Classic Inspirational Stories for Christians
[Christian Inspiration] [ Contents ]
Boats
Old Mrs. Watkins awoke one spring morning to find that the river had flooded the entire first floor of her house. Looking out of her window, she saw that the water was still rising.
Two men passing by on a rowboat shouted up an invitation to row to safety with them. "No, thank you," Mrs. Watkins replied. "The Lord will provide." The men shrugged and rowed on.
By evening, the water level forced Mrs. Watkins to climb on top of the roof for safety. She was spotted by a man in a motorboat, who offered to pick her up. "Don't trouble yourself," she told him. "The Lord will provide."
Pretty soon, Mrs. Watkins had to seek refuge atop the chimney. When a Red Cross cutter came by on patrol, she waved it on, shouting, "The Lord will provide." So the boat left, the water rose, and the old woman drowned.
Dripping wet and thoroughly annoyed, she came through the pearly gates and demanded to speak to God. "What happened?" she cried. "For cryin' out loud, lady," God said. "I sent three boats."
Author Unknown
[Christian Inspiration ] [ Contents ]
The Cake
A little boy is telling his Grandma how "everything" is going wrong...school, family problems, severe health problems, etc. Meanwhile, Grandma is baking a cake. She asks the child if he would like a snack, which of course he does.
"Here. Have some cooking oil."
"Yuck," says the boy.
"How about a couple of raw eggs?"
"Gross, Grandma."
"Would you like some flour then? Or maybe baking soda?"
"Grandma, those are all yucky!"
To which the Grandma replies: "Yes, all those things seem bad all by themselves. But when they are put together in the right way, they make a wonderfully delicious cake!
" God works the same way. Many times we wonder why he would let us go
through such bad and difficult times, but, God knows that, when He puts these
things all in His order, they always work for good! We just have to trust Him
and, eventually they will all make something wonderful!"
Author unknown
[Christian Inspiration ] [ Contents ]
The Devoted Son
Years ago, there was a very wealthy man who, with his devoted young son, shared a passion for art collecting. Together they traveled around the world, adding only the finest art treasures to their collection. Priceless works by Picasso, Van Gogh, Monet, and many others adorned the walls of their family estate. The widowed elderly man looked on with satisfaction as his only child became an experienced art collector. The son's trained eye and sharp business mind caused his father to beam with pride as they dealt with art collectors around the world.
As winter approached, war engulfed their nation, and the young man left to serve his country. After only a few short weeks, the elderly man received a telegram that his beloved son was missing in action. The art collector anxiously awaited more news, fearing he would never see his
son again. Within days his fears were confirmed. The young man had died while rushing a fellow soldier to a medic. Distraught and lonely, the old man faced the upcoming Christmas holidays with anguish and sadness. The joy of the season-a season that he and his son had so looked forward to in the past-would visit his house no longer. On Christmas morning, a knock on the door awakened the depressed old man. As he walked to the door, the masterpieces of art on the walls only reminded him that his son was not coming home. He opened the door and was greeted by a soldier with a large package in his hand.
The soldier introduced himself to the old man by saying, "I was a friend of your son. I was the one he was rescuing when he died. May I come in for a few moments? I have something to show you." As the two began to talk, the soldier told of how the man's son had told every one of his-and his father's-love of fine art work. "I'm also an artist," said the soldier, "and I want to give you this." As the old man began to unwrap the package, paper gave way to reveal a portrait of the man's son. Though the world would never consider it a work of genius, the painting featured the young man's face in striking detail.
Overcome with emotion, the old man thanked the soldier, promising to hang the portrait above the fireplace. A few hours later, after the soldier had departed, the old man set about his task. True to his word, the painting went above the fireplace, pushing aside thousands of dollars worth of paintings. And then the old man sat in his chair and spent Christmas gazing at the gift he had been given.During the days and weeks that followed, the man learned that his son had rescued dozens of wounded soldiers before a bullet stilled his caring heart. As the stories of his son's gallantry continued to reach him, fatherly pride and satisfaction began to ease his grief, as he realized that, although his son was no longer with him, the boy's life would live on because of those he had touched. The painting of his son soon became his most prized possession, far eclipsing any interest in the priceless pieces for which museums around the world clamored. He told his neighbors it was the greatest gift he had ever received. The following spring, the old man became ill and passed away. The art world was in anticipation, since, with the old man's passing, and his only son dead, those paintings would be sold at an auction. According to the will of the old man, all of the art works would be auctioned on Christmas Day, the way he had received his greatest gift.
The day finally arrived and art collectors from around the world gathered to bid on some of the world's most spectacular paintings. Dreams could be fulfilled this day; greatness could be achieved as some could say," I have the greatest collection." The auction began with a painting that was not on any museum list... It was the painting of the old man's son. The auctioneer asked for an opening bid, but the room was silent.
"Who will open the bidding with $100?" he asked. Moments passed as no one spoke.From the back of the room came, "Who cares about that painting? It's just a picture of his son. Let's forget it and get on to the good ones."
More voices echoed in agreement. "No, we have to sell this one-first," replied the auctioneer. "Now who will take the son?"
Finally, a friend of the old man spoke. "Will you take $10 for the painting? That's all I have."Will anyone go higher?" called the auctioneer. After more silence he said, "Going once, going twice... Gone!"
The gavel fell. Cheers filled the room and someone shouted, "Now we can get on with it and bid on these treasures!"
The auctioneer looked at the audience and announced that the auction was over. Stunned disbelief quieted the room. Then someone spoke up and asked, "What do you mean it's over? We didn't come here for a portrait of some old man's son! What about all of the other paintings? There are millions of dollars worth of art work here. We demand an explanation!"
The auctioneer replied, "It's very simple. According to the will of the father, whoever takes the son...gets it all."
Just as the art collectors discovered on that day...The message is still the same...the love of the Father....a Father whose son gave his life for others...And because of that Father's love... Whoever takes the Son gets it all.
Author Unknown
[Christian Inspiration ] [ Contents ]
God
I was in the bookstore buying a gift for a friend. As I stood in line, I saw a young girl approach the counter and whisper something into the sales clerk's ear. The clerk pointed to a shelf in the back corner of the bookstore and the humble-looking girl moved toward that corner. This scene aroused my curiosity. So, after making my purchase, I stuck around to see what the girl was up to. Shortly thereafter, the girl scurried up to the counter, looked around, as if to make sure no one was watching, pulled a small, black book out from under her arm and set it face-down on the counter. The clerk took her money, made change and quickly stuffed the little, black book into a paper bag. But, before he could get the book into the paper bag, I was able to catch a glimpse of the cover. It read, "Holy Bible".
The entire incident seemed strange, but familiar. Then, I turned to leave and found myself looking directly at a magazine rack. The rack openly displayed scores of "men's" magazines. That's when I made the connection.
There was a time, not long ago, when pornographic magazines were wrapped in plain brown wrappers. If a person wanted to see a pornographic movie he would sneak off, "do his thing" and return home. He never mentioned the movie to anyone, save a few close friends who were "into" the same thing. In fact, he would probably turn red with embarrassment if anyone else found out.
Today however, pornography is quickly becoming more available and less stigmatized. There are no plain brown wrappers on the magazines. X-rated movies are available at many video rental stores The internet has brought every brand of pornography into the bedrooms of curious teenagers around the world. In fact, pornography has become so widespread that many of us have become desensitized to it. We rarely think twice when we see sex in an advertisement, on TV, or in print. We use vulgarity openly and without embarrassment. That which was deviance has become normality.
What about the girl in the bookstore? There was a time, not long ago, when our nation's leaders bowed together in prayer. Families prayed together, asking God to guide and protect them. Children were allowed time to pray in school. Religion was discussed openly and without embarrassment. Spirituality was the norm.
Today, however, the mentioning of God or Jesus Christ often causes people to cringe with fear and embarrassment. People often go to church on Saturday or Sunday, but they rarely mention it at the office or in the classroom. Moreover, children are not permitted to pray in school. If people feel the need to pray, I suppose they can sneak off to a church, "do their thing," and return home.
I followed the girl for awhile. I tried to muster up the courage to tell her that I too was a believer. I wanted to tell her to carry her Bible proudly. I longed to call out to her, "Hey! Don't let them wrap your God in a plain brown wrapper."
by L. Dylan Christopher
[Christian Inspiration ] [ Contents ]
The Power of Prayer
A missionary on furlough told this true story while visiting his home church in Michigan...
"While serving at a small field hospital in Africa, every two weeks I traveled by bicycle through the jungle to a nearby city for
supplies. This was a journey of two days and required camping overnight at the halfway point. On one of these journeys, I arrived in the city
where I planned to collect money from a bank, purchase medicine and supplies, and then begin my two-day journey back to the field
hospital. Upon arrival in the city, I observed two men fighting, one of whom
had been seriously injured. I treated him for his injuries and at the same time talked to him about the Lord Jesus Christ. I then
traveled two days, camping overnight, and arrived home without incident. Two weeks later I repeated my journey.
Upon arriving in the city, I was approached by the young man I had treated. He told me that he had known that I carried money and
medicines. He said, "Some friends and I followed you into the jungle, knowing you would camp overnight. We planned to kill you
and take your money and drugs. But just as we were about to move into your camp, we saw that you were surrounded by 26 armed
guards.'" At this I laughed and said that I was certainly all alone out in
that jungle campsite. The young man pressed the point, however, and said, 'No sir, I was not the only person to see the guards.
My five friends also saw them, and we all counted them." It was because of those guards that we were afraid and left you
alone. At this point in the sermon, one of the men in the congregation jumped to his feet and interrupted the missionary and asked if he
could tell him the exact day this happened. The missionary told the congregation the date, and the man who interrupted told him this
story:
"On the night of your incident in Africa, it was morning here and I was preparing to go play golf. I was about to putt when I felt the
urge to pray for you. In fact, the urging of the Lord was so strong, I called men in this church to meet with me here in the sanctuary
to pray for you. Would all of those men who met with me on that day stand up?" The men who had met together to pray that day stood up.
The missionary wasn't concerned with who they were, he was too busy counting how many men he saw. There were 26."
Author Unknown
[Christian Inspiration ] [ Contents ]
Tommy's Story
John Powell, A Professor at Loyola University in Chicago writes about a student in his Theology of Faith class named Tommy:
Some twelve years ago, I stood watching my university students file into the classroom for our first session in the Theology of Faith. That
was the first day I first saw Tommy. My eyes and my mind both blinked. He
was combing his long flaxen hair, which hung six inches below his
shoulders. It was the first time I had ever seen a boy with hair that long. I
guess it was just coming into fashion then. I know in my mind that it isn't what's on your head but what's in it that counts; but on that day I
was unprepared and my emotions flipped. I immediately filed Tommy under "S" for strange . . . very strange.
Tommy turned out to be the "atheist in residence" in my Theology of Faith course. He constantly objected to, smirked at, or whined about the possibility of an unconditionally loving Father-God. We lived with each other in relative peace for one semester, although I admit he was for me at times a serious pain in the back pew. When he came up at the end of the course to turn in his final exam, he asked in a slightly cynical tone: "Do you think I'll ever find God?"
I decided instantly on a little shock therapy. "No!" I said very emphatically.
"Oh," he responded, "I thought that was the product you were pushing."
I let him get five steps from the classroom door and then called out: "Tommy! I don't think you'll ever find him, but I am absolutely certain that he will find you!"
He shrugged a little and left my class and my life. I felt slightly disappointed at the thought that he had missed my clever line: "He will find you!" At least I thought it was clever.
Later I heard that Tommy had graduated and I was duly grateful. Then a sad report, I heard that Tommy had terminal cancer. Before I could search him out, he came to see me. When he walked into my office, his body was very badly wasted, and the long hair had all fallen out as a result of chemotherapy. But his eyes were bright and his voice was firm, for the first time, I believe.
"Tommy, I've thought about you so often. I hear you are sick!" I blurted out.
"Oh, yes, very sick. I have cancer in both lungs. It's a matter of weeks."
"Can you talk about it, Tom?"
"Sure, what would you like to know?"
"What's it like to be only twenty-four and dying?"
"Well, it could be worse."
"Like what?"
"Well, like being fifty and having no values or ideals, like being fifty and thinking that booze, seducing women, and making money are the real 'biggies' in life."
I began to look through my mental file cabinet under "S" where I had filed Tommy as strange. (It seems as though everybody I try to reject by classification God sends back into my life to educate me.) But what I really came to see you about," Tom said, " is something you said to me on the last day of class." (He remembered!) He continued, "I asked you if you thought I would ever find God and you said, 'No!' which surprised me. Then you said, 'But he will find you.' I thought about that a lot, even though my search for God was hardly intense at that time. (My "clever" line. He thought about that a lot!) But when the doctors removed a lump from my groin and told me that it was malignant, then I got serious about locating God. And when the malignancy spread into my vital organs, I really began banging bloody fists against the bronze doors of heaven. But God did not come out. In fact, nothing happened. Did you ever try anything for a long time with great effort and with no success? You get psychologically glutted, fed up with trying. And then you quit. Well, one day I woke up, and instead of throwing a few more futile appeals over that high brick wall to a God who may be or may not be there, I just quit. I decided that I didn't really care...about God, about an afterlife, or anything like that.
"I decided to spend what time I had left doing something more profitable. I thought about you and your class and I remembered something else you had said: 'The essential sadness is to go through life without loving. But it would be almost equally sad to go through life and leave this world without ever telling those you loved that you had loved them.'
"So I began with the hardest one: my Dad. He was reading the newspaper when I approached him." 'Dad'". .
"Yes, what?" he asked without lowering the newspaper.
"Dad, I would like to talk with you."
"Well, talk."
"I mean... . It's really important."
The newspaper came down three slow inches. "What is it?"
"Dad, I love you. I just wanted you to know that."
Tom smiled at me and said with obvious satisfaction, as though he felt a warm and secret joy flowing inside of him: "The newspaper fluttered to the floor. Then my father did two things I could never remember him ever doing before. He cried and he hugged me. And we talked all night, even though he had to go to work the next morning. It felt so good to be close to my father, to see his tears, to feel his hug, to hear him say that he loved me.
"It was easier with my mother and little brother. They cried with me, too, and we hugged each other, and started saying real nice things to each other. We shared the things we had been keeping secret for so many years. I was only sorry about one thing: that I had waited so long. Here I was just beginning to open up to all the people I had actually been close to.
"Then, one day I turned around and God was there. He didn't come to me when I pleaded with him. I guess I was like an animal trainer holding out a hoop, 'C'mon, jump through.' 'C'mon, I'll give you three days ...three weeks.' Apparently God does things in his own way and at his own hour.
"But the important thing is that he was there. He found me. You were right. He found me even after I stopped looking for him."
"Tommy," I practically gasped, "I think you are saying something very important and much more universal than you realize. To me, at least, you are saying that the surest way to find God is not to make him a private possession, a problem solver, or an instant consolation in time of need, but rather by opening to love. You know, the Apostle John said that. He said God is love, and anyone who lives in love is living with God and God is living in him.' Tom, could I ask you a favor? You know, when I had you in class you were a real pain. But (laughingly) you can make it all up to me now. Would you come into my present Theology of Faith course and tell them what you have just told me? If I told them the same thing it wouldn't be half as effective as if you were to tell them. "
Ooh . . . I was ready for you, but I don't know if I'm ready for your class."
" Tom, think about it. If and when you are ready, give me a call."
In a few days Tommy called, said he was ready for the class, that he wanted to do that for God and for me. So we scheduled a date. However, he never made it. He had another appointment, far more important than the one with me and my class.
Of course, his life was not really ended by his death, only changed. He made the great step from faith into vision. He found a life far more beautiful than the eye of man has ever seen or the ear of man has ever heard or the mind of man has ever imagined.
Before he died, we talked one last time. "I'm not going to make it to your class," he said.
"I know, Tom."
"Will you tell them for me? Will you . . . tell the whole world for me?"
"I will, Tom. I'll tell them. I'll do my best."
So, to all of you who have been kind enough to hear this simple statement about love, thank you for listening. And to you, Tommy, somewhere in the sunlit, verdant hills of heaven: "I told them, Tommy ... as best I could."
If this story means anything to you, please pass it on to a friend or
two. It is a true story and is not enhanced for publicity purposes.
by John Powell
[Christian Inspiration ] [ Contents ]
THE DUCK