This scene is in Patrick Rothfuss' The Name of the Wind.
There is a scene in which a teacher [Elodin] explains to his student [Kvothe] that some things “cannot be described, only experienced and understood.”
“Can you describe all things you understand?” he [the teacher] looked sideways at me [the student].
“Of course.”
Elodin pointed down the street. “What color is that boy’s shirt?”
“Blue.”
“What do you mean by blue? Describe it.”
The student then failed to describe the color blue.
The teacher concluded, “Using words to talk of words is like using a pencil to draw a picture of itself, on itself. Impossible. Confusing. Frustrating.” He lifted his hands high above his head as if streatching for the sky. “But there are other ways to understanding!” he shouted, laughing like a child. He threw both arms to the cloudless arch of sky above us, still laughing. “Look!” he shouted tilting his head back. “Blue! Blue! Blue!”
The Envious Bird
Dwight L. Moody once told the fable of an eagle who was envious of another that could fly better than he could. One day the bird saw a sportsman with a bow and arrow and said to him, “I wish you would bring down that eagle up there.” The man said he would if he had some feathers for his arrow. So the jealous eagle pulled one out of his wing. The arrow was shot, but it didn’t quite reach the rival bird because he was flying too high. The first eagle pulled out another feather, then another—until he had lost so many that he himself couldn’t fly. The archer took advantage of the situation, turned around, and killed the helpless bird. Moody made this application: if you are envious of others, the one you will hurt the most by your actions will be yourself.
Irreplaceability
Found this on Wikipedia.
"The graveyards are full of indispensable men. ”
—Charles de Gaulle (don't use this quote as being from Charles de Gaulle. It is falsely attributed to him. See the Quote Investigator. - Regan)
If you need to leave, you can be replaced. If you were doing an essential function without anyone else helping you, either the community will do without or someone else will take over and pick up where you left off. Either way, you don't need to lose sleep over the fate of your Wiki-work.
On a more sober note, no individual contributor is so essential that consistent poor behavior will be tolerated. While it is true that idiosyncrasies are more tolerated in established editors with a track record of good contributions, the community has sanctioned any number of editors who made positive contributions to the encyclopedia because their behavior failed to uphold the civility pillar.
"The graveyards are full of indispensable men. ”
—Charles de Gaulle (don't use this quote as being from Charles de Gaulle. It is falsely attributed to him. See the Quote Investigator. - Regan)
If you need to leave, you can be replaced. If you were doing an essential function without anyone else helping you, either the community will do without or someone else will take over and pick up where you left off. Either way, you don't need to lose sleep over the fate of your Wiki-work.
On a more sober note, no individual contributor is so essential that consistent poor behavior will be tolerated. While it is true that idiosyncrasies are more tolerated in established editors with a track record of good contributions, the community has sanctioned any number of editors who made positive contributions to the encyclopedia because their behavior failed to uphold the civility pillar.
Missing The Cake
Excerpt from Caution: Your Business Is Not Irreplaceable
At The Trademark Company we have created a great place to work. Happy hours. Trips to local sporting events. Other corporate events. One of these traditions is that no one should work on their Birthday, or at least not a full day. So whenever we have a birthday in the office the tradition is the birthday boy or girl comes in, checks their messages, yadda yadda yadda, we have lunch, a sugar bomb cake and send them on their way to enjoy the rest of the day off.
So today it fell on me to get the cake. I know that our birthday girl loves ice cream cake so I planned on picking one up for her just before the lunch. No worries, I thought, the ice cream store that makes the best ice cream cakes is two blocks away. I’ll just swing up at 11:30 a.m., just before the lunch, and grab one of their delectable morsels. Okay, so I waited till the last minute. My bad.
When I got to the store I pulled on the handle. The door would not open. Like all people faced with a door that will not open I curiously looked at the seam between the door and the frame to see if the lock was engaged. To my surprise it was. Hmmmm, I thought, why is the door locked in the middle of the day? Looking inside I could see the employees standing around. Some working on cleaning counter tops, some just chatting away. I stepped back looking for an hours of operation sign. There it was, posted clear as day: Winter Hours, M-F, 12 p.m-6 p.m. Ahhh, I thought realizing I would soon be on the way to forage for another place that makes ice cream cakes.
But to my good fortunate, or so I thought, an employee came to the door. It was now 11:45 a.m. Awesome. He is going to let me in early so I can buy a cake. To my chagrin, however, he just looked at me from the other side of the window and shrugged his shoulders as if to say “Sorry bud, we’re closed.” Got that from the sign, thanks. But since I figured I was here, he was there, I was one twist of a wrist on a latch lock from achieving my objective. So I decided to sweeten the deal. I opened my wallet and pulled out a bundle of twenties. As a married man with children it is not often I actually have cash in my wallet. But today was my day!
I subtly waived the green at the employee through the window pointing to the display case which held $50 to $75 cakes. This would be a good sale to start the day for a store that averages $4 to $5 per cone. The employee approached the door. My victory was assured. Capitalism had triumphed and in a few minutes I would be bringing back an awesome chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream cake that would be the best sugar bomb we had had in the office in months.
As he stepped forward, however, he shrugged again, pointing to the sign with the hours of operation, and smirked as he walked away to chat with his other employees. Foiled! Commerce and the temptation of an above-average sale had not been enough.
Undaunted, I stuffed my twenties back into my wallet, drove to my local grocery store, and purchased a wonderful Carvel Ice Cream cake. Thank you Carvel! Always great. Available 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.
At The Trademark Company we have created a great place to work. Happy hours. Trips to local sporting events. Other corporate events. One of these traditions is that no one should work on their Birthday, or at least not a full day. So whenever we have a birthday in the office the tradition is the birthday boy or girl comes in, checks their messages, yadda yadda yadda, we have lunch, a sugar bomb cake and send them on their way to enjoy the rest of the day off.
So today it fell on me to get the cake. I know that our birthday girl loves ice cream cake so I planned on picking one up for her just before the lunch. No worries, I thought, the ice cream store that makes the best ice cream cakes is two blocks away. I’ll just swing up at 11:30 a.m., just before the lunch, and grab one of their delectable morsels. Okay, so I waited till the last minute. My bad.
When I got to the store I pulled on the handle. The door would not open. Like all people faced with a door that will not open I curiously looked at the seam between the door and the frame to see if the lock was engaged. To my surprise it was. Hmmmm, I thought, why is the door locked in the middle of the day? Looking inside I could see the employees standing around. Some working on cleaning counter tops, some just chatting away. I stepped back looking for an hours of operation sign. There it was, posted clear as day: Winter Hours, M-F, 12 p.m-6 p.m. Ahhh, I thought realizing I would soon be on the way to forage for another place that makes ice cream cakes.
But to my good fortunate, or so I thought, an employee came to the door. It was now 11:45 a.m. Awesome. He is going to let me in early so I can buy a cake. To my chagrin, however, he just looked at me from the other side of the window and shrugged his shoulders as if to say “Sorry bud, we’re closed.” Got that from the sign, thanks. But since I figured I was here, he was there, I was one twist of a wrist on a latch lock from achieving my objective. So I decided to sweeten the deal. I opened my wallet and pulled out a bundle of twenties. As a married man with children it is not often I actually have cash in my wallet. But today was my day!
I subtly waived the green at the employee through the window pointing to the display case which held $50 to $75 cakes. This would be a good sale to start the day for a store that averages $4 to $5 per cone. The employee approached the door. My victory was assured. Capitalism had triumphed and in a few minutes I would be bringing back an awesome chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream cake that would be the best sugar bomb we had had in the office in months.
As he stepped forward, however, he shrugged again, pointing to the sign with the hours of operation, and smirked as he walked away to chat with his other employees. Foiled! Commerce and the temptation of an above-average sale had not been enough.
Undaunted, I stuffed my twenties back into my wallet, drove to my local grocery store, and purchased a wonderful Carvel Ice Cream cake. Thank you Carvel! Always great. Available 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.
What Did You Do Today
A man came home from work and found his 3 children outside, still in their pajamas, playing in the mud. Empty food boxes and wrappers were strewn around garden. The door of his wife's car was open, as was the front door to the house and there was no sign of the dog. Walking in the door, he found ...an even bigger mess. A lamp had been knocked over. The throw rug was against one wall. In the front room the TV was blaring loudly with the cartoon channel despite nobody watching it. The family room was strewn with toys and various items of clothing. In the kitchen, dishes filled the sink, breakfast food was spilled on the counter, the fridge door was open wide, dog food was spilled on the floor, a broken glass lay under the table, and a small pile of sand was spread by the back door.
He quickly headed up the stairs, stepping over toys and more piles of clothes, looking for his wife. He was worried she might be ill, or that something serious had happened. He was met with a small trickle of water as it made its way out the bathroom door. As he peered inside, he found wet towels, scummy soap and more toys strewn over the floor. Miles of toilet paper lay in a heap and toothpaste had been smeared over the mirror and walls. As he rushed to the bedroom, he found his wife still curled up in the bed in her pajamas, reading a novel.
She looked up at him, smiled and asked how his day went.
He looked at her bewildered and asked, 'What happened here today?'
She again smiled and answered, 'You know every day when you come home from work and you ask me what in the world do I do all day?...
''Yes," was his incredulous reply..
She answered, 'Well, today I didn't do it.'
He quickly headed up the stairs, stepping over toys and more piles of clothes, looking for his wife. He was worried she might be ill, or that something serious had happened. He was met with a small trickle of water as it made its way out the bathroom door. As he peered inside, he found wet towels, scummy soap and more toys strewn over the floor. Miles of toilet paper lay in a heap and toothpaste had been smeared over the mirror and walls. As he rushed to the bedroom, he found his wife still curled up in the bed in her pajamas, reading a novel.
She looked up at him, smiled and asked how his day went.
He looked at her bewildered and asked, 'What happened here today?'
She again smiled and answered, 'You know every day when you come home from work and you ask me what in the world do I do all day?...
''Yes," was his incredulous reply..
She answered, 'Well, today I didn't do it.'
Reaching Your Dreams
Many of you know of Deion Sanders. Known during his popular days as Prime Time, he is now a member of the pro football hall of Fame after stints in Atlanta, San Francisco, Dallas, Washington, and Baltimore. Back when he was playing both professional football and professional baseball,
he became the only athlete to hit a Major League
home run and score a NFL touchdown in the same week along with being the only man to play in
a Super Bowl and the World Series.
Interestingly, Sanders grew up on the tough streets of Fort Myers, Florida, where he was exposed to some "would-be" athletes that spurred him to make a success of himself. He explains: "I call them Idas. 'If I'da done this, I'd be making three million today... If I'da practiced a little harder, I'd be a superstar.' They were as fast as me when they were kids, but instead of working for their dreams they chose drugs and a life of street corners. When I was young, I had practice; my friends who didn't went straight to the streets and never left. That moment after school is the moment we need to grab. We don't need any more Idas."
Interestingly, Sanders grew up on the tough streets of Fort Myers, Florida, where he was exposed to some "would-be" athletes that spurred him to make a success of himself. He explains: "I call them Idas. 'If I'da done this, I'd be making three million today... If I'da practiced a little harder, I'd be a superstar.' They were as fast as me when they were kids, but instead of working for their dreams they chose drugs and a life of street corners. When I was young, I had practice; my friends who didn't went straight to the streets and never left. That moment after school is the moment we need to grab. We don't need any more Idas."
You're Not Done Yet
Picture with me a youth baseball game. Picture with me a boy standing up to bat. But this was not just any baseball game…the championship game. It’s been a long year up to this point and the team was so very close to winning it all. It was the last inning, the bases were loaded 2 outs, down by 1 run. The boy batting had his whole extended family there cheering him on, uncles, grandparents, parents, were there just to watch his game just to cheer him on. This was the championship.
The First pitch came, it so fast, he couldn't even react. As he steps out of the batter’s box he decides he's going to swing no matter what. 2nd pitch comes in right over the plate and he swings but misses. The boy zeros in on the pitcher and re-grips his bat. Now comes the 3rd pitch, everyone's cheering, Let's go. You can do it. He concentrates, and swings as hard as he can and... he misses. Strike 3 you’re out. The other team in their excitement rushes the field cheering, high fiving, and they carry the pitcher off the field. The boy’s team hangs their heads some of them are crying as they walk off the field. If only someone else would have been up to hit last. Quickly the stands empty and the little boy just stands at home plate silent. Both teams clear out. The boy feels alone.
Suddenly he hears, "You're not done yet." He lifts up his head with tears in his eyes and he sees his dad taking the mound, his uncle is headed to 1st base, his mom goes to second and a bunch of aunts filling the outfield. His grandpa at short stop.
His dad from the mound says pick up your bat. You can do this.
The dad winds up and pitches one in. the little boy swings hard again but misses. "Try again." His dad says.
This time the boy hits it but it just kind of slowly rolls toward his grandpa at shortstop.
"Run" yells his dad and all the aunts start cheering from the outfield run!
He takes off at full speed and as luck would have it grandpa at short misses the slow roller and it trickles into the outfield.
By the time his aunt in left field gets it he's halfway to second, she "accidently" throws to first instead and by the time his uncle catches the ball he's rounded 2nd and is heading to third there he beats the throw to his grandma on third. But the throw was over his grandmas head…so he takes off home.
As he heads home his family cheers wildly and his dad runs to home plate to take the catch.
The grandma throws home, the kid slides head first, Dad misses the tag. He’s safe! The whole family rushes him celebrates with him and carries him off the field on their shoulders chanting his name loudly and proudly.
The First pitch came, it so fast, he couldn't even react. As he steps out of the batter’s box he decides he's going to swing no matter what. 2nd pitch comes in right over the plate and he swings but misses. The boy zeros in on the pitcher and re-grips his bat. Now comes the 3rd pitch, everyone's cheering, Let's go. You can do it. He concentrates, and swings as hard as he can and... he misses. Strike 3 you’re out. The other team in their excitement rushes the field cheering, high fiving, and they carry the pitcher off the field. The boy’s team hangs their heads some of them are crying as they walk off the field. If only someone else would have been up to hit last. Quickly the stands empty and the little boy just stands at home plate silent. Both teams clear out. The boy feels alone.
Suddenly he hears, "You're not done yet." He lifts up his head with tears in his eyes and he sees his dad taking the mound, his uncle is headed to 1st base, his mom goes to second and a bunch of aunts filling the outfield. His grandpa at short stop.
His dad from the mound says pick up your bat. You can do this.
The dad winds up and pitches one in. the little boy swings hard again but misses. "Try again." His dad says.
This time the boy hits it but it just kind of slowly rolls toward his grandpa at shortstop.
"Run" yells his dad and all the aunts start cheering from the outfield run!
He takes off at full speed and as luck would have it grandpa at short misses the slow roller and it trickles into the outfield.
By the time his aunt in left field gets it he's halfway to second, she "accidently" throws to first instead and by the time his uncle catches the ball he's rounded 2nd and is heading to third there he beats the throw to his grandma on third. But the throw was over his grandmas head…so he takes off home.
As he heads home his family cheers wildly and his dad runs to home plate to take the catch.
The grandma throws home, the kid slides head first, Dad misses the tag. He’s safe! The whole family rushes him celebrates with him and carries him off the field on their shoulders chanting his name loudly and proudly.
Where's My Recognition
An old missionary couple had been working in Africa for years and were returning to New York to retire. They had no pension; their health was broken; they were defeated, discouraged, and afraid. They discovered they were booked on the same ship as President Teddy Roosevelt, who was returning from one of his big-game hunting expeditions.
They watched the fanfare that accompanied the President's entourage. As the ship moved across the ocean, the old missionary said to his wife, "Something is wrong. Why should we have given our lives in faithful service for God in Africa all these many years and have no one care a thing about us? Here this man comes back from a hunting trip and everybody makes much over him, but nobody gives two hoots about us, it doesn't seem right."
When the ship docked in New York, a band was waiting to greet the President. The mayor and other dignitaries were there. But no one noticed this missionary couple. They slipped off the ship and found a cheap flat on the East Side, hoping to see what they could do to make a living in the city.
That night the man's spirit broke. He said to his wife, "I can't take this; God is not treating us fairly." His wife replied, "Why don't you tell it to the Lord?" A short time later he came out from the bedroom a changed man.
"The Lord settled it with me, I told him how bitter I was that the President should receive this tremendous homecoming, when no one met us as we returned home. And when I finished, it seemed as though the Lord put his hand on my shoulder and simply said, 'But you're not home yet!'"
from Ray Stedman's Talking to My Father
They watched the fanfare that accompanied the President's entourage. As the ship moved across the ocean, the old missionary said to his wife, "Something is wrong. Why should we have given our lives in faithful service for God in Africa all these many years and have no one care a thing about us? Here this man comes back from a hunting trip and everybody makes much over him, but nobody gives two hoots about us, it doesn't seem right."
When the ship docked in New York, a band was waiting to greet the President. The mayor and other dignitaries were there. But no one noticed this missionary couple. They slipped off the ship and found a cheap flat on the East Side, hoping to see what they could do to make a living in the city.
That night the man's spirit broke. He said to his wife, "I can't take this; God is not treating us fairly." His wife replied, "Why don't you tell it to the Lord?" A short time later he came out from the bedroom a changed man.
"The Lord settled it with me, I told him how bitter I was that the President should receive this tremendous homecoming, when no one met us as we returned home. And when I finished, it seemed as though the Lord put his hand on my shoulder and simply said, 'But you're not home yet!'"
from Ray Stedman's Talking to My Father
Finding Gold
Dale Carnegie wrote the book titled “How to Win Friends and Influence people.” It was an overnight success selling over 15 million copies. Dale Carnegie was a master at identifying people with great potential.
He was once asked by a news reporter how he had managed to hire 43 men who were all millionaires. He said well it’s simple, none of them were millionaires when I hired them. All of them became millionaires while they were working for him. He said you find potential the same way you find gold. Several tons of dirt must be moved to get one ounce of gold. But you don’t go into the mine looking for dirt....you go in looking for gold. You look for potential.
He was once asked by a news reporter how he had managed to hire 43 men who were all millionaires. He said well it’s simple, none of them were millionaires when I hired them. All of them became millionaires while they were working for him. He said you find potential the same way you find gold. Several tons of dirt must be moved to get one ounce of gold. But you don’t go into the mine looking for dirt....you go in looking for gold. You look for potential.
A Priest On The Titanic
The untold story of the Titanic’s Catholic priest who went down hearing confessions
Brief excerpt from the link:
Brief excerpt from the link:
According to witnesses, as the ship went down the priest helped women and children get into the lifeboats, then heard confessions, gave absolution, and led passengers in reciting the Rosary.
Agnes McCoy, one of the survivors, says that as the great ship sank, Fr. Byles “stood on the deck with Catholics, Protestants and Jews kneeling around him.”
“Father Byles was saying the rosary and praying for the repose of the souls of those about to perish,” she told the New York Telegram on April 22, 1912, according to the website devoted to his memory, FatherByles.com.
In the words of the priest’s friend Fr. Patrick McKenna, “He twice refused the offer of a place in a boat, saying his duty was to stay on the ship while one soul wanted his ministrations.”
Brennan Manning - Dying With Jesus
Once a woman asked me to come and pray with her father, who was dying of cancer. When I arrived, I found the man lying in bed with his head propped up on two pillows and an empty chair beside his bed.
I assumed the old fellow had been informed of my visit. “I guess you were expecting me,”
I said. “No, who are you?”
“I’m the new associate at your parish,” I replied. “When I saw the empty chair, I figured you knew I was going to show up.”
“Oh yeah, the chair,” said the bed-ridden man. “Would you mind closing the door?”
Puzzled, I shut the door.
“I’ve never told anyone this, not even my daughter,” said the man, “but all my life I have never known how to pray. At the Sunday Mass I used to hear the pastor talk about prayer, but it always went right over my head. I abandoned any attempt at prayer,” he continued, “until one day about four years ago my best friend said to me, ‘Joe, prayer is just a simple matter of having a conversation with Jesus. Here’s what I suggest. Sit down on a chair, place an empty chair in front of you, and in faith see Jesus on the chair. It’s not spooky because He promised, “I’ll be with you all days.” Then just speak to Him and listen in the same way you’re doing with me right now.’
“So, Padre, I tried it, and I like it so much that I do it a couple of hours every day.
I’m careful though. If my daughter saw me talking to an empty chair, she’d send me off to the funny farm.”
I was deeply moved by the story and encouraged the old guy to continue on the journey. Then I prayed with him, anointed him with oil, and returned to the rectory.
Two nights later the daughter called to tell me that her daddy had died that afternoon. “Did he seem to die in peace?” I asked. “Yes. But there was something strange. In fact, beyond strange—kinda weird. Apparently just before Daddy died, he leaned over and rested his head on a chair beside his bed.”
From Abba’s Child by Brennan Manning
I assumed the old fellow had been informed of my visit. “I guess you were expecting me,”
I said. “No, who are you?”
“I’m the new associate at your parish,” I replied. “When I saw the empty chair, I figured you knew I was going to show up.”
“Oh yeah, the chair,” said the bed-ridden man. “Would you mind closing the door?”
Puzzled, I shut the door.
“I’ve never told anyone this, not even my daughter,” said the man, “but all my life I have never known how to pray. At the Sunday Mass I used to hear the pastor talk about prayer, but it always went right over my head. I abandoned any attempt at prayer,” he continued, “until one day about four years ago my best friend said to me, ‘Joe, prayer is just a simple matter of having a conversation with Jesus. Here’s what I suggest. Sit down on a chair, place an empty chair in front of you, and in faith see Jesus on the chair. It’s not spooky because He promised, “I’ll be with you all days.” Then just speak to Him and listen in the same way you’re doing with me right now.’
“So, Padre, I tried it, and I like it so much that I do it a couple of hours every day.
I’m careful though. If my daughter saw me talking to an empty chair, she’d send me off to the funny farm.”
I was deeply moved by the story and encouraged the old guy to continue on the journey. Then I prayed with him, anointed him with oil, and returned to the rectory.
Two nights later the daughter called to tell me that her daddy had died that afternoon. “Did he seem to die in peace?” I asked. “Yes. But there was something strange. In fact, beyond strange—kinda weird. Apparently just before Daddy died, he leaned over and rested his head on a chair beside his bed.”
From Abba’s Child by Brennan Manning
Brennan Manning - Kevin Martin - Finding God In The Midst Of Disappointment and Hurt
Just a few years ago, an Episcopal priest from Columbus, OH, walked into his office, his church office, on a Monday morning and wrote a hasty letter of resignation. Then he went back to his house, sat down at the kitchen table, and wrote a letter to his wife and three children, all under the age of 10, that he was abandoning them. He went to a logging camp in New England. He took a job in Vermont as a logger.
One Saturday afternoon in January it was about 10 degrees below zero, heavy snow, and the priest was sitting in his portable aluminum trailer that he had rented. The only source of heat was a tiny portable aluminum heater. The heater suddenly quit and died. Within minutes, the temperature in the trailer plunged down to zero.
Shivering and in a fit of rage, the priest picked up the heater, flung it through the window, broke the window, and shouted, "Christ, I hate you. Damn you, God. Get out of my life. I'm finished with this Christian crap. It's all over."
He sank to his knees, defeated and weeping. And in the bright darkness of faith, he heard a voice from within say, "It's okay, Kevin. I understand. I'm here. I am with you and I am for you."
Then he heard Jesus weeping within him. Christ felt what he was feeling. It was an overwhelming feeling of intimacy. That same afternoon Kevin Martin packed his bag, returned to Columbus, Ohio to be reconciled to his family and his church. Since that time he has gone on to pastor the most alive, dynamic, and Spirit-filled Episcopal church in America, St. Luke's in Seattle, Washington. Jesus is fine tuned to our anger and disappointment. He really knows what hurts the human heart.
One Saturday afternoon in January it was about 10 degrees below zero, heavy snow, and the priest was sitting in his portable aluminum trailer that he had rented. The only source of heat was a tiny portable aluminum heater. The heater suddenly quit and died. Within minutes, the temperature in the trailer plunged down to zero.
Shivering and in a fit of rage, the priest picked up the heater, flung it through the window, broke the window, and shouted, "Christ, I hate you. Damn you, God. Get out of my life. I'm finished with this Christian crap. It's all over."
He sank to his knees, defeated and weeping. And in the bright darkness of faith, he heard a voice from within say, "It's okay, Kevin. I understand. I'm here. I am with you and I am for you."
Then he heard Jesus weeping within him. Christ felt what he was feeling. It was an overwhelming feeling of intimacy. That same afternoon Kevin Martin packed his bag, returned to Columbus, Ohio to be reconciled to his family and his church. Since that time he has gone on to pastor the most alive, dynamic, and Spirit-filled Episcopal church in America, St. Luke's in Seattle, Washington. Jesus is fine tuned to our anger and disappointment. He really knows what hurts the human heart.
Brennan Manning - Are You Jesus?
In The Ragamuffin Gospel, Brennan Manning writes about five salesmen from Milwaukee who went to a convention in Chicago. They had promised their wives that they would be home in time for dinner, but the meeting ran over and the men were running hard to catch the train. As they ran through the terminal, one of the men accidentally kicked over a table supporting a basket of apples.
Without breaking stride, all of the group ran on and caught the commuter train with a sigh of relief, except one.
It just so happened that the table belonged to a 10-year old boy who was there selling apples to pay for his books and clothes for school.One of the salesmen, looking back, felt a pang of guilt and told his friends to call his wife and tell him he would be an hour and a half late. He returned to the little boy only to discover that the boy was blind. With great compassion, he began to gather up all the apples, returned them to his table and then he gave the little boy twenty dollars for the apples that had been bruised in the mishap. As the man walked away, the bewildered, blind boy called after him saying, “Are you Jesus?”
It just so happened that the table belonged to a 10-year old boy who was there selling apples to pay for his books and clothes for school.One of the salesmen, looking back, felt a pang of guilt and told his friends to call his wife and tell him he would be an hour and a half late. He returned to the little boy only to discover that the boy was blind. With great compassion, he began to gather up all the apples, returned them to his table and then he gave the little boy twenty dollars for the apples that had been bruised in the mishap. As the man walked away, the bewildered, blind boy called after him saying, “Are you Jesus?”
Wesley Korir - Strength From The Lord
In college, Wesley Korir started running at Murray State before transferring to the Louisville Cardinals. He had a good but not stellar college career. He was Conference USA Freshman runner of the year in 2004 and earned All-Region honors in 2005 & 2006.
Growing up in Sudan, Korir would run twenty miles ever day for school. Five miles to school. Ten miles for lunch and back. And then five more home.
In 2007, Korir needed to renew his Visa. During his stay in Sudan, they had elections and things went crazy. Riots and killings. In one of the mobs Korir was caught up in, he saw one of Kenyans running Olympians, Lucas Sang, killed. He eventually fled to Uganda.
Back in the States, he worked as a maintenance man at the University of Louisville. His coach encouaraged him to run in the 2008 Chicago Marathon. In the Chicago marathon, like most major marathons, they have an official marathon with the elite runners (in this case twenty runners) and then they let everyone else who wants to participate run behind them. Korir had to run in the pack with all the normal runners, yet caught up with and passed fifteen of the elite runners finishing fourth overall and winning the non-elite marathon.
A few months later, he went to Los Angeles and ran in the Los Angeles marathon, which he won in the fastest time in Los Angeles marathon history. 2 hours 8 minutes 24 seconds. Then in 2010, he won again becoming the first back-to-back winner. And in 2012, Korir won the Boston Marathon.
How I love the story of Korir rising from the poverty of Sudan to an above average college runner to the best runner in the world. If only we could bottle whatever he drinks and consume that same thing in our life. Maybe we can.
Most of the elite runners have special laboratory made concoctions designed specifically for them to nourish their body during the run. Korir only drinks water. He claims, “I don’t want my strength to come from any concoction; I want it to come from the Lord.”
Growing up in Sudan, Korir would run twenty miles ever day for school. Five miles to school. Ten miles for lunch and back. And then five more home.
In 2007, Korir needed to renew his Visa. During his stay in Sudan, they had elections and things went crazy. Riots and killings. In one of the mobs Korir was caught up in, he saw one of Kenyans running Olympians, Lucas Sang, killed. He eventually fled to Uganda.
Back in the States, he worked as a maintenance man at the University of Louisville. His coach encouaraged him to run in the 2008 Chicago Marathon. In the Chicago marathon, like most major marathons, they have an official marathon with the elite runners (in this case twenty runners) and then they let everyone else who wants to participate run behind them. Korir had to run in the pack with all the normal runners, yet caught up with and passed fifteen of the elite runners finishing fourth overall and winning the non-elite marathon.
A few months later, he went to Los Angeles and ran in the Los Angeles marathon, which he won in the fastest time in Los Angeles marathon history. 2 hours 8 minutes 24 seconds. Then in 2010, he won again becoming the first back-to-back winner. And in 2012, Korir won the Boston Marathon.
How I love the story of Korir rising from the poverty of Sudan to an above average college runner to the best runner in the world. If only we could bottle whatever he drinks and consume that same thing in our life. Maybe we can.
Most of the elite runners have special laboratory made concoctions designed specifically for them to nourish their body during the run. Korir only drinks water. He claims, “I don’t want my strength to come from any concoction; I want it to come from the Lord.”
Don't Reject The Cure
A plague was ravaging a tiny village in the outermost bush of a remote African province. A lone missionary, a doctor who had given his life to fighting this particular disease, had gone in with the only cure available. It was made from plants indigenous to the region and could quite easily be reproduced by the villagers themselves just by taking some of the leaves and mixing it with some herbs & spices. When he went in, he found that there wasn’t a single person in the village who was free of the disease. They all had it and were dying at an alarming rate.
Characteristic of the disease was a rash on the back of the neck. All he had to do was treat the rash with the medication and the people could be healed… but he couldn’t get anybody to let him give them the medication. Despite the fact that people were dying… nobody realized that they were sick. They all had the same rash. There wasn’t anything unusual about it. Since everybody had the same markings on their necks, they just assumed it was normal and nobody realized any different. Nobody realized it was killing them.
Characteristic of the disease was a rash on the back of the neck. All he had to do was treat the rash with the medication and the people could be healed… but he couldn’t get anybody to let him give them the medication. Despite the fact that people were dying… nobody realized that they were sick. They all had the same rash. There wasn’t anything unusual about it. Since everybody had the same markings on their necks, they just assumed it was normal and nobody realized any different. Nobody realized it was killing them.
Fear Diminished By Experience
I was visiting a man as he lay dying, his death only a couple of days away. I asked him there at the end what he was feeling. Was he fearful?
“Fear? No,” he responded, “I’m not fearful because of my faith in Jesus.”
“We all have hope that our future is in God’s hands,” I said, somewhat piously.
“Well, I’m not hopeful because of what I believe about the future,” he corrected me, “I’m hopeful because of what I’ve experienced in the past.”
I asked him to say more.
“I look back over my life, all the mistakes I’ve made, all the times I’ve turned away from Jesus, gone my own way, strayed, and got lost. And time and again, he found a way to get to me, showed up and got me, looked for me when I wasn’t looking for him. I don’t think he’ll let something like my dying defeat his love for me.”
There was a man who understood Easter.
--Bishop William Willimon
“Fear? No,” he responded, “I’m not fearful because of my faith in Jesus.”
“We all have hope that our future is in God’s hands,” I said, somewhat piously.
“Well, I’m not hopeful because of what I believe about the future,” he corrected me, “I’m hopeful because of what I’ve experienced in the past.”
I asked him to say more.
“I look back over my life, all the mistakes I’ve made, all the times I’ve turned away from Jesus, gone my own way, strayed, and got lost. And time and again, he found a way to get to me, showed up and got me, looked for me when I wasn’t looking for him. I don’t think he’ll let something like my dying defeat his love for me.”
There was a man who understood Easter.
--Bishop William Willimon
Portrait of the 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 hung the walls of the family estate.
As winter approached, war engulfed the nation, and the young man left to serve his country. After only a few short weeks, his father received a telegram. His beloved son was missing in action. The father 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.
On Christmas morning, a knock on the door awakened the depressed old man. As he opened the door, he was greeted by a soldier with a large package in his hand. He introduced himself to the 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 solider told of how his son talked about his love for his father and his father’s love of art.
“I’m an artist,” said the soldier, “and I want to give you this.” As the old man unwrapped the package, the paper gave way to reveal a portrait of the man’s son. Though the world would never consider it the work of a genius, the painting featured the young man’s face in striking detail.
Overcome with emotion, the man thanked the soldier, promising to hang the picture above the fireplace.
During the days and weeks that followed, the man realized that even though his son was no longer with him, the boy’s life would live on because of those he had touched. He would soon learn that his son had rescued dozens of wounded soldiers before a bullet stilled his caring heart. As he continued to hear stories of his sons compassion and bravery the painting of his son soon became his most prized possession.
The following spring, the old man became ill and passed away. The art world was in anticipation. With the collector’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 day he had received his greatest gift. The day soon arrived and art collectors from around the world gathered to bid on some of the world’s most spectacular paintings.
The auction began with a painting that was not on any museum’s list. It was the painting of the man’s son.
The auctioneer asked for an opening bid. The room was silent. “Who will open the bidding with $1000?” he asked.
Minutes passed. 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 go on to the good stuff.” More voices echoed in agreement.
“No, we have to sell this one first,” replied the auctioneer. “Now, who will take the son?” How about for 100?
Still the room was quiet and the people began to get angry?
50 dollars will anyone pay fifty dollars for the son?
Silence.
Finally, a friend of the old man spoke. “Will you take ten dollars for the painting? That’s all I have. I knew the boy, so I’d like to have it.”
“I have ten dollars. Will anyone go higher?” called the auctioneer. After more silence, the auctioneer said, “Going once, going twice. Sold.” The gavel fell. Cheers filled the room and someone exclaimed, “Now we can get on with it and we can bid on the real treasures!”
The auctioneer looked at the audience and announced the auction was over. Stunned disbelief quieted the room. Someone spoke up and asked, “What do you mean it’s over? We didn’t come here for a picture of some old guy’s son What about all of these paintings? There are millions of dollars of art here! I demand that you explain what’s going on here!.”
The auctioneer replied, “It’s very simple. According to the will of the father, whoever takes the son..gets it all.”
As winter approached, war engulfed the nation, and the young man left to serve his country. After only a few short weeks, his father received a telegram. His beloved son was missing in action. The father 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.
On Christmas morning, a knock on the door awakened the depressed old man. As he opened the door, he was greeted by a soldier with a large package in his hand. He introduced himself to the 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 solider told of how his son talked about his love for his father and his father’s love of art.
“I’m an artist,” said the soldier, “and I want to give you this.” As the old man unwrapped the package, the paper gave way to reveal a portrait of the man’s son. Though the world would never consider it the work of a genius, the painting featured the young man’s face in striking detail.
Overcome with emotion, the man thanked the soldier, promising to hang the picture above the fireplace.
During the days and weeks that followed, the man realized that even though his son was no longer with him, the boy’s life would live on because of those he had touched. He would soon learn that his son had rescued dozens of wounded soldiers before a bullet stilled his caring heart. As he continued to hear stories of his sons compassion and bravery the painting of his son soon became his most prized possession.
The following spring, the old man became ill and passed away. The art world was in anticipation. With the collector’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 day he had received his greatest gift. The day soon arrived and art collectors from around the world gathered to bid on some of the world’s most spectacular paintings.
The auction began with a painting that was not on any museum’s list. It was the painting of the man’s son.
The auctioneer asked for an opening bid. The room was silent. “Who will open the bidding with $1000?” he asked.
Minutes passed. 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 go on to the good stuff.” More voices echoed in agreement.
“No, we have to sell this one first,” replied the auctioneer. “Now, who will take the son?” How about for 100?
Still the room was quiet and the people began to get angry?
50 dollars will anyone pay fifty dollars for the son?
Silence.
Finally, a friend of the old man spoke. “Will you take ten dollars for the painting? That’s all I have. I knew the boy, so I’d like to have it.”
“I have ten dollars. Will anyone go higher?” called the auctioneer. After more silence, the auctioneer said, “Going once, going twice. Sold.” The gavel fell. Cheers filled the room and someone exclaimed, “Now we can get on with it and we can bid on the real treasures!”
The auctioneer looked at the audience and announced the auction was over. Stunned disbelief quieted the room. Someone spoke up and asked, “What do you mean it’s over? We didn’t come here for a picture of some old guy’s son What about all of these paintings? There are millions of dollars of art here! I demand that you explain what’s going on here!.”
The auctioneer replied, “It’s very simple. According to the will of the father, whoever takes the son..gets it all.”
No Apple A Day
In 1976, Steve Jobs and Steve Wozniak had developed the original Apple Computer, now known as the Apple I.
So they went to Atari and said, 'Hey, we've got this amazing thing, even built with some of your parts, and what do you think about funding us? Or we'll give it to you. We just want to do it. Pay our salary, we'll come work for you.'
And Atari said, 'No.'
So then we went to Hewlett-Packard, who Wozniak was working for at the time, and HP said, 'Hey, we don't need you. You haven't got through college yet.'"
So they went to Atari and said, 'Hey, we've got this amazing thing, even built with some of your parts, and what do you think about funding us? Or we'll give it to you. We just want to do it. Pay our salary, we'll come work for you.'
And Atari said, 'No.'
So then we went to Hewlett-Packard, who Wozniak was working for at the time, and HP said, 'Hey, we don't need you. You haven't got through college yet.'"
A Militant Atheist Converts to Christianity and Then Goes Back
Excerpts from: Patrick Greene, Longtime Atheist Activist, Announces Conversion To Christianity
Patrick Greene Changes His Mind About Converting to Christianity
Two months after he threatened to sue a Texas county for allowing a Nativity scene on public property, longtime atheist Patrick Greene has announced that he is not only converting to Christianity, but also plans to become a pastor, the Christian Post reports.
But he was forced to drop the lawsuit after doctors told him that he had developed eye cataracts and was in danger of losing his vision, according to the Houston Chronicle. Shortly thereafter, Greene's failing vision forced him to quit his job as a taxi driver and he was left with the challenge of supporting himself and his wife of 33 years.
That's when Jessica Crye, a Christian woman who read about Greene's troubles in the paper, went to members of her church and asked if they would be willing to donate money to help Greene. They ended up raising $400 in donations for Greene, which left him "flabbergasted that Christians would help atheists," the Athens Review reported at the time.
It's that compassion that Greene says compelled him to start rethinking his religious beliefs. He told the Christian Post that after thinking deeply about Christianity and reexamining his views on evolution and animals, he decided to start practicing the religion.
"There's been one lingering thought in the back of my head my entire life, and it's one thought that I've never been able to reconcile, and that is the vast difference between all the animals and us," Greene told the Post.After posting that initial story, I then ran across this. Still illustration material. Just different.
Patrick Greene Changes His Mind About Converting to Christianity
I am sorry to tell you , that I announced that I had become a Christian much too soon. It was out of the entire hype that surrounded all the loving, kindness, compassion and warmth of my relationship with Jessica Crye and Rev. Graham. After reading all the messages and emails from dozens of people, I realized that, after 50 years of being an atheist, I cannot continue this. I have examined my conscience thoroughly over this past weekend. I cannot go on thinking and feeling that I have changed my heart and mind. I haven’t. It goes against everything I have spent my life accomplishing. Especially since I cannot change my attitude toward gay rights and abortion. I spent many hours looking at the sight for the gay baptists and realized my error. Thank you very much for all your help.
The Forgetful Couple
Couple noticed they were having problems remembering things so they decided to go to the doctor for a check up. During a checkup, the doctor tells them that they're completely healthy, so they might want to start writing things down to help them remember
Later that night, while watching TV, the old man gets up from his chair. "Want anything while I'm in the kitchen?" he asks.
"Will you get me a bowl of ice cream?"
"Sure."
"Don't you think you should write it down so you can remember it?" she asks.
"No, I can remember it."
"Well, I'd like some strawberries on top, too. Maybe you should write it down, so your sure not to forget it."
He says, "I can remember that. You want a bowl of ice cream with strawberries."
"I'd also like whipped cream. I'm certain you'll forget that, write it down?" she asks.
Irritated, he says, "I don't need to write it down, I can remember it! Ice cream with strawberries and whipped cream - I got it, for goodness sake!"
So he heads into the kitchen. After about 20 minutes, The old man returns from the kitchen and hands his wife a plate of bacon and eggs. She stares at the plate for a moment.
After a moment she say’s I knew you should have wrote it down, where's my toast?
Later that night, while watching TV, the old man gets up from his chair. "Want anything while I'm in the kitchen?" he asks.
"Will you get me a bowl of ice cream?"
"Sure."
"Don't you think you should write it down so you can remember it?" she asks.
"No, I can remember it."
"Well, I'd like some strawberries on top, too. Maybe you should write it down, so your sure not to forget it."
He says, "I can remember that. You want a bowl of ice cream with strawberries."
"I'd also like whipped cream. I'm certain you'll forget that, write it down?" she asks.
Irritated, he says, "I don't need to write it down, I can remember it! Ice cream with strawberries and whipped cream - I got it, for goodness sake!"
So he heads into the kitchen. After about 20 minutes, The old man returns from the kitchen and hands his wife a plate of bacon and eggs. She stares at the plate for a moment.
After a moment she say’s I knew you should have wrote it down, where's my toast?
One-Armed Judo Champion
There is a story about a boy who lost his left arm in a tragic auto accident. The boy struggled with depression and rarely left his house. One day the boy told his father that he would like to sign up to take judo lessons because it was possible to do Judo with only one arm. The father, eager to do anything that might cheer up his son, quickly agreed and secured a sensei to instruct his son.
The boy went to lessons three times per week. While he learned some basic judo movements, most of the time he concentrated on learning just one move. Time and time again the training sessions focused on this one specific move that the judo teacher insisted the boy learn perfectly.
After a couple months, the judo teacher told the boy that he was going to be entered into a tournament. The boy responded with surprise. “Sensei, I’ve only been taking judo for a couple months. I only know one move and I only have one arm. I don’t think I’m ready for a tournament." But the sensei insisted.
The day of the tournament came and, to the young man’s surprise, he made his way through the first round and then the second. He passed the 3rd round and couldn’t believe his success that day. What ultimately surprised him was that he made his way to the finals and was about to face the state Judo champion. At this point, he was sure that with only one arm and one move he was going to be destroyed, but, sure enough, he won.
On the drive home the boy turned to his instructor and said, “I don’t understand Sensei, I have only been taking Judo for a couple of months. I only know one move, and I only have one arm. Yet I just beat the state champion. I just won the tournament! Sensei, how is this possible?”
The Sensei turned and looked at the boy and said, "You won for 2 reasons. First, the one move that you have perfected is the most effective move in all of judo. The second reason is the only defense against hat move is to grab your opponents left arm.”
The boy went to lessons three times per week. While he learned some basic judo movements, most of the time he concentrated on learning just one move. Time and time again the training sessions focused on this one specific move that the judo teacher insisted the boy learn perfectly.
After a couple months, the judo teacher told the boy that he was going to be entered into a tournament. The boy responded with surprise. “Sensei, I’ve only been taking judo for a couple months. I only know one move and I only have one arm. I don’t think I’m ready for a tournament." But the sensei insisted.
The day of the tournament came and, to the young man’s surprise, he made his way through the first round and then the second. He passed the 3rd round and couldn’t believe his success that day. What ultimately surprised him was that he made his way to the finals and was about to face the state Judo champion. At this point, he was sure that with only one arm and one move he was going to be destroyed, but, sure enough, he won.
On the drive home the boy turned to his instructor and said, “I don’t understand Sensei, I have only been taking Judo for a couple of months. I only know one move, and I only have one arm. Yet I just beat the state champion. I just won the tournament! Sensei, how is this possible?”
The Sensei turned and looked at the boy and said, "You won for 2 reasons. First, the one move that you have perfected is the most effective move in all of judo. The second reason is the only defense against hat move is to grab your opponents left arm.”
Windshield Wipers
One
rainy afternoon I was driving along one of the main streets of town, taking
those extra precautions necessary when the roads are wet and slick. Suddenly,
my son Matthew spoke up from his relaxed position in the front seat.
"Mom,
I'm thinking of something."
This
announcement usually meant he had been pondering some fact for a while and was
now ready to expound all that his seven-year-old mind had discovered. I was
eager to hear.
"What
are you thinking?" I asked.
"The
rain," he began, "is like sin and the windshield wipers are like God,
wiping our sins away."
After
the chill bumps raced up my arms I was able to respond. "That's really
good, Matthew."
Then
my curiosity broke in. How far would this little boy take this revelation? So I
asked... "Do you notice how the rain keeps on coming? What does that tell
you?"
Matthew didn't hesitate one moment with his
answer: "We keep on sinning, and God just keeps on forgiving us."
Property Line Fight
There was a dispute which had grown into a
lawsuit between two farmers as to just where the line between them was and
where a fence should be. Finally one of the farmers sold out, and the purchaser
moved in.
Soon he met Farmer Smith, who was agitated and said to his new neighbor, "They tell me you have bought this farm, and I just want to inform you that you have bought a lawsuit."
He was asked to explain, and said, "Well, the fence, being located where it is, cheats me out of two feet of my land."
"Then," said the newcomer kindly, "we will move it back four feet."
"No," said Farmer Smith, "that is more than I ask." "But," said the new neighbor, "I would rather have peace with my neighbors than a few feet of earth!"
"Then," said Farmer Smith very quietly, "if that is the way you feel, the fence stays just where it is and the lawsuit is all off."
Soon he met Farmer Smith, who was agitated and said to his new neighbor, "They tell me you have bought this farm, and I just want to inform you that you have bought a lawsuit."
He was asked to explain, and said, "Well, the fence, being located where it is, cheats me out of two feet of my land."
"Then," said the newcomer kindly, "we will move it back four feet."
"No," said Farmer Smith, "that is more than I ask." "But," said the new neighbor, "I would rather have peace with my neighbors than a few feet of earth!"
"Then," said Farmer Smith very quietly, "if that is the way you feel, the fence stays just where it is and the lawsuit is all off."
Bill Bartmann, John Ashcroft, and Forgiveness
In 1997, billionaire Bill Bartmann was named
America's 25th richest man.
He was riding the crest of a wave.
Then in 1998 that wave came crashing down.
Bartmann's former business partner committed fraud
that sent their company, Commercial Financial Services (CFS), into a tailspin
and bankruptcy. Even although the business partner told the prosecutors that he
had acted independently and without Bartmann's knowledge, the US Attorney
General, John Ashcroft indicted Bill Bartmann on 57 counts of fraud.
His finances in ruins and his reputation now in tatters, Bartmann began the long defense process. The trial took place 5 years later and lasted 2 months.
Bill Bartmann was indicted on 57 federal felony counts in 2002; Attorney General, John Ashcroft alleged that he was guilty of making fake transactions to shell companies in order to falsify his balance sheet.
His finances in ruins and his reputation now in tatters, Bartmann began the long defense process. The trial took place 5 years later and lasted 2 months.
Bill Bartmann was indicted on 57 federal felony counts in 2002; Attorney General, John Ashcroft alleged that he was guilty of making fake transactions to shell companies in order to falsify his balance sheet.
Bill Bartmann said, “Ashcroft’s action was after
two grand juries voted not to indict. I didn’t know if it was a slow new week
at the Justice Department or whether he hoped to find the next Enron-type
scandal. All I knew was that I faced a cumulative 600 years in prison if
convicted.
To make matters worse, the law firm that Bartmann
hired to represent him quit on the day the trial was due to start. His request
for a period of 2 weeks to appoint new attorneys was denied. So Bartmann
represented himself.
The government called 53 witnesses and produced
over 1,000 exhibits. Bartmann didn't call a single witness. Nor did he produce
any exhibits. However, he did cross-examine one witness - someone from the
treasury department.
You see, the whole case turned on a single
document and the date on that document. Was the date accurate or had the
document been doctored?
Bill maintained that the document had been signed
a couple of years earlier before his partner committed the crime. If this was
the case this would prove that he had nothing to do with the crimes committed
by his partner. The government held the view that the document had been
altered.
After 3 days of cross-examining the witness
finally revealed that in a report submitted to the Justice Department he had
stated the odds were 60 million to one that the document had been tampered
with. Bartmann had not seen this report prior to the trial.
When the jury heard this evidence it was a matter
of case closed. The jury unanimously acquitted Bill Bartmann of all 57 counts.
Bill Bartmann was a free man but the cost of this
trial had been enormous. It had caused the demise of CFS along with the jobs of
3,900 people. And Bartmann had to file for bankruptcy.
So he had much to be bitter, even angry, about.
However, he decided to forgive all those who had wronged him. One of the
toughest acts of forgiveness was forgiving John Ashcroft - the man who indicted
him despite having evidence that proved his innocence.
Bartmann was away giving a speech when he
discovered that John Ashcroft was due to be in town the next day as part of his
book signing tour. So he decided to stay an extra day so he could meet him in
person.
At the book signing, like the others present,
Bartmann had to wear a name tag so he wrote on his "Hello my name is
Bill".
When it was his turn at the book signing desk John
Ashcroft greeted him.
"Bill! Where're you from, Bill."
"Well, Mr Ashcroft, I'm from Tulsa."
"Oh we had a big case there a couple of years
ago."
"Yes, I know. It was mine."
Well, as you can imagine, the smile that was on
John Ashcroft's face disappeared and he suddenly looked grey. The politician
was at a loss for words. Bartmann continued,
"Mr Ashcroft, you knew now as you knew then
that I was innocent before you indicted me. And your actions cost 39 hundred
people their job, cost me 3.5 billion dollars and cost my family an undue
amount of anguish. Mr Ashcroft I came here for one reason."
Tension hung heavy in the air.
He extended his hand and John Ashcroft
instinctively took it. Bill Bartmann shook his hand, looked directly into his
eyes and said.
"Mr Ashcroft, I forgive you."
With that he turned around and walked away
oblivious of Ashcroft's reaction. It didn't matter.
Although, it may not have seemed like it at the time,
Bill Bartmann's willingness to forgive those who wronged him actually empowered
him to rebuild his life. Instead of being down and out he has gone from
strength to strength and is helping even more people.
And then I (Regan) emailed him and asked him these questions:
First, is the story I found true?
First, is the story I found true?
Yes, the story
is true.
Second, what did you
feel as a result of that experience?
I felt
relieved that I had put that entire chapter behind me with three words - I forgive
you.
Third, was it hard to do?
No, it was
not hard. I knew what would happen when
I accomplished it so I was looking forward to it.
And finally, How do you think this experience has changed
you?
Read
opening Paragraph of Oswald Chamber's devotional for Nov 5th from "My
utmost for his Highest "
November 5th, My Utmost For His Highest:
“If you are going to be used by God, He will take you through a multitude of experiences that are not meant for you at all, they are meant to make you useful in His hands, and to enable you to understand what transpires in other souls so that you will never be surprised at what you come across. Oh, I can't deal with that person. Why not? God gave you ample opportunity to soak before Him on that line, and you barged off because it seemed stupid to spend time in that way.”
November 5th, My Utmost For His Highest:
“If you are going to be used by God, He will take you through a multitude of experiences that are not meant for you at all, they are meant to make you useful in His hands, and to enable you to understand what transpires in other souls so that you will never be surprised at what you come across. Oh, I can't deal with that person. Why not? God gave you ample opportunity to soak before Him on that line, and you barged off because it seemed stupid to spend time in that way.”
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