Misc Ramblings From Maceoghainn, Stuff I stumble upon I'd like to share

..."Life is all about choices. When you cut away all the junk, every situation is a choice. You choose how you react to situations. You choose how people affect your mood. You choose to be in a good mood or bad mood. The bottom line: It's your choice how you live your life."

You know, that is something a lot of folks are not willing to accept as truth: we choose how we react. I remember when I realized it, I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach because I realized that I could no longer blame circumstances or situations for putting me into a bad mood. It was MY choice how I reacted to the circumstances!

That's quite a burden. But in my (our?) case, we have God to rely on to help us keep an optimistic outlook. What trips me up is, my thoughts seem to turn naturally to negative things: situations I can't change, people who won't do what I think or wish they would... sometimes in cases like that, you just have to look away - MAKE your thoughts turn to more pleasant things or things you can do something constructive about.

I realize now why Christ himself talked so much about not worrying... it can be a terrible trap to get caught in...

SB

Life or Death?

Here's a Rap artist and song with a positive message, "Can I Live?": Video or song on this website: http://www.nickcannonmusic.com/index_main.html

Thank you for posting that video, even for someone who isn't that into rap, it was beautiful.

Got this e-mail from a friend and wanted to pass it on. (plus my files needed some help- this statement will make sense after you read the story)

THE ROOM

17-year-old Brian Moore had only a short time to write something for a class. The subject was what Heaven was like. "I wowed 'em," he later told his father, Bruce. "It's a killer. It's the bomb. It's the best thing I ever wrote." It also was the last.

Brian's parents had forgotten about the essay when a cousin found it while cleaning out the teenager's locker at Teary Valley High School. Brian had been dead only hours, but his parents desperately wanted every piece of his life near them-notes from classmates and teachers, his homework.

Only two months before he had handwritten the essay about encountering Jesus in a file room full of cards detailing every moment of the teen's life. But it was only after Brian's death that Beth and Bruce Moore realized that their son had described his view of heaven. "It makes such an impact that people want to share it. You feel like you are there." Mr. Moore said.

Brian Moore died May 27, 1997, the day after Memorial Day. He was driving home from a friend's house when his car went off Bulen-Pierce Road in Pickaway County and struck a utility pole. He emerged from the wreck unharmed, but stepped on a downed power line and was electrocuted.

The Moores framed a copy of Brian's essay and hung it among the family portraits in the living room. "I think God used him to make a point. I think we were meant to find it and make something out of it," Mrs. Moore said of the essay. She and her husband want to share their son's vision of life after death. "I'm happy for Brian. I know he's in heaven. I know I'll see him."



Brian's Essay: The Room...

In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in the room. There were no distinguishing features except for the one wall covered with small index card files. 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 endless 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 brothers." 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 fewer than I hoped. I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life I had lived. Could it be possible that I had the time in my years to fill 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 "TV Shows I have watched", 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, I was ashamed, not so much by the quality of shows but more by the vast 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 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 "Person?s I Have Shared the Gospel With." The handle was brighter than those around it, 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 they hurt. They 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." I stood up, and He led me out of the room. There was no lock on its door. There were still cards to be written.

"I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me."-Phil. 4:13

"For God so loved the world that He gave His only son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life." John 3:16

If you feel the same way forward it so the love of Jesus will touch their lives also. My "People I shared the gospel with" file just got bigger, how about yours?

IF THERE IS ONE EMAIL THAT I HAVE READ THAT NEEDS TO GO AROUND THE WORLD, IT IS THIS ONE, FOR THE CHRISTIAN OR NOT! MAY GOD BLESS YOU ALL!

You don't have to share this with anybody, no one will know whether you did or not, but you will know and so will He.

Take a look at this: The Interview

===========
This comes your way from the Sermon Fodder listTo subscribe please send
an e-mail to [email protected]. Please leave this
attached if you forward to friends and relatives.
@1999 Keith Todd & Associates

Fizzit Mama

A friend of mine recently shared a little "parable in real life"
that God sent her several years ago.

When her son was quite small, he had a small stuffed gorilla that
he wagged around with him everywhere -- and I do mean EVERYWHERE -- he
went. She could sometimes sneak it away for a quick laundering during
nap time, but Heaven help her if her son awoke before his friend "Rilla"
was out of the dryer! As such '"loveys" will do, Rilla's seams gradually
began to weaken and his stuffing began to leak.

As she tells it, "Poor old Rilla was in desperate need of some
corrective surgery, not to mention a stuffing transplant. One day, John
waddled up to me and held up his battered, beloved Rilla and said,
'Mommy, Rilla's broked.' I explained that I would be happy to fix Rilla
up -- a little new stuffing, some seam reinforcement, and he would be
'all better' again. John held Rilla out toward me, and said 'Fizzit,
Mommy!' But, when I reached down to take the little gorilla in my hands,
I found that it had a two-year-old firmly attached to it. As all parents
know, a tug-of-war with a two-year-old is frequently a losing
proposition, and is ALWAYS accompanied by loud cries and copious tears.
Finally, in exasperation, I said, 'I can't fix it until you let go of
it!!!' And just at that moment,
the Spirit of God tapped me on the shoulder, as it were -- and I
realized that God was waiting for me to let go of several things, too."

This is one aspect of Christianity that I suspect will always be a
struggle for many of us-- "tis not I, but Christ liveth in me". It's so
hard for us to get out of his way and let him "fizzit" in his own good
time, because we're living in the present moment and He is living in
eternity. Waiting on the Lord, whether it is for healing, for
understanding, or a much needed job, is not an easy task. But, I truly
believe it is essential for all of us to be as patient with Him as He is
with us.

=======================


I need to be reminded of this truth every day!

MacE

The Sermon Fodder list shares a regular dose of Christian humor and
modern-day parables. To subscribe send an e-mail to
[email protected]. Please leave this attached if
you forward it to friends.

SEARCH FOR AN HONEST MAN

I love this story which reportedly came from Sports Illustrated (I do
not know which issue):

The game was played in Wellington, Florida. In it, a seven-year-old
first baseman, Tanner Munsey, fielded a ground ball and tried to tag a
runner going from first to second base.

The umpire, Laura Benson, called the runner out, but young Tanner
immediately ran to her side and said, "Ma'am, I didn't tag the
runner." Umpire Benson reversed herself, sent the runner to second
base, and Tanner's coach gave him the game ball for his honesty.

Two weeks later, Laura Benson was again the umpire and Tanner was
playing shortstop when a similar play occurred. This time Benson
ruled that Tanner had missed the tag on a runner going to third base,
and she called the runner safe. Tanner looked at Benson and without
saying a word, tossed the ball to the catcher and returned to his
position.

Benson sensed something was wrong. "Did you tag the runner?" She
asked Tanner.

His reply: "Yes."

Benson then called the runner out. The opposing coaches protested
until she explained what had happened two weeks earlier. "If a kid is
that honest," she said, "I have to give it to him."

It may be that no Christian characteristic has suffered more in our
society than honesty. It's lacking in the workplace, it's lacking in
many of our marriages, it's lacking in our government, and sometimes
it's even lacking in our churches. Like Diogenes of ancient Greece,
we sometimes feel the urge to take our lantern and begin our search
for an honest man.

There is something about Christians that should stand out like a neon
sign on a dark night. Jesus wants his people to be known as a people
of truth. We should establish a reputation, like Tanner, for speaking
the truth even when it would benefit us to do otherwise. Then, and
only then, will those around us trust what we say without hesitation,
without wondering whether we really mean what we say or not.

"Therefore, putting away lying, each one speak truth with his
neighbor, for we are members of one another." (Ephesians 4:25).

May God help you to be that person of truth that Diogenes was looking
for (and God still is, too).

Have a great weekend!

Alan Smith
Boone Church of Christ
Boone, NC
www.TFTD-online.com
--

Here's another online chain letter for everybody.

I'm never sure if these stories are true or just somebody's imagination, I can only hope things like these really happen.

MacE
Hebrews 11:1 Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.


Subject: Do you Smell That?


DO YOU SMELL THAT?
At the end of this story, it gives you two options. I think you will figure out what option I chose.

A cold March wind danced around the dead of night in Dallas as the
doctor walked into the small hospital room of Diana Blessing. She was
still groggy from surgery.

Her husband, David, held her hand as they braced themselves for the
latest news.

That afternoon of March 10, 1991, complications had forced Diana,
only 24-weeks pregnant, to undergo an emergency Cesarean to deliver
couple's new daughter, Dana Lu Blessing.


At 12 inches long and weighing only one pound nine ounces, they
already knew she was perilously premature. Still, the doctor's soft words
dropped like bombs.

"I don't think she's going to make it," he said, as kindly as he
could.

"There's only a 10-percent chance she will live through the night,
and even then, if by some slim chance she does make it, her future could
be a very cruel one."

Numb with disbelief, David and Diana listened as the doctor described
the devastating problems Dana would likely face if she survived.

She would never walk, she would never talk, she would probably be
blind, and she would certainly be prone to other catastrophic conditions
from cerebral palsy to complete mental retardation, and on and on.

"No! No!" was all Diana could say.

She and David, with their 5-year-old son Dustin, had long dreamed of
the day they would have a daughter to become a family of four. Now,
within a matter of hours, that dream was slipping away.

But as those first days passed, a new agony set in for David and
Diana. Because Dana's underdeveloped nervous system was essentially
'raw', the lightest kiss or caress only intensified her discomfort, so they
couldn't even cradle their tiny baby girl against their chests to offer
the strength of their love. All they could do, as Dana struggled alone
beneath the ultraviolet light in the tangle of tubes and wires, was to pray that God
would stay close to their precious little girl.

There was never a moment when Dana suddenly grew stronger.

But as the weeks went by, she did slowly gain an ounce of weight here
and an ounce of strength there.

At last, when Dana turned two months old, her parents were able to
Hold her in their arms for the very first time. And two months later,
though doctors continued to gently but grimly warn that her chances of
surviving, much less living any kind of normal life, were next to zero,
Dana went home from the hospital, just as her mother had predicted.

Five years later, when Dana was a petite but feisty young girl with
glittering gray eyes and an unquenchable zest for life. She showed no
signs whatsoever of any mental or physical impairment. Simply, she was
everything a little girl can be and more. But that happy ending is far
from the end of her story.

One blistering afternoon in the summer of 1996 near her home in
Irving, Texas, Dana was sitting in her mother's lap in the bleachers of
a local ball park where her brother Dustin's baseball team was practicing.

As always, Dana was chattering nonstop with her mother and several
other adults sitting nearby when she suddenly fell silent. Hugging her
arms across her chest, little Dana asked, "Do you smell that?"

Smelling the air and detecting the approach of a thunderstorm, Diana
replied, "Yes, it smells like rain."

Dana closed her eyes and again asked, "Do you smell that?"

Once again, her mother replied, "Yes, I think we're about to get
wet. It smells like rain."

Still caught in the moment, Dana shook her head, patted her thin
shoulders with her small hands and loudly announced, "No, it smells
like Him. It smells like God when you lay your head on His chest."


Tears blurred Diana's eyes as Dana happily hopped down to play with
the other children.

Before the rains came, her daughter's words confirmed what Diana and
all the members of the extended Blessing family had known, at least in
their hearts, all along.

During those long days and nights of her first two months of her
life, when her nerves were too sensitive for them to touch her, God was
holding Dana on His chest and it is His loving scent that she remembers
so well.

You now have 1 of 2 choices. You can either pass this on and let
other people catch the chills like you did or you can delete this and
act like it didn't touch your heart like it did mine.


IT'S YOUR CALL!

"I can do all things in Him who strengthens me."

This morning when the Lord opened a window to Heaven, He saw me, and
He asked: "My child, what is your greatest wish for today?" I responded:


"Lord please, take care of the person who is reading this message,
their family and their special friends. They deserve it and I love them
very much" The love of God is like the ocean, you can see its beginning,
but not its end.

This message works on the day you receive it. Let us see if it is
true.

ANGELS EXIST but some times, since they don't all have wings, we
call them FRIENDS.

Pass this on to your true friends. Something good will happen to
you At 11:00 in the morning; something that you have been waiting to hear.

This is not a joke; someone will call you by phone or will speak to you
about something that you were waiting to hear..

Do not break this prayer; send it to a minimum of 5 people.

Just thought you'd like to know that this story is true. I found two corroborating souces confirming the story.

Here is the article from TruthorFiction.com.

I'm not MacE but I thought that this would be the place to share this story. The author did teach at Loyola and there is one source that indicates that he was contacted and confirmed the story. There are other sources to indicate the Father John Powell did write the story. All of the versions of the story matched almost word for word.

Here's the story:

A mouse looked through the crack in the wall to see the farmer and his wife open a package. What food might this contain?"

The mouse wondered - he was devastated to discover it was a mousetrap.

Retreating to the farmyard, the mouse proclaimed the warning. "There is a mousetrap in the house! There is a mousetrap in the house!"

The chicken clucked and scratched, raised her head and said, "Mr. Mouse, I can tell this is a grave concern to you, but it is of no consequence to me. I cannot be bothered by it."

The mouse turned to the pig and told him, "There is a mousetrap in the house! There is a mousetrap in the house!" The pig sympathized, but said, "I am so very sorry, Mr. Mouse, but there is nothing I can do about it but pray. Be assured, you are in my prayers."

The mouse turned to the cow and said "There is a mousetrap in the house! There is a mousetrap in the house!" The cow said, "Wow, Mr. Mouse. I'm sorry for you, but it's no skin off my nose."

So, the mouse returned to the house, head down and dejected, to face the farmer's mousetrap alone.

That very night a sound was heard throughout the house -- like the sound of mousetrap catching its prey.

The farmer's wife rushed to see what was caught. In the darkness, she did not see it was a venomous snake whose tail the trap had caught.

The snake bit the farmer's wife. The farmer rushed her to the hospital, and she returned home with a fever. Everyone knows you treat a fever with fresh chicken soup, so the farmer took his hatchet to the farmyard for the soup's main ingredient. But his wife's sickness continued, so friends and neighbors came to sit with the farmer around the clock. To feed them, the farmer butchered the pig.

The farmer's wife did not get well; she died. So many people came for her funeral, the farmer had the cow slaughtered to provide enough meat for all of them.

The mouse looked upon it all from his crack in the wall with great sadness.

So, the next time you hear someone is facing a problem and think it doesn't concern you, remember -- when one of us is threatened, we are all at risk.

We are all involved in this journey called life. We must keep an eye out for one another and make an extra effort to encourage one another.


SEND THIS TO EVERYONE WHO HAS EVER HELPED YOU OUT AND LET THEM KNOW HOW IMPORTANT THEY ARE. REMEMBER: EACH OF US IS A VITAL THREAD IN ANOTHER PERSONS TAPESTRY; OUR LIVES ARE WOVEN TOGETHER FOR A REASON.

One of the best things to hold onto in this world is a friend....

Thanks to all of you for being my friend


Matthew 22:34-40 (NIV)

The Greatest Commandment

34Hearing that Jesus had silenced the Sadducees, the Pharisees got together. 35One of them, an expert in the law, tested him with this question:
36"Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?" 37Jesus replied: " 'Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.'38This is the first and greatest commandment. 39And the second is like it: 'Love your neighbor as yourself.' 40All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments."

THAT is good...

Thanks for sharing.

This is a great post on this blog site for Easter, or anyother day! La Shawn Barber's Corner

Is time really just God's way of keeping everything from happening at
once?

And the poet said: (excerpt from "Believe" by Ronnie Dunn & Craig Wiseman)

I raise my hands, bow my head
I'm finding more and more truth in the words written in red
They tell me that there's more to life than just what I can see


I can't quote the book
The chapter or the verse
You can't tell me it all ends
In a slow ride in a hearse
You know I'm more and more convinced
The longer that I live
Yeah, this can't be
No, this can't be
No, this can't be all there is


Lord I raise my hands, bow my head
Oh I'm finding more and more truth in the words written in red
They tell me that there's more to this than just what I can see
I believe
Oh, I
I believe
I believe
I believe
I believe
I believe
I believe


John 14:5-7 (KJV)
5 Thomas saith unto him, Lord, we know not whither thou goest; and how can we know the way?

6 Jesus saith unto him, I am the way, the truth, and the life: no man cometh unto the Father, but by me.

7 If ye had known me, ye should have known my Father also: and from henceforth ye know him, and have seen him.