WANTED

It's time to hear His voice,
It is time to seek His kingdom,
It is time to simplify,
It is time to love Him with all our soul, heart and strength,
It is time to commune with Him alone in the secret place!
Author Unknown

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When you get too old for Daddy's kiss
about Father's love for his child

author - anonymous / taken from Orange Hills Assembly of God Church



The Board Meeting had come to an end. Bob started to stand up and jostled the table, spilling his coffee over his notes. "How embarrassing. I am getting so clumsy in my old age." Everyone had a good laugh, and soon we were all telling stories of our most embarrassing moments. It came around to Frank who sat quietly listening to the others.

The Pastor said, "Come on, Frank. Tell us your most embarrassing moment."

Frank laughed and began to tell us of his childhood. "I grew up in San Pedro. My Dad was a fisherman, and he loved the sea. He had his own boat, but it was hard making a living on the sea. He worked hard and would stay out until he caught enough to feed the family. Not just enough for our family, but also for his Mom and Dad and the other kids that were still at home."

He looked at us and said, "I wish you could have met my Dad. He was a big man, and he was strong from pulling the nets and fighting the seas for his catch. When you got close to him, he smelled like the ocean. He would wear his old canvas, foul-weather coat and his bibbed overalls. His rain hat would be pulled down over his brow. No matter how much my Mother washed them, they would still smell of the sea and of fish."

Frank's voice dropped a bit, "When the weather was bad he would drive me to school. He had this old truck that he used in his fishing business. That truck was older than he was. It would wheeze and rattle down the road. You could hear it coming for blocks. As he would drive toward the school, I would shrink down into the seat hoping to disappear. Half the time, he would slam to a stop and the old truck would belch a cloud of smoke. He would pull right up in front, and it seemed like everybody would be standing around and watching. Then he would lean over and give me a big kiss on the cheek and tell me to be a good boy. It was so embarrassing for me. Here, I was twelve years old, and my Dad would kiss me goodbye!"

He paused and then went on, "I remember the day I decided I was too old for a goodbye kiss. When we got to the school and came to a stop, he had his usual big smile. He started to lean toward me, but I put my hand up and said, 'No, Dad.' It was the first time I had ever talked to him that way, and he had this surprised look on his face."

I said, "Dad, I'm too old for a goodbye kiss. I'm too old for any kind of kiss."

"My Dad looked at me for the longest time, and his eyes started to tear up. I had never seen him cry. He turned and looked out the windshield."

"You're right," he said. "You are a big boy....a man. I won't kiss you anymore."

Frank got a funny look on his face, and the tears began to well up in his eyes, as he spoke. "It wasn't long after that when my Dad went to sea and never came back. It was a day when most of the fleet stayed in, but not Dad. He had a big family to feed. They found his boat adrift with its nets half in and half out. He must have gotten into a gale and was trying to save the nets and the floats."

I looked at Frank and saw that tears were running down his cheeks.

Frank spoke again. "Guys, you don't know what I would give to have my Dad give me just one more kiss on the cheek....to feel his rough old face....to smell the ocean on him....to feel his arm around my neck. I wish I had been a man then. If I had been a man, I would never have told my Dad I was too old for a goodbye kiss."

I don't know about the rest of the guys, but I wanted more than anything to put my arms around my Dad let him know just how special he was to me.



It is so easy to forget to tell people how important they are to us, especially our parents. If you are lucky enough to still have your dad around, then go and see him. Tell him how much you love and appreciate him. And if you can, put your arms around him, give him kiss on the cheek, and let him know that he is the most important man in your life.

We have another Father that loves us and who has cared for us. He is our Father in Heaven. No matter how much your dad loved you, your Father in Heaven loves you much, much more. He is reaching out to you right now and He wants you to know that He cares. Just open your heart and receive His love, and tell Him that you love Him, too.

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A Love Story

author - anonymous



One day, I woke early in the morning to watch the sunrise. Ah the beauty of God's creation is beyond description. As I watched, I praised God for His beautiful work. As I sat there, I felt the Lord's presence with me.

He asked me,

"Do you love me?"

I answered,

"Of course, God! You are my Lord and Saviour!"

*******************************************

Then He asked,

"If you were physically handicapped, would you still love me?"

I was perplexed. I looked down upon my arms, legs and the rest of my body and wondered how many things I wouldn't be able to do, the things that I took for granted.

And I answered, "It would be tough Lord, but I would still love You."

*******************************************

Then the Lord said,

"If you were blind, would you still love my creation?"

How could I love something without being able to see it? Then I thought of all the blind people in the world and how many of them still loved God and His creation.

So I answered, "Its hard to think of it, but I would still love you."

*******************************************

The Lord then asked me,



"If you were deaf, would you still listen to my word?"

How could I listen to anything being deaf? Then I understood. Listening to God's Word is not merely using our ears, but our hearts.

I answered, "It would be tough, but I would still listen to Your word."

*******************************************

The Lord then asked, "If you were mute, would you still praise My Name?"

How could I praise without a voice?

Then it occurred to me: God wants us to sing from our very heart and soul. It never matters what we sound like. And praising God is not always with a song, but when we are persecuted, we give God praise with our words of thanks.

So I answered, "Though I could not physically sing, I would still praise Your Name."

*******************************************

And the Lord asked, "Do you really love Me?"

With courage and a strong conviction, I answered boldly,

"Yes Lord! I love You because You are the one and true God!"

I thought I had answered well, but God asked,

"THEN WHY DO YOU SIN?"

I answered, "Because I am only human. I am not perfect."

"THEN WHY IN TIMES OF PEACE DO YOU STRAY THE FURTHEST? WHY ONLY IN TIMES OF TROUBLE DO YOU PRAY THE EARNEST?"

No answers. Only tears.

The Lord continued: "Why only sing at fellowships and retreats? Why seek Me only in times of worship? Why ask things so selfishly? Why ask things so unfaithfully?"

The tears continued to roll down my cheeks.

"Why are you ashamed of Me? Why are you not spreading the good news? Why in times of persecution, you cry to others when I offer My shoulder to cry on? Why make excuses when I give you opportunities to serve in My Name?"

I tried to answer, but there was no answer to give.

"You are blessed with life. I made you not to throw this gift away. I have blessed you with talents to serve Me, but you continue to turn away. I have revealed My Word to you, but you do not gain in knowledge. I have spoken to you but your ears were closed. I have shown My blessings to you, but your eyes were turned away. I have sent you servants, but you sat idly by as they were pushed away. I have heard your prayers and I have answered them all."

"DO YOU TRULY LOVE ME ?"

I could not answer. How could I? I was embarrassed beyond belief. I had no excuse. What could I say to this? When my heart had cried out and the tears had flowed, I said, "Please forgive me Lord. I am unworthy to be Your child."

The Lord answered, " That is My Grace, My child."

I asked, " Then why do you continue to forgive me? Why do You love me so?"

The Lord answered,

" Because you are My creation. You are my child. I will never abandon you. When you cry, I will have compassion and cry with you. When you shout with joy, I will laugh with you. When you are down, I will encourage you. When you fall, I will raise you up. When you are tired, I will carry you. I will be with you till the end of days, and I will love you forever."

Never had I cried so hard before. How could I have been so cold? How could I have hurt God as I had done?

I asked God,

"How much do You love me?"

The Lord stretched out His arms, and I saw His nail-pierced hands.

Bowed down at the feet of Christ, my Saviour.

And for the first time, I truly prayed.

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Let's put it all together
about sharing in the being of God

author - anonymous



Some of you remember when they had the old-fashioned Sunday School Picnics? It was before air conditioning. They'd say "let's all meet a Menard Park at 27th Blvd at 4:30 Saturday-- you bring your supper and we will furnish the tea.

You came home at the last minute and got ready to pack your lunch. All you could find in the refrigerator was one dried up piece of bologna and just enough mustard in the bottom of the jar so that you got it all over your knuckles when you tried to get it out, and there was only two stale pieces of bread. So you made your bologna sandwich and wrapped it in some brown bag. So off to the picnic you went.

When it came time to eat you sat at the end of the table and spread out your sandwich, but the folks next to you--the lady was a good cook. She had worked all day and had fried chicken, baked beans, potato salad, home made rolls, sliced tomatoes, pickles, olives, celery and to top it off, two great big home made chocolate pies. They spread it all out before you and there you were with your bologna sandwich; but they said to you "Why don't we just put it all together".

Oh, Oh, Oh, No! I couldn't do that--I couldn't even think of it you murmurred, embarassed. Aw come on, there's plenty of Chicken, plenty of pie, plenty of everything and we just love bologna sandwiches--let's just put it all together. So you did, and there you sat--eating like a KING when you came like a Pauper. And I get to thinking---- I think of ME, sharing in the very being of GOD. When I think of how little I bring and how much He brings and that He invites me to SHARE, I know I should be shouting to the housetops, but I'm so filled with AWE and wonder that I can hardly speak.

I know I don't have enough LOVE and FAITH, or GRACE, or MERCY or Wisdom, but HE has. He has all those things in abundance and HE says"Let's put it all together". Everything I possess is available to you-- every-thing I am and can be to a person, I will be to you. And when I think about it like that it really amuses me to see somebody running around through life hanging on to their dumb bag or their stale bologna sandwich saying "God's not going to get my sandwich--no siree, not mine. Did you ever see somebody like that? Just so needy--just about half starved to death, hanging on for dear life.

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Untitled
about helping

author - anonymous



He was driving home one evening, on a two-lane country road. Work, in this small mid-western community, was almost as slow as his beat-up Pontiac. But he never quit looking. Ever since the Levis factory closed, he'd been unemployed, and with winter raging on, the chill had finally hit home.

It was a lonely road. Not very many people had a reason to be on it, unless they were leaving. Most of his friends had already left. They had families to feed and dreams to fulfill. But he stayed on. After all, this was where he buried his mother and father. He was born here and knew the country. He could go down this road blind, and tell you what was on either side, and with his headlights not working, that came in handy. It was starting to get dark and light snow flurries were coming down. He'd better get a move on. You know, he almost didn't see the old lady, stranded on the side of the road. But even in the dim light of day, he could see she needed help. So he pulled up in front of her Mercedes and got out. His Pontiac was still sputtering when he approached her. Even with the smile on his face, she was worried. No one had stopped to help for the last hour or so. Was he going to hurt her? He didn't look safe, he looked poor and hungry. He could see that she was frightened, standing out there in the cold. He knew how she felt. It was that chill that only fear can put in you.

He said, "I'm here to help you m'am. Why don't you wait in the car where it's warm. By the way, my name is Joe."

Well, all she had was a flat tire, but for an old lady, that was bad enough Joe crawled under the car looking for a place to put the jack, skining his knuckles a time or two. Soon he was able to change the tire. But he had to get dirty and his hands hurt. As he was tightening up the lug nuts, she rolled down her window and began to talk to him. She told him that she was from St. Louis and was only just passing through. She couldn't thank him enough for coming to her aid. Joe just smiled as he closed her trunk. She asked him how much she owed him. Any amount would have been alright with her. She had already imagined all the awful things that could have happened had he not stopped. Joe never thought twice about the money. This was not a job to him. This was helping someone in need, and God knows there were plenty who had given him a hand in the past. He had lived his whole life that way, and it never occurred to him to act any other way. He told her that if she really wanted to pay him back, the next time she saw someone who needed help, she could give that person the assistance that they needed, and Joe added "...and think of me".

He waited until she started her car and drove off. It had been a cold and depressing day, but he felt good as he headed for home, disappearing into the twilight. A few miles down the road the lady saw a small cafe. She went in to grab a bite to eat, and take the chill off before she made the last leg of her trip home. It was a dingy looking restaurant. Outside were two old gas pumps. The whole scene was unfamiliar to her. The cash register was like the telephone of an out of work actor, it didn't ring much. Her waitress came over and brought a clean towel to wipe her wet hair. She had a sweet smile, one that even being on her feet for the whole day couldn't erase. The lady noticed that the waitress was nearly eight months pregnant, but she never let the strain and aches change her attitude. The old lady wondered how someone who had so little could be so giving to a stranger. Then she remembered Joe. After the lady finished her meal, and the waitress went to get her change from a hundred dollar bill, the lady slipped right out the door. She was gone by the time the waitress came back. She wondered where the lady could be, then she noticed something written on a napkin. There were tears in her eyes, when she read what the lady wrote. It said, "You don't owe me a thing, I've been there too. Someone once helped me out, the way I'm helping you. If you really want to pay me back, here's what you do. Don't let the chain of love end with you." Well, there were tables to clear, sugar bowls to fill, and people to serve, but the waitress made it through another day.

That night when she got home from work and climbed into bed, she was thinking about the money and what the lady had written. How could she have known how much she and her husband needed it? With the baby due next month, it was going to be hard. She knew how worried her husband was, and as he lay sleeping next to her, she gave him a soft kiss and whispered soft and low, "Everything's gonna be alright, I love you Joe."

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"NEVER FOUND TIME"

author unknown

I knelt to pray, but not for long
I had too much to do
Must hurry off and get to work,
For bills would soon be due.

And so I said a hurried prayer,
Jumped up from off my knees,
My Christian duties now were done,
My soul could be at ease.

All through the day I had no time
To speak a word of cheer;
No time to speak of Christ to friends,
They'd laugh at me I feared.

No time, no time, too much to do.
That was my constant cry;
No time to give to those in need--
At last was time to die.

And when before the Lord I came,
I stood with downcast eyes;
Within His hands He held a book--
It was the "Book of Life."

God looked into His book and said,
"Your name I cannot find,
I once was going to write it down,
But never found the time."

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The ABC's of Success

Avoid working just for power and money
Be honest, reliable, faithful, and aggressive
Choose your friends carefully
Don't be afraid to take risks
Establish goals and work systematically toward achieving them
Free Rides don't exist
Get it Done
Have confidence that you can make a difference
Invite constructive criticism
Just doing enough to get by won't get it done
Keep from making excuses
Listen, Learn, and always work to improve your mind
Mean what you say, and say what you mean
Never ever give up on your dreams
Only one person can control you, and that's you
Pray
Quality, not quantity
Respect Others
Sometimes, slow down and smell the roses
Treat others with respect, and they'll respect you
Use your assets wisely
Voice your opinions
Work as hard as possible without forgetting your loved ones
Xpect obstacles but accept challenges
You are  responsible for your actions
Zap obstacles and reach for Jesus.

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A Disciple Of The Lord Jesus Christ

Out of Africa comes a story of bravery and boldness in Christ that we in America need to hear. There was an young African pastor who was caught in the struggle between an Islamic rebel force and the existing government of his nation. When his village was overwhelmed by rebels, they demanded that he renounce his faith. He refused. The night before they took his life, he wrote the following lines on a scrap of paper:

I am part of the "Fellowship of the Unashamed." I have Holy Spirit power. The die has been cast. I've stepped over the line. The decision has been made. I am a disciple of His. I won't look back, let up, slow down, back away, or be still. My past is redeemed, my present makes sense, and my future is secure. I am finished and done with low living, sight walking, small planning, smooth knees, colorless dreams, tame visions, mundane talking, chintzy giving, and dwarfed goals!

I no longer need preeminence, prosperity, position, promotions, plaudits, or popularity. I don't have to be right, first, tops, recognized, praised, regarded, or rewarded. I now live by presence, lean by faith, love by patience, lift by prayer, and labor by power.

My face is set, my gait is fast, my goal is heaven, my road is narrow, my way is rough, my companions few, my Guide reliable, my mission clear. I cannot be bought , compromised, detoured, lured away, turned back, diluted, or delayed. I will not flinch in the face of sacrifice, hesitate in the presence of adversity, negotiate at the table of the enemy, ponder at the pool of popularity, or meander in the maze of mediocrity.

I won't give up, shut up, let up, or burn up till I've preached up, prayed up, paid up, stored up, and stayed up for the cause of Christ.

I am a disciple of Jesus. I must go till He comes, give till I drop, preach till all know, and work till He stops.

And when He comes to get His own, He'll have no problems

recognizing me. My colors will be clear.

Lord, develop in me the perseverance and faithfulness to pursue Your goal for my life even in the face of rejection.

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Faith To Move Mountains..

A small congregation in the foothills of the Great Smoky Mountains built a new sanctuary on a piece of land willed to them by a church member. Ten days before the new church was to open, the local building inspector informed the pastor that the parking lot was inadequate for the size of the building.

Until the church doubled the size of the parking lot, they would not be able to use the new sanctuary. Unfortunately, the church with its undersized parking lot had used every inch of their land except for the mountain against which it had been built. In order to build more parking spaces, they would have to move the mountain out of the back yard.

Undaunted, the pastor announced the next Sunday morning that he would meet that evening with all members who had "mountain moving faith." They would hold a prayer session asking God to remove the mountain from the back yard and to somehow provide enough money to have it paved and painted before the scheduled opening dedication service the following week.

At the appointed time, 24 of the congregation's 300 members assembled for prayer. They prayed for nearly three hours. At ten o'clock the pastor said the final "Amen". "We'll open next Sunday as scheduled," he assured everyone. "God has never let us down before, and I believe He will be faithful this time too."

The next morning as he was working in his study there came a loud knock at his door. When he called "come in", a rough looking construction foreman appeared, removing his hard hat as he entered. "Excuse me, Reverend. I'm from Acme Construction Company over in the next county. We're building a huge new shopping mall over there and we need some fill dirt. Would you be willing to sell us a chunk of that mountain behind the church? We'll pay you for the dirt we remove and pave all the exposed area free of charge, if we can have it right away. We can't do anything else until we get the dirt in and allow it to settle properly."

The little church was dedicated the next Sunday as originally planned and there were far more members with "mountain moving faith" on opening Sunday than there had been the previous week!

Would you have shown up for that prayer meeting? Some people say faith comes from miracles. But others know: Miracles Come From Faith!

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The Room

In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in the room. There were no distinguishing features save for the one wall covered with small index cardfiles. They were like the ones in libraries that list titles by author or subject in alphabetical order.  But these files, which stretched from floor to ceiling and seemingly endlessly in either direction, had very different headings. As I drew near the wall of files, the first to catch my attention was one that read "Girls I have liked". I opened it and began flipping through the cards. I quickly shut it, shocked to realize that I recognized the names written on each one. And then without being told, I knew exactly where I was. This lifeless room with its small files was a crude catalog system for my life. Here were written the actions of my every moment, big and small, in a detail my memory couldn't match. A sense of wonder and curiosity, coupled with horror, stirred within me as I began randomly opening files and exploring their content. Some brought joy and sweet memories; others a sense of shame and regret so intense that I would look over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching. A file named "Friends" was next to one marked "Friends I have betrayed". The titles ranged from the mundane to the outright weird. "Books I have read", "Lies I have told", "Comfort I have given", "Jokes I have laughed at". Some were almost hilarious in their exactness: Things I've yelled at My Brother." Others I couldn't laugh at: "Things I Have Done in My Anger", "Things I Have Muttered Under My Breath at My Parents". I never ceased to be surprised by the contents. Often there were many more cards than I expected. Sometimes less than I hoped. The sheer volume of the life I had lived overwhelmed me. Could it be possible that I had the time in my 29 years to write each of these thousands or even millions of cards? But each card confirmed this truth. Each was written in my own handwriting. Each signed with my signature. When I pulled out the file marked "Songs I Have Listened To", I realized the files grew to contain their contents. The cards were packed tightly, and yet after two or three yards, I hadn't found the end of the file. I shut it, shamed, not so much by the quality of music, but more by the vast amount of time I knew that file represented. When I came to a file marked "Lustful Thoughts"; I felt a chill run through my body. I pulled the file out only an inch, not willing to test its size, and drew out a card. I shuddered at its detailed content. I felt sick to think that such a moment had been recorded. An almost animal rage broke on me. One thought dominated my mind: "No one must ever see these cards! No one must ever see this room! I have to destroy them!" In an insane frenzy I yanked the file out. Its size didn't matter now. I had to empty it and burn the cards. But as I took it at one end and began pounding it on the floor, I could not dislodge a single card. I became desperate and pulled out a card, only to find it as strong as steel when I tried to tear it. Defeated and utterly helpless, I returned the file to its slot. Leaning my forehead against the wall, I let out a long, self-pitying sigh. And then I saw it. The title bore "People I Have Shared the Gospel with". The handle was brighter than those around it were, newer, almost unused. I pulled on its handle and a small box not more than three inches long fell into my hands. I could count the cards it contained on one hand. And then the tears came. I began to weep. Sobs so deep that the hurt started in my stomach and shook through me. I fell on my knees and cried. I cried out of shame, from the overwhelming shame of it all. The rows of file shelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes. No one must ever, ever know of this room. I must lock it up and hide the key. But then as I pushed away the tears, I saw Him. No, please not Him. Not here. Oh, anyone but Jesus. I watched helplessly as He began to open the files and read the cards. I couldn't bear to watch His response. And in the moments I could bring myself to look at His face, I saw a sorrow deeper than my own. He seemed to intuitively go to the worst boxes. Why did He have to read every one? Finally He turned and looked at me from across the room. He looked at me with pity in His eyes. But this was a pity that didn't anger me. I dropped my head, covered my face with my hands and began to cry again. He walked over and put His arm around me. He could have said so many things. But He didn't say a word. He just cried with me. Then He got up and walked back to the wall of files. Starting at one end of the room, He took out a file and, one by one, began to sign His name over mine on each card. "No!" I shouted rushing to Him. All I could find to say was "No, no," as I pulled the card from Him. His name shouldn't be on these cards. But there it was, written in red so rich, so dark, so alive. The name of Jesus covered mine. It was written with His blood. He gently took the card back. He smiled a sad smile and began to sign the cards. I don't think I'll ever understand how He did it so quickly, but the next instant it seemed I heard Him close the last file and walk back to my side. He placed His hand on my shoulder and said, "It is finished."

Author Unknown

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Does God Exist?

A college student was in a philosophy class which had a discussion about God's existence.  The professor presented the following logic: "Has anyone in this class heard God?"

Nobody spoke.

"Has anyone in this class touched God?"

Again, nobody spoke.

"Has anyone in this class seen God?"

When nobody spoke for the third time, he simply stated,

"Then there is no God."

One student thought for a second, and then asked for permission to reply. Curious to hear this bold student's response, the professor granted it, and the student stood up and asked the following questions of his classmates:  

"Has anyone in this class heard our professor's brain?"

Silence.

"Has anyone in this class touched our professor's brain?"

Absolute silence.

"Has anyone in this class seen our professor's brain?"

When nobody in the class dared to speak, the student concluded, "Then, according to our professor's logic, it must be true that our professor has no brain!"

(...The student received an "A" in the class).

Author Unkown

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The Letter

Ruth went to her mailbox and there was one letter.  She picked it up and
looked at it before opening it, but then she looked at the envelope again.
There was no stamp, no postmark, only her name and address.  She read the
letter.
Dear Ruth,
I am going to be in your neighborhood on Saturday afternoon and I would like
to stop by for a visit.
Love Always,
Jesus

Her hands were shaking as she placed the letter on the table. "Why would the
Lord want to visit me? I'm nobody special. I don't have anything to offer."
With that thought Ruth remembered her empty kitchen cabinets. "Oh my
goodness, I really don't have anything to offer. I'll have to run down to
the store and buy something for dinner."
She reached for her purse and counted out the contents.  Five dollars and
forty cents.
"Well, I can get some bread and coldcuts, at least."  She threw on her coat
and hurried out the door.  A loaf of french bread, a half a pound of sliced
turkey, and a carton of milk."  Leaving Ruth with a grand total of 12 cents
to last until Monday.  Nonetheless, she felt good as she headed home, her
meager offering tucked under her arm.
"Hey lady, can you help us?"  Ruth had been so absorbed in her dinner plans,
she hadn't even noticed two figures huddled in the allyway.
A man and a woman, both of them dressed in little more than rags.  "Look
lady, I ain't got a job, ya know, and my wife and I have been living out
here on the street and well, now its getting cold and we're getting kinda
hungry and well, if you could help us, lady, we'd really appreciate it."
Ruth looked at them both.  They were dirty, they smelled bad and frankly she
was certain they could get some kind of work if they really wanted to.
"Sir, I'd like to help you, but I'm a poor woman myself.  All I have is a
few cold cuts and some bread, and I'm having an important guest for dinner
tonight and I was planning on serving that to Him."
"Yeah, well, okay lady. I understand. Thanks anyway."  The manput his arm
around the woman's shoulders, turned and headed back into the ally.
As she watched them leave, Ruth felt a familier twinge in her heart.
"Sir, wait!"  the couple stopped and turned as she ran down the ally after
them.  "Look, why don't you take this food.  I'll figure out something else
to serve my guest."  She handed the man her grocery bag.
"Thank you lady.  Thank you very much!"
"Yes, thank you!" It was the man's wife and Ruth could see now that she was
shivering.
"You know, I've got another coat at home. Here, why don't you take this
one."  Ruth unbuttoned her jacket and slipped it over the woman's shoulders.
Then  smiling, she turned and walked back to the street without her coat and
with nothing to serve her guest.
"Thank you lady! Thank you very much!"
Ruth was chilled by the time she reached her front door, and worried too.
The Lord was coming to visit and she didn't have anything to offer Him.  She
fumbled through her purse for the door key.  But as she did, she noticed
another envelope in her mailbox.  "Thats's odd.  The mailman doesn't usually
come twice in one day."  She took the envelope out of the box and opened it.
Dear Ruth,
It was so good to see you again.  Thank you for the lovely meal and thank
you, too, for the beautiful coat.
Love always,
Jesus

The air still cold, but even without her coat, Ruth no longer noticed.

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Qualifications For Working For God