not ashamed~ a father's pray poem

Not ashamed

A young man had been to Wednesday Night Bible Study.

The Pastor had shared about listening to God and obeying the Lord's voice.

The young man couldn't help but wonder, 'Does God still speak to people?'

After service, he went out with some friends for coffee and pie and they discussed the message. Several different ones talked about how God had led them in different ways.

It was about ten o'clock when the young man started driving home. Sitting in his car, he just began to pray, 'God...If you still speak to people, speak to me. I will listen. I will do my best to obey.'

As he drove down the main street of his town, he had the strangest thought to stop and buy a gallon of milk.

He shook his head and said out loud, 'God is that you?' He didn't get a reply and started on toward home.

But again, the thought, buy a gallon of milk.

The young man thought about Samuel and how he didn't recognize the voice of God, and how little Samuel ran to Eli.

'Okay, God, in case that is you, I will buy the milk.' It didn't seem like too hard a test of obedience. He could always use the milk. He stopped and purchased the gallon of milk and started off toward home.

As he passed Seventh Street, he again felt the urge, 'Turn down that street.'

This is crazy he thought, and drove on past the intersection.

Again, he felt that he should turn down Seventh Street .

At the next intersection, he turned back and headed down Seventh.

Half jokingly, he said out loud, 'Okay, God, I will.'

He drove several blocks, when suddenly, he felt like he should stop He pulled over to the curb and looked around. He was in a semi- commercial area of town. It wasn't the best but it wasn't the worst of neighborhoods either.

The businesses were closed and most of the houses looked dark like the people were already in bed.

Again, he sensed something, 'Go and give the milk to the people in the house across the street.' The young man looked at the house. It was dark and it looked like the people were either gone or they were already asleep. He started to open the door and then sat back in the car seat.

'Lord, this is insane. Those people are asleep and if I wake them up, they are going to be mad and I will look stupid.' Again, he felt like he should go and give the milk.

Finally, he opened the door, 'Okay God, if this is you, I will go to the door and I will give them the milk. If you want me to look like a crazy person, okay. I want to be obedient. I guess that will count for some thing, but if they don't answer right away, I am out of here.'

He walked across the street and rang the bell. He could hear some noise inside. A man's voice yelled out, 'Who is it? What do you want?' Then the door opened before the young man could get away.

The man was standing there in his jeans and T-shirt. He looked like he just got out of bed. He had a strange look on his face and he didn't seem too happy to have some stranger standing on his doorstep. 'What is it?'

The young man thrust out the gallon of milk, 'Here, I brought this to you.'

The man took the milk and rushed down a hallway.

Then from down the hall came a woman carrying the milk toward the kitchen.

The man was following her holding a baby. The baby was crying. The man had tears streaming down his face.

The man began speaking and half crying, 'We were just praying. We had some big bills this month and we ran out of money. We didn't have any milk for our baby. I was just praying and asking God to show me how to get some milk.'

His wife in the kitchen yelled out, 'I ask him to send an Angel with some.

Are you an Angel?'

The young man reached into his wallet and pulled out all the money he had on him and put in the man's hand. He turned and walked back toward his car and the tears were streaming down his face. He knew that God still answers prayers.

Sometimes it's the simplest things that God asks us to do that cause us, if we are obedient to what He's asking, to be able to hear His voice more clearly than ever. Please listen, and obey ! It will bless you (and the world). Phil 4:13

Jesus said, 'If you are ashamed of me, I will be ashamed of you before my Father.'

Not ashamed...Pass this on.

Hands...

This is good; I'll never look at my hands the same!

        
Grandpa, some ninety-plus years, sat feebly on the patio bench. He didn't move, just sat with his head down staring at his hands.  When I sat down beside him, he didn't acknowledge my presence and the longer I sat I wondered if he was OK. 

Finally, not really wanting to disturb him but wanting to check on him at the same time, I asked him if he was OK.  He raised his head and looked at me and smiled. "Yes, I'm fine, thank you for asking," he said in a clear strong voice.
               
"I didn't mean to disturb you, Grandpa, but you were just sitting here staring at your hands and I wanted to make sure you were OK," I explained to him.  "Have you ever looked at your hands," he asked. "I mean really looked at your hands?"

I slowly opened my hands and stared down at them.  I turned them over, palms up and then palms down.  No, I guess I had never really looked at my hands as I tried to figure out the point he was making.  Grandpa smiled and related this story.

"Stop and think for a moment about the hands you have, how they have served you well throughout your years. These hands, though wrinkled, shriveled and weak have been the tools I have used all my life to reach out and grab and embrace life.
                          

"They put food in my mouth and clothes on my back.  As a child my mother taught me to fold them in prayer. They tied my shoes and pulled on my boots.  They have been dirty, scraped and raw, swollen and bent. 

"They were uneasy and clumsy when I tried to hold my newborn son.  Decorated with my wedding band they showed the world that I was married and loved someone special. 

"They trembled and shook when I buried my parents and spouse and walked my daughter down the aisle. They have covered my face, combed my hair, and washed and cleansed the rest of my body.  They have been sticky and wet, bent and broken, dried and raw.
"And to this day when not much of anything else of me works real well.  These hands hold me up, lay me down, and again continue to fold in prayer.

"These hands are the mark of where I've been and the ruggedness of my life.  But more importantly it will be these hands that God will reach out and take when he leads me home.  And with my hands He will lift me to His side and there I will use these hands to touch the face of Christ ." 

I will never look at my hands the same again.  And I remember well the day that God reached out and took my Grandpa's hands and led him home.  When my hands are hurt or sore I think of Grandpa.  I know he has been stroked and caressed and held by the hands of God.  I, too, want to touch the face of God and feel His hands upon my face.

When you receive this, say a prayer for the person who sent it to you and watch God's answer to prayer work in your life. Let's continue praying for one another.

Passing this on to anyone you consider a friend  will bless you both.  

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