Exercise Program
The Doctor told me I should start an exercise program. Not wanting to harm this old body, I’ve devised the following:
Beat around the bush
Jump to conclusions
Climb the walls
Wade through the morning paper.
Drag my heels
Push my luck
Make mountains out of mole hills
Hit the nail on the head.
Bend over backwards
Jump on the band wagon
Run around in circles.
Toot my own horn
Pull out all the stops
Add fuel to the fire
Open a can of worms
Put my foot in my mouth
Start the ball rolling
Go over the edge.
Pick up the pieces.
Kneel in prayer
Bow my head in thanksgiving
Uplift my hands in praise
Hug someone and encourage them.
What a Workout!
Rest At Last.
Awkward
Following a great sermon on lifestyle evangelism one family thought they had better do something to witness to Jesus. So they invited their neighbors to dinner the following Friday night.
When it came to the meal, the hostess was keen to show their neighbors that they upheld Christian standards in their home.
So she asked little 5 year old Johnny to say grace.
Little Johnny was a bit shy. “I don’t know what to say” There was an awkward pause, followed by a reassuring smile from the boy’s mother.
“Well darling,” she said, ” just say what Daddy said at breakfast this morning.”
Obediently, the boy repeated, “Oh God, we’ve got those awful people coming to dinner tonight”
Just Trying to Help
A big, burly man visited the pastor’s home and asked to see the minister’s wife, a woman well known for her charitable impulses.
“Madam,” he said in a broken voice, “I wish to draw your attention to the terrible plight of a poor family in this district. The father is dead, the mother is too ill to work, and the nine children are starving. They are about to be turned into the cold, empty streets unless someone pays their rent, which amounts to $400.”
“How terrible!” exclaimed the preacher’s wife. “May I ask who you are?”
The sympathetic visitor applied his handkerchief to his eyes. “I’m the landlord,” he sobbed.
Thou Shalt Not
A Minister was walking down the street when he came upon a group of about a dozen boys, all of them between 10 and 12 years of age.
The group had surrounded a dog. Concerned lest the boys were hurting the dog, he went over and asked “What are you doing with that dog?”
One of the boys replied, “This dog is just an old neighborhood stray. We all want him, but only one of us can take him home. So we’ve decided that whichever one of us can tell the biggest lie will get to keep the dog.”
Of course, the reverend was taken aback. “You boys shouldn’t be having a contest telling lies!” he exclaimed. He then launched into a ten minute sermon against lying, beginning, “Don’t you boys know it’s a sin to lie,” and ending with, “Why, when I was your age, I never told a lie.”
There was dead silence for about a minute.� Just as the reverend was beginning to think he’d gotten through to them, the smallest boy gave a deep sigh and said, “All right, give him the dog.”
My Wife Beats Me
Patient: My wife beats me, doctor.
Doctor: Oh dear. How often?
Patient: Every time we play Scrabble!
Shut Up, Trouble and Manners
There once were these three guys: Shut Up, Trouble and Manners.
Trouble got lost so Shut Up and Manners went to the police station. Manners stayed in the car while Shut Up went in. He told the police officer what happened and he asked, “What’s your name?”
“Shut Up.”
“Where are your Manners?”
“Waiting in the car.”
“Are you looking for Trouble?”
“Yes! How did you know?”
THE INFLUENCE OF A MOTHER’S PRAYERS.
More than thirty years ago, one lovely Sabbath morning, about eight young men, students in a law school, were walking along the banks of a stream that flows into the Potomac river, not far from the city of Washington. They were going to a grove, in a retired place, to spend the hours of that holy day in playing cards. Each of them had a flask of wine in his pocket. They were the sons of praying mothers. As they were walking along amusing each other with idle jests, the bell of a church in a little village not two miles off began to ring. It sounded in the ears of those thoughtless young men as plainly as though it were only on the other side of the little stream along which they were walking.
Presently one of their number, whose name was George, stopped, and said to the friend nearest him that he would go no farther, but would return to the village and go to church His friend called out to their companions, who were a little ahead of them ‘ Boys! Boys! Come back here; George is getting religious; we must help him. Come on, and let us baptize him by immersion in the water.” In a moment they formed a circle around him. They told him that the only way he could save himself from having a cold bath was by going with them. In a calm, quiet, but earnest way, he said:
“I know very well that you have power enough to put me in the water, and hold me there till I am drowned; and, if you choose, you can do so, and I will make no resistance; but listen to what I have to say, and then do as you think best.
“You all know that I am two hundred miles away from home; but you do not know that my mother is a helpless, bed-ridden invalid. I never remember seeing her out of bed. I am her youngest child. My father could not afford to pay for my schooling; but our teacher is a warm friend of my father, and offered to take me without any charge. He was very anxious for me to come; but mother would not consent. The struggle almost cost her what little life was left to her. At length, after many prayers on the subject, she yielded and said I might go. The preparations for my leaving home were soon made. My mother never said a word to me on the subject till the morning when I was about to leave. After I had eaten my breakfast she sent for me, and asked me if every-thing was ready. I told her all was ready, and I was only waiting for the stage. At her request I kneeled beside her bed. With her loving hand upon my head, she prayed for her youngest child. Many and many a night I have dreamed that whole scene over. It is the happiest recollection of my life. I believe, till the day of my death, I shall be able to repeat every word of that prayer. Then she spoke to me thus:
“My precious boy, you do not know, you never can know, the agony of a mother’s heart, in parting, for the last time, from her youngest child. When you leave home, you will have looked, for the last time, this side of the grave, on the face of her who loves you as no other mortal does or can. Your father cannot afford the expense of your making us visits during the two years that your studies will occupy. I cannot possibly live as long as that. The sand in the hourglass of my life has nearly run out. In the far off strange place to which you are going, there will be no loving mother to give counsel in time of trouble. Seek counsel and help from God. Every Sabbath morning, from ten to eleven o’clock, I will spend the hour in prayer for you. Wherever you may be during this sacred hour, when you hear the church bells ringing, let your thoughts come back to this chamber, where your dying mother will be agonizing in prayer for you. But I hear the stage coming. Kiss me-farewell!”
Boys, I never expect to see my mother again on earth. But by God’s help, I mean to meet her in heaven.”
As George stopped speaking the tears were streaming down his cheeks. He looked at his companions. Their eyes were filled with tears.
In a moment the ring which they had formed about him was opened. He passed out and went to church. He had stood up for the right against great odds.
They admired him for doing what they had not the courage to do. They all followed him to church. On their way there, each of them quietly threw away his cards and his wine-flask Never again did these young men play cards on the Sabbath
From that day they all became changed men. Six of them died Christians, and are now in heaven. George is an able Christian lawyer in Iowa; and his friend, who wrote this account, has been for many years an earnest, active member of the church. Here were eight men converted by the prayers of that good Christian woman. And, if we only knew all the results of their examples and their labors, we should have a good illustration of a mother’s prayers — Bible Models
Taken from the amazing Book Touching Incidents
Tags: #devotionalhumor
You must be logged in to post a comment.