A Spiritual Guide

Encouraging Stories & Poems are stories or poems by every day people like you and me to help inspire and encourage you through successful and difficult times

I saw Jesus last week.
He was wearing blue jeans and an old shirt.
He was up at the church building.
He was alone and working hard.
For just a minute he looked a little like one of our members.
But it was Jesus ... I could tell by his smile.

I saw Jesus last Sunday.
He was teaching a Bible class.
He didn't talk real loud or use long words,
But you could tell he believed what he said.
For just a minute, he looked like my Bible teacher.
But it was Jesus ... I could tell by his loving voice.

I saw Jesus yesterday.
He was at the hospital visiting a friend who was sick.
They prayed together quietly.
For just a minute he looked like Brother Jones.
But it was Jesus ... I could tell by the tears in his eyes.

I saw Jesus this morning.
He was in my kitchen making my breakfast and fixing me a special lunch.
For just a minute he looked like my mom.
But it was Jesus ... I could feel the love from his heart.

I see Jesus everywhere,
Taking food to the sick ... Welcoming others to his home,
Being friendly to a newcomer ... & for just a minute,
I think he's someone I know.
But it's always Jesus ... I can tell by the way he serves.
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My Child, 
Before time began, I knew you. Before there was light, 
I loved you. And I still do. I made you and know everything 
about you. You're on my mind every minute of the day. I know 
your hurts, your joys, your secrets. Yes, I know everything 
you have done... And I still love you. I want you to know me 
as your Father. I want you to know just how wonderful life 
really is. My arms are open wide for you. 

What you owed me has been paid in full. I want you to be with 
me forever. I will never lie to you, nor play mind games with 
you. I will never bring up past sins that I have forgiven to 
degrade you. I am your father. And I will never leave you. I 
will always be with you ... at school. At work. At home. In 
the silent corners of your mind when you don't feel loved. I 
am with you. You see, you are so special to me. I want you to 
know how much I love you and want you to really understand 
what I have done for you. 

You are my chosen child, adopted to be the heir of all I have. 
When you are scared or have questions, come to me. I accept 
you just as you are. And because my compassion for you is so 
deep I won't settle for leaving you the way you are. With love 
I will mold you and change you and transform you to be like my 
Son Jesus. 

In the mean time, trust me and enjoy being my child. 
I love being your Father! 

With Love, 
God 
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God won't ask what kind of car you drove.
He will ask how many people you took to church in it.

God won't ask the floor area of your house.
He will ask how many people you helped in it.

God won't ask how many fancy clothes you had in your closet.
He will ask how many of those clothes you gave to others
in need of them.

God won't ask what social class you were in.
He will ask what kind of "class" you displayed.

God won't ask how many material possessions you had.
He will ask whether those material possessions dictated
your life.

God won't ask what your highest salary was.
He will ask if you trampled over anybody to obtain that salary.

God won't ask how much overtime you worked.
He will ask if you worked overtime for your family.

God won't ask how many promotions you received.
He will ask what you did to promote others.

God won't ask what your job title was.
He will ask if you performed your job
to the best of your ability.

God won't ask how many promotions you took.
He will ask how many promotions you refused
in order to advance your family's quality of life.

God won't ask how many times you didn't run around
after your spouse.
He will ask how many times you did.

God won't ask how many degrees you had.
He will ask how many people you thanked
for helping you get those degrees.

God won't ask what your parents did to help you.
He will ask what you did to help your parents.

God won't ask what you did to help yourself.
He will ask what you did to help others.

God won't ask how many friends you had.
He will ask how many people you befriended.

God won't ask what you did to protect your rights.
He will ask what you did to protect the rights of others.

God won't ask what neighborhood you lived in.
He will ask what other neighborhoods you visited.

God won't ask how many times you told the truth.
He will ask how many times you told a lie.

God won't ask about the color of your skin.
He will ask about the color of your heart.

God won't ask how many times your deeds
matched your words.
He will ask how many times they didn't.
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Each morning when I wake I say,
"I place my hand in God's today;"
I know He'll walk close by my side
My every wandering step to guide.

He leads me with the tenderest care
When paths are dark and I despair---
No need for me to understand
If I but hold fast to His hand.

My hand in His! No surer way
to walk in safety through each day.
By His great bounty I am fed;
Warmed by His love, and comforted.

When at day's end I seek my rest
And realize how much I'm blessed,
My thanks pour out to Him; and then
I place my hand in God's again.

By Florence Scripps Kellogg
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The Master was searching for a vessel to use;
On the shelf there were many - which one would He choose?
Take me, cried the gold one, I'm shiny and bright,
I'm of great value and I do things just right.
My beauty and luster will outshine the rest
And for someone like You, Master, gold would be the best!

The Master passed on with no word at all;
He looked at a silver urn, narrow and tall;
I'll serve You, dear Master, I'll pour out Your wine
And I'll be at Your table whenever You dine,
My lines are so graceful, my carvings so true,
And my silver will always compliment You.

Unheeding the Master passed on to the brass,
It was widemouthed and shallow, and polished like glass.
Here! Here! cried the vessel, I know I will do,
Place me on Your table for all men to view.

Look at me, called the goblet of crystal so clear,
My transparency shows my contents so dear,
Though fragile am I, I will serve You with pride,
And I'm sure I'll be happy in Your house to abide.

The Master came next to a vessel of wood,
Polished and carved, it solidly stood.
You may use me, dear Master, the wooden bowl said,
But I'd rather You used me for fruit, not for bread!

Then the Master looked down and saw a vessel of clay.
Empty and broken it helplessly lay.
No hope had the vessel that the Master might choose,
To cleanse and make whole, to fill and to use.

Ah! This is the vessel I've been hoping to find,
I will mend and use it and make it all Mine.
I need not the vessel with pride of its self;
Nor the one who is narrow to sit on the shelf;
Nor the one who is bigmouthed and shallow and loud;
Nor one who displays his contents so proud;
Not the one who thinks he can do all things just right;
But this plain earthy vessel filled with My power and might.

Then gently He lifted the vessel of clay.
Mended and cleansed it and filled it that day.
Spoke to it kindly. There's work you must do,
Just pour out to others as I pour into you.

By Beulah V. Cornwall

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 I was traveling with my parents a few summers ago. We were headed to my
brother's college graduation and I was pregnant with my third child. It was
hot, my other two children came along and we were getting ready to leave one
of the rest stops along Route 80. While was I throwing some cool water in my
face to get refreshed, I realized there was a soft but sad cry coming from
one of the bathroom stalls.

I wasn't sure if I should ask her if she was all right or needed help. Being
seven months pregnant and away from home, I was leery about strangers and
humbling myself to help someone. As I was thinking, she stepped out of the
bathroom stall. I turned to ask if she was OK and she yelped. "I didn't know
anyone was in here, it was so quiet I thought I was alone," she said. I felt
foolish. "I am sorry if you are embarrassed," I said, "I was just leaving.
Unless you need someone to talk too." As she responded with a nod, I looked
at her closer. She had bruises on her shoulder and neck, and one on the side
of her face. "I am not sure if it's my business, but you really should have
those sores looked at by a doctor." I tried to encourage her. "I am very far
from home" she said, just about bursting to tears again. "I am a couple of
states away from my home too," I said, trying to calm her down. "He beats
me, and everyone knew it was wrong but me," she told me in a very quiet
withdrawn voice, almost like she was wondering if it really was true. I
said, "Absolutely! It's wrong because you are a precious gift from God and
He hurts when your hurting, and cries when you cry." She looked at me and
said, "No one has ever described God like that to me. I thought God would be
angry that I didn't stay with my husband and try to work it out." I told her
that I believed in a loving, compassionate and tender-hearted, just, God who
wants the very best for His children. But we should not run away from our
responsibilities. "Your husband had no right to take his anger out on you,
whether it was because of something you did, or said, or that he had a bad
day." I told her of relationships that I had been in that were abusive and
that it was no way a life that God would want for anyone. Even though God
wants marriage to work, He wants us to be safe and free to be what He has
made us to be. Her eyes filled with tears again and she said thank you.

I walked out of the bathroom and walked down the sidewalk where my parents
and two children were playing. I thought of all the things I liked in my
parents and in my husband -- the love, laughter, the forgiveness, and
restoration that comes in knowing your mate. Then I remembered my commitment
to God and that is when I started to cry. I cried for the strength that my
husband and I could raise our two boys in a way that they respect woman as
precious gifts from God, and for the hope our daughter in knowing her faith,
loving her husband with her all, will never weep in a bathroom stall running
from fear.

My heart goes out to any and everyone who has been abused in their life, and
I pray God's love and peace upon you, strength to be true to yourself, and
in knowing that God loves you.

Just be honest with yourself and to God -- He wants to help. -

Tracy Tyson

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His name is Bill. He has wild hair, wears a T-shirt with holes in it, jeans,
and no shoes. This was literally his wardrobe for his entire four years
of college. He is brilliant. Kind of esoteric and very, very bright. He
became a Christian while attending college.

Across the street from the campus is a well-dressed, very conservative
church. They want to develop a ministry to the students, but are not sure
how to go about it. One day Bill decides to go there.
He walks in with no shoes, jeans, his T-shirt, and wild hair. The service
has already started and so Bill starts down the aisle looking for a seat.
The church is completely packed and he can't find a seat. By now
people are really looking a bit uncomfortable, but no one says anything.
Bill gets closer and closer and closer to the pulpit and, when he realizes
there are no seats, he just squats down right on the carpet. (Although
perfectly acceptable behavior at a college fellowship, trust me, this had
never happened before in this church).

By now the people are really uptight, and the tension in the air is thick.
About this time, the minister realizes that from way at the back of the
church, a deacon is slowly making his way toward Bill. Now the deacon
is in his eighties, has silver-gray hair, and a three-piece suit. A godly
man, very elegant, very dignified, very courtly. He walks with a cane
and, as he starts walking toward this boy, everyone is saying to them-
selves that you can't blame him for what he's going to do. How can
you expect a man of his age and of his background to understand
some college kid on the floor? It takes a long time for the man to reach
the boy. The church is utterly silent except for the clicking of the man's
cane. All eyes are focused on him. You can't even hear anyone
breathing.

The minister can't even preach the sermon until the deacon does what he
has to do. And now they see this elderly man drop his cane on the floor.
With great difficulty he lowers himself and sits down next to Bill and
worships with him so he won't be alone.

Everyone chokes up with emotion. When the minister gains control, he
says, "What I'm about to preach, you will never remember. What you have
just seen, you will never forget. Be careful how you live. You may be the
only Bible some people will ever read."

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