A simple friend seeks to talk with you about your problems.
A real friend seeks to help you with your problems.

A simple friend wonders about your romantic history.
A real friend could blackmail you with it.

A simple friend, when visiting, acts like a guest.
A real friend opens your refrigerator and helps himself.

A simple friend thinks the friendship is over when you HAVE an argument.
A real friend knows that it's not a friendship until after you've had a fight.

A simple friend expects you to always be there for them.
A real friend expects to always be there for you!

Back to top

The Empty Chair

A man's daughter had asked the local minister to come and pray with her father.  When the minister arrived, he found the man lying in bed with his head propped up on two pillows.  An empty chair sat beside his bed.  The minister assumed that the old fellow had been informed of his visit.

"I guess you were expecting me," he said.

"No.  Who are you?" said the father.

The minister told him his name and then remarked, "I see the empty chair; I figured you knew I was going to show up."

"Oh yeah, the chair," said the bedridden man.  "Would you mind closing the door?"

Puzzled, the minister shut the door.

"I have never told anyone this, not even my daughter," said the man.  "But all of my life I have never known how to pray.  At church I used to hear the pastor talk about prayer, but it went right over my head.  I abandoned any attempt at prayer until one day four years ago my best friend said to me, 'Johnny, prayer is just a simple matter of having a conversation with Jesus.  Here is what I suggest.  Sit down in 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 always'.  Then just speak to him in the same way you're doing with me right now.'  So I tried it and I've liked 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 either have a nervous breakdown or send me off to the funny farm."

The minister was deeply moved by the story and encouraged the old man to continue on the journey.  Then he prayed with him and returned to the church.

Two nights later the daughter called to tell the minister that her daddy had died that afternoon.

"Did he die in peace?" he asked.

"Yes, when I left the house about two o'clock, he called me over to his bedside, told me he loved me and kissed me on the cheek.  When I got back from the store an hour later, I found him dead.  But there was something strange about his death.  Apparently, just before Daddy died, he leaned over and rested his head on the chair beside the bed.  What do you make of that?"

The minister wiped a  tear from his eye and said, "I wish we could all go like that."

Back to top

The Heart

"Tomorrow morning," the surgeon began, "I'll open your heart."

"You'll find Jesus there," the boy interrupted.

The surgeon looked up, annoyed.  "I'll cut open your heart," he continued, "to see how much damage has been done."

"But when you open up my heart, you'll find Jesus in there," said the boy.

The surgeon looked to the parents, who sad quietly, then continued.  "When I see how much damage has been done, I'll sew your heart and chest back up, and I'll plan what to do next."

"But you'll find Jesus in my heart.  The Bible says He lives there.  The hymns all say He lives there.  You'll find Him in my heart."

The surgeon had had enough.  "I'll tell you what I'll find in your heart.  I'll find damaged muscle, low blood supply, and weakened vessels.  And I'll find out if I can make you well."

"You'll find Jesus there, too!  He lives there."

The surgeon left.

Later, the surgeon sat in his office recording his notes from the surgery.  "...damaged aorta, damaged pulmonary vein, widespread muscle degeneration.  No hope for transplant, no hope for cure.  Therapy:  pain killers and bed rest.  Prognosis..." here he paused.  "Death within one year."

He stopped the recorder, but there was no more to be said.  "Why?" he asked aloud.  "Why did You do this?  You put him here; You've put him in this pain; and You've cursed him to an early death.  Why?"

The Lord answered and said, "The boy, My lamb, was not meant for your flock for long, for he is part of My flock, and forever will be.  Here, in My flock, he will feel no pain, and will be comforted as you cannot imagine.  His parents will one day join him here, and they will know peace, and My flock will continue to grow."

The surgeon's tears were hot, but his anger was hotter.  "You created that boy, and You created that heart.  He'll be dead in months.  Why?"

The Lord answered, "The boy, My lamb, shall return to My flock, for he has done his duty.  I did not put My lamb with your flock to lose him, but to retrieve another lost lamb."

The surgeon wept.  The next day, the surgeon sat beside the boy's bed and the boy's parents sat across from him.

The boy awoke and whispered, "Did you cut open my heart?"

"Yes," replied the surgeon.

"What did you find?" asked the boy.

"I found Jesus there," said the surgeon.

Back to top

The Lord's Voice

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 the service, he went out with some friends for coffee and pie and they discussed the message.  His friends 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 an 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 aloud, "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 occupants 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 something, 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 owner of the house 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 the 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, 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 asked 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 it 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.

Back to Top