God and the Spider

God and the Spider


During World War II, a US marine was separated from his unit on a
Pacific island. The fighting had been intense, and in the smoke and the crossfire he had lost touch with his comrades.



Alone in the jungle, he could hear enemy soldiers coming in his direction. Scrambling for cover, he found his way up a high ridge to
several small caves in the rock. Quickly he crawled inside one of
the caves. Although safe for the moment, he realized that once the
enemy soldiers looking for him swept up the ridge, they would
quickly search all the caves and he would be killed.



As he waited, he prayed, Lord, if it be your will, please protect me.
Whatever your will though, I love you and trust you. Amen.



After praying, he lay quietly listening to the enemy begin to draw
close. He thought, Well, I guess the Lord is not going to help me
out of this one. Then he saw a spider begin to build a web over the
front of his cave.



As he watched, listening to the enemy searching for him all the
while, the spider layered strand after strand of web across the opening of the cave.



He thought what I need is a brick wall and what the Lord has sent
me is a spider web. God does have a sense of humor. As the enemy drew closer he watched from the darkness of his hideout and could see them searching one cave after another. As they came to his, he got ready to make his last stand. To his amazement, however, after glancing in the direction of his cave, they moved on.



Suddenly, he realized that with the spider web over the entrance,
his cave looked as if no one had entered for quite a while. Lord,
forgive me, prayed the young man. I had forgotten that in you a
spider's web is stronger than a brick wall.



We all face times of great trouble. When we do, it is so easy to forget the victories that God would work in our lives, sometimes in the most surprising ways. As the great leader, Nehemiah, reminded the people of Israel when they faced the task of rebuilding Jerusalem, In God we will have success! [Nehemiah 2:20]



Remember: Whatever is happening in your life, with God, a mere spiders web can become a brick wall of protection. Believe He iswith you always. Just speak His name through Jesus His son, and youwill see His great power and love for you.

I Believe in Tim Tebow

Friday, January 13, 2012
I believe in Tim Tebow
________________________________________
By Rick Reilly
ESPN.com

I've come to believe in Tim Tebow, but not for what he does on a football field, which is still three parts Dr. Jekyll and two parts Mr. Hyde.
No, I've come to believe in Tim Tebow for what he does off a football field, which is represent the best parts of us, the parts I want to be and so rarely am.
Who among us is this selfless?

Every week, Tebow picks out someone who is suffering, or who is dying, or who is injured. He flies these people and their families to the Broncos game, rents them a car, puts them up in a nice hotel, buys them dinner (usually at a Dave & Buster's), gets them and their families pregame passes, visits with them just before kickoff (!), gets them 30-yard-line tickets down low, visits with them after the game (sometimes for an hour), has them walk him to his car, and sends them off with a basket of gifts.

Home or road, win or lose, hero or goat.
Remember last week, when the world was pulling its hair out in the hour after Tebow had stunned the Pittsburgh Steelers with an 80-yard OT touchdown pass to Demaryius Thomas in the playoffs? And Twitter was exploding with 9,420 tweets about Tebow per second? When an ESPN poll was naming him the most popular athlete in America?
Tebow was spending that hour talking to 16-year-old Bailey Knaub about her 73 surgeries so far and what TV shows she likes.

MORE FROM TIM TEBOW
"Here he'd just played the game of his life," recalls Bailey's mother, Kathy, of Loveland, Colo., "and the first thing he does after his press conference is come find Bailey and ask, 'Did you get anything to eat?' He acted like what he'd just done wasn't anything, like it was all about Bailey."
More than that, Tebow kept corralling people into the room for Bailey to meet. Hey, Demaryius, come in here a minute. Hey, Mr. Elway. Hey, Coach Fox.
Even though sometimes-fatal Wegener's granulomatosis has left Bailey with only one lung, the attention took her breath away.

"It was the best day of my life," she emailed. "It was a bright star among very gloomy and difficult days. Tim Tebow gave me the greatest gift I could ever imagine. He gave me the strength for the future. I know now that I can face any obstacle placed in front of me. Tim taught me to never give up because at the end of the day, today might seem bleak but it can't rain forever and tomorrow is a new day, with new promises."

I read that email to Tebow, and he was honestly floored.
"Why me? Why should I inspire her?" he said. "I just don't feel, I don't know, adequate. Really, hearing her story inspires me."
It's not just NFL defenses that get Tebowed. It's high school girls who don't know whether they'll ever go to a prom. It's adults who can hardly stand. It's kids who will die soon.

For the game at Buffalo, it was Charlottesville, Va., blue-chip high school QB Jacob Rainey, who lost his leg after a freak tackle in a scrimmage. Tebow threw three interceptions in that Buffalo game and the Broncos were crushed 40-14.
"He walked in and took a big sigh and said, 'Well, that didn't go as planned,'" Rainey remembers. "Where I'm from, people wonder how sincere and genuine he is. But I think he's the most genuine person I've ever met."

There's not an ounce of artifice or phoniness or Hollywood in this kid Tebow, and I've looked everywhere for it.

Take 9-year-old Zac Taylor, a child who lives in constant pain. Immediately after Tebow shocked the Chicago Bears with a 13-10 comeback win, Tebow spent an hour with Zac and his family. At one point, Zac, who has 10 doctors, asked Tebow whether he has a secret prayer for hospital visits. Tebow whispered it in his ear. And because Tebow still needed to be checked out by the Broncos' team doctor, he took Zac in with him, but only after they had whispered it together.

And it's not always kids. Tom Driscoll, a 55-year-old who is dying of brain cancer at a hospice in Denver, was Tebow's guest for the Cincinnati game. "The doctors took some of my brain," Driscoll says, "so my short-term memory is kind of shot. But that day I'll never forget. Tim is such a good man."
This whole thing makes no football sense, of course. Most NFL players hardly talk to teammates before a game, much less visit with the sick and dying.
Isn't that a huge distraction?

Not everything Tim Tebow does on one knee is controversial. Ask Zac Taylor.
"Just the opposite," Tebow says. "It's by far the best thing I do to get myself ready. Here you are, about to play a game that the world says is the most important thing in the world. Win and they praise you. Lose and they crush you. And here I have a chance to talk to the coolest, most courageous people. It puts it all into perspective. The game doesn't really matter. I mean, I'll give 100 percent of my heart to win it, but in the end, the thing I most want to do is not win championships or make a lot of money, it's to invest in people's lives, to make a difference."

So that's it. I've given up giving up on him. I'm a 100 percent believer. Not in his arm. Not in his skills. I believe in his heart, his there-will-definitely-be-a-pony-under-the-tree optimism, the way his love pours into people, right up to their eyeballs, until they believe they can master the hopeless comeback, too.
Remember the QB who lost his leg, Jacob Rainey? He got his prosthetic leg a few weeks ago, and he wants to play high school football next season. Yes, tackle football. He'd be the first to do that on an above-the-knee amputation.
Hmmm. Wonder where he got that crazy idea?
"Tim told me to keep fighting, no matter what," Rainey says. "I am."

Drunk on a Train

DRUNK ON THE TRAIN

The train clanked and rattled through the suburbs of Tokyo on a drowsy spring afternoon. Our car was comparatively empty - a few housewives with their kids in tow, some old folks going shopping. I gazed absently at the drab houses and dusty hedgerows.

At one station the doors opened, and suddenly the afternoon quiet was shattered by a man bellowing violent, incomprehensible curses. The man staggered into our car. He wore laborer’s clothing, and he was big, drunk and dirty. Screaming, he swung at a woman holding a baby. The blow sent her spinning into the laps of an elderly couple. It was a miracle that the baby was unharmed. Terrified, the couple jumped up and scrambled toward the other end of the car. The laborer aimed a kick at the retreating back of the old woman but missed, as she scuttled to safety. This so enraged the drunk that he grabbed the metal pole in the center of the car and tried to wrench it out of its stanchion. I could see that one of his hands was cut and bleeding. The train lurched ahead, the passengers frozen with fear.
I stood up.

I was young then, some 20 years ago, and in pretty good shape. I’ d been putting in a solid eight hours of aikido training nearly every day for the past three years. I liked to throw and grapple. I thought I was tough. Trouble was, my martial skill was untested in actual combat. As students of aikido, we were not allowed to fight.

” Aikido,” my teacher had said again and again, “ is the art of reconciliation, Whoever has the mind to fight has broken his connection with the universe. If you try to dominate people, you are already defeated. We study how to resolve conflict, not how to start it.”

I listened to his words. I tried hard. I even went so far as to cross the street to avoid the the pinball punks who lounged around the train stations. My forbearance exalted me. I felt both tough and holy. In my heart, however, I wanted an absolutely legitimate opportunity whereby I might save the innocent by destroying the guilty.

This is it! I said to myself, getting to my feet. People are in danger and if I don’t do something fast, they will probably get hurt.

Seeing me stand up, the drunk recognized a chance to focus his rage. He roared. “ A foreigner! You need a lesson in Japanese manners.” I held on lightly to the commuter strap overhead and gave him a slow look of disgust and dismissal! I planned to take this turkey apart, but he had to make the first move. I wanted him mad, so I pursed my lips and blew him an insolent kiss.” All right” he hollered.” You’ re gonna get a lesson.” He gathered himself for a rush at me.

A split second before he could move, someone shouted “ Hey!” It was earsplitting. I remember the strangely joyous, lilting quality of it- as though you and a friend had been searching diligently for something, and he suddenly stumbled upon it. “ Hey!” I wheeled to my left, the drunk spun to his right. We both stared down at a little old Japanese man. He must have been well into his seventies, this tiny gentleman, sitting there immaculate in his kimono. He took no notice of me, but beamed delightedly at the laborer, as though he had a most important, most welcome secret to share.” C’ mere,” the old man said in an easy vernacular, beckoning to the drunk. “ C’ mere and talk with me.” He waved his hand lightly.

The big man followed, as if on a string. He planted his feet belligerently in front of the old gentleman, and roared above the clanking wheels, “ Why the hell should I talk to you?” The drunk now had his back to me. If his elbow moved so much as a millimeter, I’d drop him in his socks. The old man continued to beam at the laborer.” What’ cha been drinkin’?” He asked, his eyes sparkling with interest. “ I been drinkin’ sake”, the laborer bellowed back, “ and it’ s none of your business!” Flecks of spittle spattered the old man.

” Oh, that’ s wonderful,” the old man said. ” absolutely wonderful! You see, I love sake too. Every night, me and my wife (she’ s 76, you know), we warm up a little bottle of sake and take it out into the garden, and we sit on an old wooden bench. We watch the sun go down, and we look to see how our persimmon tree is doing. My great grandfather planted that tree, and we worry about whether it will recover from those ice storms we had last winter. Our tree has done better than I expected, though, especially when you consider the poor quality of the soil. It is gratifying to watch when we take our sake and go out to enjoy the evening - even when it rains!” He looked up at the laborer, eyes twinkling.

As he struggled to follow the old man’ s conversation, the drunk’ s face began to soften. His fists slowly unclenched.’ Yeah,’ he said. ‘ I love persimmons too…”. His voice trailed off.” Yes,” said the old man, smiling,” and I’m sure you have a wonderful wife.”

” No,” replied the laborer.” My wife died.” Very gently, swaying with the motion of the train, the big man began to sob.” I don’t got no wife, I don’t got no home, I don’t got no job. I’m ashamed of myself.” Tears rolled down his cheeks, a spasm of despair rippled through his body. Now it was my turn. Standing there in my well-scrubbed youthful innocence, my make-this-world-safe-for democracy righteousness, I suddenly felt dirtier than he was. Then the train arrived at my stop. As the doors opened, I heard the old man cluck sympathetically. “ My, my,” he said, “ that is a difficult predicament, indeed. Sit down here and tell me about it.”


I turned my head for one last look. The laborer was sprawled on the seat, his head in the old man’s lap. The old man was softly stroking the filthy, matted hair. As the train pulled away, I sat down on a bench. What I had wanted to do with muscle had been accomplished with kind words. I had just seen Akido tried in combat, and the essence of it was love. I would have to practice the art with an entirely different spirit. It would be a long time before I could speak about the resolution of conflict.

From Stories of the Heart, Stories of the Spirit by Christina Feldman and Jack Kornfield


This story brings to my mind a scripture found in Proverbs 15:1 " A soft answer turneth away wrath: but grievous words stir up anger".

A new year and time for a new post- "Atoning Donuts" a modern parable

Atoning Doughnuts

There was a boy by the name of Steve who was attending Seminary in Utah. In Utah, Seminary classes are held as part of the school curriculum. Brother Christianson taught Seminary at this particular school. He had an open-door policy and would take in any student that had been thrown out of another class as long as they would abide by his rules. Steve had already been kicked out of his sixth period class, so he went into Brother Christianson's Seminary class. Steve was told that he couldn't be late, so he would come in just seconds before the bell rang, sit in the very back of the room, and was the first to leave after the class was over.

One day, Bro. Christianson asked Steve to stay after class so he would talk with him. After class, Bro, Christianson pulled Steve aside and said, "You think you're pretty tough, don't you?"

Steve's answer was "Yeah, I do." Then Bro. Christianson asked, "How many push-ups can you do?" Steve said, "I do about 200 every night." "200? That's pretty good, Steve," Bro. Christianson said, "Do you think you could do 300?" Steve replied, "I don't know... I've never done 300 at a time." "Do you think you could?" again asked Bro. Christianson.

"Well, I can try," said Steve. "Can you do 300 in sets of 10? I need you to do 300 in sets of ten for this to work. Can you do it? I need you to tell me you can do it," Bro. Christianson said.
Steve said, "Well... I think I can... yeah, I can do it." Bro. Christianson said, "Good! I need you to do this on Friday."

Friday came and Steve got to class early and sat in the front of the room. When class started, Bro. Christianson pulled out a big box of doughnuts. Now these weren't the normal kinds of doughnuts, they were the extra fancy BIG kind, with cream centers and frosting swirls. Everyone was pretty excited--it was Friday, the last class of the day, and they were going
to get an extra early start on the weekend. Bro. Christianson went to the first girl on the first row and asked, "Cynthia, do you want a doughnut?"

Cynthia said, "Yes." Bro. Christianson then turned to Steve and asked, "Steve, would you do Ten push-ups so Cynthia can have a doughnut?" Steve said, "Sure," and jumped down from his desk to do a quick ten. Then Steve again sat in his desk. Bro. Christianson put a doughnut on Cynthia's desk. Bro. Christianson then went to Joe, the next person, and asked, "Joe, do you want a doughnut?"


Joe said, "Yes." Bro. Christianson asked, "Steve, would you do ten push-ups so Joe can have a doughnut?" Steve did ten push-ups; Joe got a doughnut. And so it went, down the first aisle. Steve did ten push-ups for every person before they got their doughnut, then down the second aisle, till Bro. Christianson came to Scott. Scott was captain of the football team and center of the basketball team. He was very popular, never lacking for female companionship. When Bro. Christianson asked, "Scott, do you want a doughnut?" Scott's reply was, "Well, can I do my own push-ups?" Bro. Christianson said, "No, Steve has to do them." Then Scott said, "Well, I don't want one then." Bro. Christianson then turned to Steve and asked, "Steve, would you do ten push-ups so Scott can have a doughnut he doesn't want?" Steve started to do ten push-ups. Scott said, "HEY, I said I didn't want one!" Bro. Christianson said, "Look, this is my classroom, my class, my desks, and my doughnuts. Just leave it on the desk if you don't want it." And he put a doughnut on Scott's desk.



Now, by this time, Steve had begun to slow down a little. He just stayed on the floor between sets because it took too much effort to be getting up and down. You could start to see a little perspiration coming out around his brow. Bro. Christianson started down the third row. Now the students were beginning to get a little angry.



Bro. Christianson asked Jenny, "Jenny, do you want a doughnut?" Jenny said, "No." Then Bro. Christianson asked Steve, "Steve, would you do ten push-ups so Jenny can have a doughnut that she doesn't want? Steve did ten and Jenny got a doughnut. By now, the students were beginning to say "No", and there were all these uneaten doughnuts on the desks. Steve was starting to put forth a lot more effort to get these push-ups done for each doughnut. There began to be a small pool of sweat on the floor beneath his face, his arms and brow were beginning to get red because of the physical effort involved. Bro. Christianson asked Robert to watch Steve to make sure he did ten push-ups in a set because he couldn't bear to watch all of Steven's work for all of those uneaten doughnuts. So Robert began to watch Steve closely.


Bro. Christianson started down the fourth row. During his class, however, some students had wandered in and sat along the heaters along the sides of the room. When Bro. Christianson realized this; he did a quick count and saw 34 students in the room. He started to worry if Steve would be able to make it. Bro. Christianson went on the to next person and the next and the
next.Near the end of that row, Steve was really having a rough time.


He was taking a lot more time to complete each set. Steve asked Bro. Christianson, "Do I have to make my nose touch on each one? Bro. Christianson thought for a moment, "Well, they're your push-ups. You can do them any way that you want."


And Bro Christianson went on. A few moments later, Jason came to the door and was about to come in when all the students yelled, "NO!" Don't come in! Stay out!" Jason didn't know what was going on. Steve picked up his head and said,” No, let him come." Bro. Christianson said, "You realize that if Jason comes in you will have to do ten push-ups for him." Steve said, "Yes, let him come in." Bro. Christianson said, "Okay, I'll let you get Jason's out of the way right now. Jason, do you want a doughnut?" "Yes." "Steve, will you do ten push-ups so that Jason can have a doughnut?" Steve did ten push-ups very slowly and with great effort. Jason, bewildered, was handed a doughnut and sat down.


Bro. Christianson finished the fourth row, and then started on those seated on the heaters. Steve's arms were now shaking with each push-up in a struggle to lift him against the force of gravity. Sweat was dropping off of his face, and, by this time, there was not a dry eye in the room. The very last two girls in the room were cheerleaders and very popular.


Bro. Christianson went to Linda, the second to the last, and asked, "Linda, do you want a doughnut?" Too choked up to talk, she just shook here head, no. Bro. Christianson asked Steve, "Steve, would you do ten push-ups so that Linda can have a doughnut she doesn't want?" Grunting from the effort, Steve did ten very slow push-ups for Linda.



Then Bro. Christianson turned to the last girl, Susan. "Susan, do you want a doughnut?" Susan, with tears flowing down her face, asked "Bro. Christianson, can I help him?" Bro. Christianson, with tears of his own, said, "No, he has to do it alone. Steve, would you do ten push-ups so Susan can have a doughnut?" As Steve very slowly finished his last push-up, with the understanding that he had accomplished all that was required of him, having done 350 push-ups, his arms buckled beneath him and he fell to the floor, his strength entirely spent.



Bro. Christianson then concluded the day's lesson, "And so it was, that our Savior, Jesus Christ, plead to the Father, 'Into thy hands I commend my spirit’. With the understanding that He had done everything that was required of Him, he collapsed on the cross and died."

One and a half years later Steve went to El Salvador on a mission for the Church.