As the resplendent voices rose and fell with the melody, I felt the presence of God so strongly that it seemed as if there was nothing else in the world but this church, this choir, and the two of us.
I could not have spoken a word at that point as emotion rose high within me. My eyes brimmed with unshed tears. One thought surfaced--that I did not want this to ever end. But end it did. The last notes of the final song floated softly toward us and stopped. The people in the choir moved to the pews, picked up their coats and sweaters, and came down the aisle chatting in German and smiling as they passed us. They were once again ordinary humans, not the angels who raised their voices to the heavens.
We sat there a bit longer and finally rose to follow them outside. The choir members clustered at the top of the steps posing for a picture. One of the men stood below on the cobblestone street, adjusting his camera, and we slipped by him to continue our tour of Wertheim. Before we reached the corner, I turned for a last look at the German singers who had given us a taste of spirituality and perhaps a glimpse of Heaven on a quiet Sunday morning.
Minutes passed before either of us could speak, and, when we compared our feelings, we realized we had experienced something very, very special. No, we had not attended the church service that morning, but we found something never to be forgotten. It was one of those rare times when God makes his presence known giving us His love and assurance that He is always with us. What a wonderful way to have it revealed to us—through the voices of this gifted choir as they practiced, singing a tribute to God.
When life’s trials and tribulations seem to be closing in on me, I close my eyes and bring the memory of that Sunday morning back once more. I see the golden glow inside the church, hear the angelic voices of the choir, and feel the presence of God. A warm sense of peace envelops me, and I'm ready to meet the rest of my day.
.....Nancy Julien Kopp (kopp@networksplus.net) (www.writergrannysworld.blogspot.com) by way of "Christian Voices" (www.ChristianVoicesWorldwide.net) Nancy also publishes in anthlogies, newspapers and magazines, and lives in Manhattan, KS with her retired husband.
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(Note: I first read this story many years ago and it touched me. Someone sent it to me again recently and it touched me again. May it touch you also. ..........Bob)
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Every Sunday afternoon, after the morning service at the church, the Pastor and his eleven year old son would go out into their town and hand out Gospel Tracts. This particular Sunday afternoon, as it came time for the Pastor and his son to go to the streets with their tracts, it was very cold outside, as well as pouring rain. The boy bundled up in his warmest and driest clothes and said, 'OK, dad, I'm ready.' His Pastor dad asked, 'Ready for what?' 'Dad, it's time we gather our tracts together and go out.' Dad responds, 'Son, it's very cold outside and it's pouring rain.' The boy gives his dad a surprised look, asking, 'But Dad, aren't people still going to Hell, even though it's raining?' Dad answers, 'Son, I am not going out in this weather.' Despondently, the boy asks, 'Dad, can I go? Please?' His father hesitated for a moment then said, 'Son, you can go. Here are the tracts, be careful son..' 'Thanks Dad!' And with that, he was off and out into the rain.. This eleven year old boy walked the streets of the town going door to door and handing everybody he met in the street a Gospel Tract . After two hours of walking in the rain, he was soaking, bone-chilled wet and down to his VERY LAST TRACT. He stopped on a corner and looked for someone to hand a tract to, but the streets were totally deserted. Then he turned toward the first home he saw and started up the sidewalk to the front door and rang the door bell. He rang the bell, but nobody answered. He rang it again and again, but still no one answered. He waited but still no answer. Finally, this eleven year old trooper turned to leave, but something stopped him. Again, he turned to the door and rang the bell and knocked loudly on the door with his fist. He waited, something holding him there on the front porch! He rang again and this time the door slowly opened. Standing in the doorway was a very sad-looking elderly lady. She softly asked, 'What can I do for you, son?' With radiant eyes and a smile that lit up her world, this little boy said, 'Ma'am, I'm sorry if I disturbed you, but I just want to tell you that * JESUS REALLY DOES LOVE YOU * and I came to give you my very last Gospel Tract which will tell you all about JESUS and His great LOVE.' With that, he handed her his last tract and turned to leave. She called to him as he departed. 'Thank you, son! And God Bless You!' Well, the following Sunday morning in church Pastor Dad was in the pulpit. As the service began, he asked, 'Does anybody have testimony or want to say anything?' Slowly, in the back row of the church, an elderly lady stood to her feet. As she began to speak, a look of glorious radiance came from her face, 'No one in this church knows me. I've never been here before. You see, before last Sunday I was not a Christian. My husband passed on some time ago, leaving me totally alone in this world. Last Sunday, being a particularly cold and rainy day, it was even more so in my heart that I came to the end of the line where I no longer had any hope or will to live. So I took a rope and a chair and ascended the stairway into the attic of my home. I fastened the rope securely to a rafter in the roof, then stood on the chair and fastened the other end of the rope around my neck. Standing on that chair, so lonely and broken-hearted I was about to leap off, when suddenly the loud ringing of my doorbell downstairs startled me. I thought, 'I'll wait a minute, and whoever it is will go away.' I waited and waited, but the ringing doorbell seemed to get louder and more insistent, and then the person ringing also started knocking loudly... I thought to myself again, 'Who on earth could this be? Nobody ever rings my bell or comes to see me.' I loosened the rope from my neck and started for the front door, all the while the bell rang louder and louder. When I opened the door and looked I could hardly believe my eyes, for there on my front porch was the most radiant and angelic little boy I had ever seen in my life. His SMILE, oh, I could never describe it to you! The words that came from his mouth caused my heart that had long been dead, TO LEAP TO LIFE as he exclaimed with a cherub-like voice, 'Ma'am, I just came to tell you that JESUS REALLY DOES LOVE YOU .' Then he gave me this Gospel Tract that I now hold in my hand.. As the little angel disappeared back out into the cold and rain, I closed my door and read slowly every word of this Gospel Tract. Then I went up to my attic to get my rope and chair. I wouldn't be needing them anymore. You see-- -I am now a Happy Child of the KING. Since the address of your church was on the back of this Gospel Tract, I have come here to personally say THANK YOU to God's little angel who came just in the nick of time and by so doing, spared my soul from an eternity in hell..' There was not a dry eye in the church. And as shouts of praise and honor to THE KING resounded off the very rafters of the building, Pastor Dad descended from the pulpit to the front pew where the little angel was seated.... He took his son in his arms and sobbed uncontrollably. Probably no church has had a more glorious moment, and probably this universe has never seen a Papa that was more filled with love & honor for his son.... Except for One.
<>< <>< <>< <>< <>< <>< <>< <>< <>< <>< <>< Remember, God's message CAN make the difference in the life of someone close to you. Matthew 10:32 says: 'Whoever acknowledges Me before men, I will acknowledge him before My Father in heaven. But whoever disowns Me before men, I will disown him before My .Father in heaven' .
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