The Visit From The Preacher

[COLOR=darkorchid]I wanted to share this, didn’t think it fit in the joke thread.[/COLOR]

A member of a church, who previously had been
attending services regularly, stopped going. After a few
weeks, the preacher decided to visit him.

It was a chilly evening. The preacher found the man at
home alone, sitting before a blazing fire. Guessing the
reason for his preachers visit, the man welcomed him, led
him to a comfortable chair near the fireplace and waited.

The preacher made himself at home but said nothing. In
the grave silence, he contemplated the dance of the flames
around the burning logs. After some minutes, the preacher
took the fire tongs, carefully picked up a brightly burning
ember and placed it to one side of the hearth all alone then
he sat back in his chair, still silent.

The host watched all this in quiet contemplation. As
the one lone ember’s flame flickered and diminished,
there was a momentary glow and then its fire was no more.
Soon it was cold and dead.

Not a word had been spoken since the initial greeting.
The preacher glanced at his watch and realized it was time
to leave He slowly stood up, picked up the cold, dead ember
and placed it back in the middle of the fire. Immediately it
began to glow,once more with the light and warmth of the
burning coals around it.

As the preacher reached the door to leave, his host
said with a tear running down his cheek, ‘Thank you so
much for your visit and especially for the fiery sermon. I
shall be back in church next Sunday.’

We live in a world today, which tries to say too much
with too little. Consequently, few listen. Sometimes the
best sermons are the ones left unspoken.

Here’s another one for you. This one really touched my heart!

A brand new pastor and his wife, newly assigned
to their first ministry, to reopen a church
in suburban Brooklyn, arrived in early October
excited about their opportunities When they saw
their church, it was very run down and needed
much work. They set a goal to have everything
done in time to have their first service
on Christmas Eve.

They worked hard, repairing pews, plastering walls,
painting, etc, and on December 18th
were ahead of schedule and just about finished.
On December 19th a terrible tempest - a driving
rainstorm hit the area and lasted for two days.
On the 21st, the pastor went over to the church.
His heart sank when he saw that the roof had
leaked, causing a large area of plaster about
20 feet by 8 feet to fall off the front wall of the
sanctuary just behind the pulpit, beginning about
head high.

The pastor cleaned up the mess on the floor,
and not knowing what else to do but postpone
the Christmas Eve service, headed for home.

On his way he noticed that a local business was
having a flea market type bazaar sale for charity so he
stopped in. One of the items for sale was a beautiful,
handmade, ivory colored, crocheted tablecloth
with exquisite stitches, fine colours and a Cross
embroidered right in the center. It was just
the right size to cover up the hole in the church
wall. He bought it and headed back to the church.

By that time it had started to snow. An older
woman, running from the opposite direction, was
trying to catch the bus. She missed it. The pastor
invited her to wait in the warm church for
the next bus, which would come in 45 minutes.

The old woman sat in a pew and paid no attention to the pastor
while he got a ladder, hangers, etc., to put
up the tablecloth as a wall tapestry. The pastor
could hardly believe how beautiful it looked and that
it covered up the entire problem area.

Then he noticed the woman walking down the center
aisle. Her face was white as a sheet… 'Pastor,'
she asked, 'where did you get that tablecloth?'
The pastor explained. The woman asked him to check
the lower right corner to see if the initials, EBG were
crocheted into it there. They were!
These were the initials of this woman, and
she had made this tablecloth 35 years before, in Austria.

The woman could hardly believe it as the pastor
told how he had just purchased the tablecloth. The
woman explained that before the war she and
her husband were well-to-do people in Austria.
When the Nazis came, she was forced to leave.
Her husband was going to follow her the next week.
He was captured, sent to prison and never saw her
or his home again.

The pastor wanted to give her the tablecloth
but she told the pastor to keep it for the church.
The pastor insisted on driving her home. That
was the least he could do for her. She lived on the other
side of Staten Island and was only in Brooklyn
for the day for a housecleaning job.

What a wonderful service they had on Christmas
Eve. The church was almost full. The music and the
spirit were great. At the end of the service, the
pastor and his wife greeted everyone at the door
and many said that they would return.

One older man, whom the pastor recognized
from the neighborhood, continued to sit in one of the
pews and stare. The pastor wondered why the man
wasn’t leaving.

The man asked him where he had gotten the tablecloth on
the front wall, because it was identical to one
that his wife had made years ago when
they lived in Austria before the war. How
could there be two tablecloths so much alike?

He told the pastor how the Nazis had come, how he
forced his wife to flee for her safety and how he was
supposed to follow her, but he was arrested and
put in a prison. He never saw his wife or his home
again in all the 35 years in between.

The pastor asked him if he would allow the pastor to
take the old man for a little car ride. They drove to Staten
Island, to the same house where the pastor
had taken the woman three days earlier.

He helped the old man climb the three flights of
stairs to the woman’s apartment, knocked on
the door and he saw the greatest Christmas
reunion he could ever imagine.

True Story - submitted by Pastor Rob Reid.

The Knitter, That was a great one. I had tear’s reading it.

You’re welcome. Hopefully they were tears of joy because sometimes miracles DO happen to those chosen for them!


I hope you guys don’t mind if I post this one as well, I find this to be incredibly touching.

Be A Friend

One day, when I was a freshman in high school, I saw a kid from my class walking home from school. His name was Kyle. It looked like he was carrying all of his books. I thought to myself, “Why would anyone bring home all his books on a Friday? He must really be a nerd.”

I had quite a weekend planned (parties and a football game with my friends tomorrow afternoon), so I shrugged my shoulders and went on.

As I was walking, I saw a bunch of kids running toward him. They ran at him, knocking all his books out of his arms and tripping him so he landed in the dirt. His glasses went flying, and I saw them land in the grass about ten feet from him. He looked up and I saw this terrible sadness in his eyes.

My heart went out to him. So, I jogged over to him and as he crawled around looking for his glasses, I saw a tear in his eye. As I handed him his glasses, I said, “Those guys are jerks. They really should get lives.” He looked at me and said, “Hey thanks!” There was a big smile on his face.

It was one of those smiles that showed real gratitude.

I helped him pick up his books, and asked him where he lived. As it
turned out, he lived near me, so I asked him why I had never seen him before. He said he had gone to private school before now.

I would have never hung out with a private school kid before. We
talked all the way home, and I carried some of his books. He turned out to be a pretty cool kid. I asked him if he wanted to play a little football with my friends. He said yes. We hung out all weekend and the more I got to know Kyle, the more I liked him, and my friends thought the same of him.

Monday morning came, and there was Kyle with a huge stack of books again. I stopped him and said, “Boy, you are gonna really build some serious muscles with this pile of books everyday!” He just laughed and handed me half the books.

Over the next four years, Kyle and I became best friends. When we were seniors, we began to think about college. Kyle decided on Georgetown, and I was going to Duke. I knew that we would always be friends, that the miles would never be a problem. He was going to be a doctor, and I was going for business on a football scholarship.

Kyle was valedictorian of our class. I teased him all the time about
being a nerd. He had to prepare a speech for graduation.

I was so glad it wasn’t me having to get up there and speak.
Graduation day, I saw Kyle. He looked great. He was one of those guys that really found himself during high school. He filled out and
actually looked good in glasses. He had more dates than I had and all the girls loved him. Boy, sometimes I was jealous.

Today was one of those days. I could see that he was nervous about his speech. So, I smacked him on the back and said, “Hey, big guy, you’ll be great!” He looked at me with one of those looks (the really grateful one) and smiled. “Thanks,” he said.

As he started his speech, he cleared his throat, and began.
“Graduation is a time to thank those who helped you make it through those tough years. Your parents, your teachers, your siblings, maybe a coach…but mostly your friends. I am here to tell all of you that being a friend to someone is the best gift you can give them. I am going to tell you a story.”

I just looked at my friend with disbelief as he told the story of the
first day we met. He had planned to kill himself over the weekend. He talked of how he had cleaned out his locker so his Mom wouldn’t have to do it later and was carrying his stuff home.

He looked hard at me and gave me a little smile. “Thankfully, I was saved. My friend saved me from doing the unspeakable.”

I heard the gasp go through the crowd as this handsome, popular boy told us all about his weakest moment.

I saw his Mom and dad looking at me and smiling that same grateful smile. Not until that moment did I realize it’s depth.

Never underestimate the power of your actions. With one small gesture, you can change a person’s life. For better or for worse.

Yes, I have read this before and loved it. It’s nice to reread things like this.

Thanks to all of you who posted. It’s so nice to read encouraging, uplifting things.

Demonica, our minister read this one Sunday–lots of tears were shed, it is a wonderful story. linknit41

Wow, Demonica, that one is GREAT!!!