The only survivor of a shipwreck was washed up on a small, uninhabited island. He prayed feverishly for God to rescue him. Every day he scanned the horizon for help, but none seemed forthcoming. Exhausted, he eventually managed to build a little hut out of driftwood to protect him from the elements, and to store his few possessions. One day, after scavenging for food, he arrived home to find his little hut in flames, with smoke rolling up to the sky. He felt the worst had happened, and everything was lost. He was stunned with disbelief, grief, and anger. He cried out, “God! How could you do this to me?”
Early the next day, he was awakened by the sound of a ship approaching the island! It had come to rescue him! “How did you know I was here?” asked the weary man of his rescuers. “We saw your smoke signal,” they replied.
The Moral of the Story – It’s easy to get discouraged when things are going bad, but we shouldn’t lose heart, because God is at work in our lives, even in the midst of our pain and suffering. Remember that the next time your little hut seems to be burning to the ground, it just may be a smoke signal that summons the Grace of God. Offer a prayer of thanks.
“Life never was intended to be easy. Rather, it is a period of proving and growth. It is interwoven with difficulties, challenges, and burdens…Yet these very forces, if squarely faced, provide opportunity for tremendous personal growth and development. The conquering of adversity produces strength of character, forges self-confidence, engenders self-respect, and assures success in righteous endeavor” Richard G. Scott
A wealthy man and his son loved to collect rare works of art. They had everything in their collection, from Picasso to Raphael. They would often sit together and admire the great works of art.
When the Vietnam conflict broke out, the son went to war. He was very courageous and died in battle while rescuing another soldier. The father was notified and grieved deeply for his only son.
About a month later, just before Christmas, there was a knock at the door. A young man stood at the door with a large package in his hands. He said, “Sir, you don’t know me, but I am the soldier for whom your son gave his life. He saved many lives that day, as he was carrying me to safety a bullet struck him in the heart and he died instantly.
He often talked about you, and your love for art. ” The young man held out a package. “I know this isn’t much. I’m not really a great artist, but I think your son would want you to have this.” The father opened the package. It was a portrait of his son, painted by the young man. He stared in awe at the way the soldier had captured the personality of his son in the painting. The father was so drawn to the eyes that his own eyes welled up with tears. He thanked the young man and offered to pay him for the picture.
“Oh, no sir, I could never repay what your son did for me. It’s a gift.” The father hung the portrait over his mantle. Every time visitors came to his home he took them to see the portrait of his son before he showed them any of the other great works he had collected.
The man died a few months later. There was to be a great auction of his paintings many influential people gathered, excited over seeing the great paintings and having an opportunity to purchase one for the collection. On the platform sat the painting of the son. The auctioneer pounded his gavel. “We will start the bidding with this picture of the son. Who will bid for this picture?” There was silence.
Then a voice in the back of the room shouted, “We want to see the famous paintings. Skip this one. “But the auctioneer persisted. “ Will somebody bid for this painting. Who will start the bidding? $100, $200?” Another voice angrily. “We didn’t come to see this painting. We came to see the Van Goghs, the Rembrandts. Get on with the real bids!” But still the auctioneer continued. “The son! The son! Who’ll take the son?”
Finally, a voice came from the very back of the room. It was the longtime gardener of the man and his son. “I’ll give $10 for the painting.” Being a poor man, it was all he could afford. “We have $10, who will bid $20?” “Give it to him for $10. Let’s see the masters.” “$10 is the bid, won’t someone bid $20?” The crowd was becoming angry. They didn’t want the picture of the son. They wanted the more worthy investments for their collections. The auctioneer pounded the gavel. “Going once, twice, SOLD for $10!”
A man sitting on the second row shouted, “Now let’s get on with the collection!” The auctioneer laid down his gavel. “I’m sorry, the auction is over.” “What about the paintings?” “I am sorry. When I was called to conduct this auction, I was told of a secret stipulation in the will. I was not allowed to reveal that stipulation until this time. Only the painting of the son would be auctioned. Whoever bought that painting would inherit the entire estate, including the paintings. The man who took the son gets everything!”
God gave His son over 2,000 years ago to die on the cross. Much like the auctioneer, His message today is: “The son, the son, who’ll take the son?” Because, you see, whoever takes the Son gets everything.
“For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.” John 3:16
Every Rose Has Its Thorn – A Story of Thanksgiving – Sandra felt as low as the heels of her shoes when she pulled open the florist shop door, against a November gust of wind. Her life had been as sweet as a spring breeze and then, in the fourth month of her second pregnancy, a “minor” automobile accident stole her joy . This was Thanksgiving week the time she should have delivered their infant son. She grieved over their loss.
Troubles had multiplied. Her husband’s company “threatened” to transfer his job to a new location. Her sister had called to say that she could not come for her long awaited holiday visit. What’s worse, Sandra ‘s friend suggested that Sandra ‘s grief was a God-given path to maturity that would allow her to empathize with others who suffer.
“She has no idea what I’m feeling,” thought Sandra with a shudder “Thanksgiving? Thankful for what?” she wondered… “For a careless driver whose truck was hardly scratched when he rear-ended me? For an airbag that saved my life, but took my child’s?”
“Good afternoon, can I help you?” Sandra was startled by the approach of the shop clerk. “I, I need an arrangement,” stammered Sandra. “For Thanksgiving? I’m convinced that flowers tell stories, ” she continued… “Are you looking for something that conveys ‘gratitude’ this Thanksgiving?” “Not exactly!” Sandra blurted out. “In the last five months, everything that could go wrong has gone wrong.” Sandra regretted her outburst, and was surprised when the clerk said, “I have the perfect arrangement for you.”
Then the bell on the door rang, and the clerk greeted the new customer….”Hi, Barbara, let me get your order.” She excused herself and walked back to a small workroom, then quickly reappeared, carrying an arrangement of greenery, bows, and what appeared to be long-stemmed thorny roses. Except the ends of the rose stems were neatly snipped: there were no flowers. “Do you want these in a box?” asked the clerk.
Sandra watched – was this a joke? Who would want rose stems with no flowers! She waited for laughter, but neither woman laughed.. “Yes, please,” Barbara replied with an appreciative smile. “You’d think after three years of getting the special, I wouldn’t be so moved by its significance, but I can feel it right here, all over again,” she said, as she gently tapped her chest.
Sandra stammered, “Ah, that lady just left with . . . uh . . . she left with no flowers!” “That’s right,” said the clerk. “I cut off the flowers. That’s the ‘Special’ …I call it the Thanksgiving Thorns Bouquet. Barbara came into the shop three years ago, feeling much as you do today,” explained the clerk. “She thought she had very little to be thankful for. She had just lost her father; the family business was failing; her son had gotten into drugs; and she was facing major surgery. That same year I had lost my husband,” continued the clerk. “For the first time in my life, I had to spend the holidays alone. I had no children, no husband, no family nearby, and too much debt to allow any travel.”
“So what did you do?” asked Sandra. “I learned to be thankful for thorns,” answered the clerk quietly. “I’ve always thanked God for the good things in my life and I never questioned Him why those good things happened to me, but when the bad stuff hit, I cried out, ‘Why? Why me?!’ It took time for me to learn that the dark times are important to our faith! I have always en joyed the ‘flowers’ of my life, but it took the thorns to show me the beauty of God’s comfort!
You know, the Bible says that God comforts us when we’re afflicted, and from His consolation we learn to comfort others.” Sandra sucked in her breath, as she thought about what her friend had tried to tell her. “I guess the truth is I don’t want comfort. I’ve lost a baby and I’m angry with God.”
Just then someone else walked in the shop. “Hey, Phil!” the clerk greeted the balding, rotund man. “My wife sent me in to get our usual Thanksgiving arrangement . . twelve thorny, long-stemmed stems!” laughed Phil as the clerk handed him a tissue wrapped arrangement from the refrigerator. “Those are for your wife?” asked Sandra incredulously. “Do you mind telling me why she wants a bouquet that looks like that?” “Four years ago, my wife and I nearly divorced,” Phil replied. “ After forty years, we were in a real mess, but with the Lord’s grace and guidance, we trudged through problem after problem, the Lord rescued our marriage. Jenny here (the clerk) told me she kept a vase of rose stems to remind her of what she had learned from “thorny” times. That was good enough for me. I took home some of those stems. My wife and I decided to label each one for a specific “problem” and give thanks for what that problem taught us.”
As Phil paid the clerk, he said to Sandra , “I highly recommend the Special!” “I don’t know if I can be thankful for the thorns in my life” Sandra said to the clerk. “It’s all too… fresh.” “Well,” the clerk replied carefully, “my experience has shown me that the thorns make the roses more precious. We treasure God’s providential care more during trouble than at any other time.
Remember that it was a crown of thorns that Jesus wore so we might know His love….Don’t resent the thorns.” Tears rolled down Sandra’s cheeks. For the first time since the accident, she loosened her grip on her resentment. “I’ll take those twelve long-stemmed thorns, please,” she managed to choke out. “I hoped you would,” said the clerk gently. “I’ll have them ready in a minute.” “Thank you. What do I owe you?” “Nothing…Nothing but a promise to allow God to heal your heart…The first year’s arrangement is always on me.” The clerk smiled and handed a card to Sandra.
“I’ll attach this card to your arrangement, but maybe you would like to read it first.” It read: “Dear God, I have never thanked You for my thorns. I have thanked You a thousand times for my roses, but never once for my thorns. Teach me the glory of the cross I bear; teach me the value of my thorns. Show me that I have climbed closer to You along the path of pain. Show me that, through my tears, the colors of Your rainbow look much more brilliant.”
Remember – Every Rose Has Its Thorn – Praise Him for the roses; thank Him for the thorns. With an attitude of gratitude may the Lord bless you this Thanksgiving Season.
“Good morning”, said a woman as she walked up to the man sitting on the ground…The man slowly looked up. This was a woman clearly accustomed to the finer things of life. Her coat was new. She looked like she had never missed a meal in her life. His first thought was that she wanted to make fun of him, like so many others had done before. “Leave me alone,” he growled…
To his amazement, the woman continued standing. She was smiling – her even white teeth displayed in dazzling rows. “Are you hungry?” she asked. “No,” he answered sarcastically. “I’ve just come from dining with the president. Now go away.” The woman’s smile became even broader…Suddenly the man felt a gentle hand under his arm.
“What are you doing, lady?” the man asked angrily. “I said to leave me alone.” Just then a policeman came up… “Is there a problem, ma’am?” he asked…”No problem here, officer,” the woman answered. “I’m just trying to get this man to his feet… Will you help me?”
The officer scratched his head. “That’s old Jack. He’s been a fixture around here for a couple of years. What do you want with him?” “See that cafeteria over there?” she asked “I’m going to get him something to eat and get him out of the cold for awhile.”
“Are you crazy, lady?” the homeless man resisted. “I don’t want to go in there!” Then he felt strong hands grab his other arm and lift him up. “Let me go, officer. I didn’t do anything..” “This is a good deal for you, Jack,” the officer answered. “Don’t blow it.”
Finally, and with some difficulty, the woman and the police officer got Jack into the cafeteria and sat him at a table in a remote corner. It was the middle of the morning, so most of the breakfast crowd had already left and the lunch bunch had not yet arrived…The manager strode across the cafeteria and stood by his table.
“What’s going on here, officer?” he asked. “What is all this about, is this man in trouble?” “This lady brought this man in here to be fed,” the policeman answered. “Not in here!” the manager replied angrily. “Having a person like that here is bad for business.”
Old Jack smiled a toothless grin. “See, lady. I told you so. Now if you’ll let me go. I didn’t want to come here in the first place.”
The woman turned to the cafeteria manager and smiled. “Sir, are you familiar with Eddy and Associates, the banking firm down the street?” “Of course I am,” the manager answered impatiently. “They hold their weekly meetings in one of my 20 banquet rooms.” “And do you make a goodly amount of money providing food at these weekly meetings?” “What business is that of yours?” “I, sir, am Penelope Eddy, president and CEO of the company.” “Oh.”
The woman smiled again. “I thought that might make a difference.” She glanced at the cop who was busy stifling giggle. “Would you like to join us in a cup of coffee and a meal, officer?” “No thanks, ma’am,” the officer replied, “I’m on duty.” Then, perhaps, a cup of coffee to go?” “Yes, ma’am. That would be very nice.”
The cafeteria manager turned on his heel, “I’ll get your coffee right away, officer.” The officer watched him walk away. “You certainly put him in his place,” he said. “That was not my intent. Believe it or not, I have a reason for all this.” She sat down at the table across from her amazed dinner guest.
She stared at him intently. “Jack, do you remember me?” Old Jack searched her face with his old, rheumy eyes.. “I think so — I mean you do look familiar.” “I’m a little older perhaps,” she said…”Maybe I’ve even filled out more than in my younger days when you worked here, and I came through that very door, cold and hungry.”
“Ma’am?” the officer said questioningly. He couldn’t believe that such a magnificently turned out woman could ever have been hungry. “I was just out of college,” the woman began. “I had come to the city looking for a job, but I couldn’t find anything. Finally I was down to my last few cents and had been kicked out of my apartment. I walked the streets for days. It was February and I was cold and nearly starving… I saw this place and walked in on the chance that I could get something to eat.”
Jack lit up with a smile. “Now I remember,” he said. “I was behind the serving counter. You came up and asked me if you could work for something to eat. I said that it was against company policy.” “I know,” the woman continued. “Then you made me the biggest roast beef sandwich that I had ever seen, gave me a cup of coffee, and told me to go over to a corner table and enjoy it. I was afraid that you would get into trouble… Then, when I looked over and saw you put the price of my food in the cash register, I knew then that everything would be all right.”
“So you started your own business?” Old Jack said. “I got a job that very afternoon. I worked my way up. Eventually I started my own business that, with the help of God, prospered.” She opened her purse and pulled out a business card.
“When you are finished here, I want you to pay a visit to a Mr. Lyons…He’s the personnel director of my company. I’ll go talk to him now and I’m certain he’ll find something for you to do around the office.”
She smiled. “I think he might even find the funds to give you a little advance so that you can buy some clothes and get a place to live until you get on your feet… If you ever need anything, my door is always opened to you.”
There were tears in the old man’s eyes. “How can I ever thank you?” he said…”Don’t thank me, ” the woman answered. “To God be the glory – He led me to you.”
Outside the cafeteria, the officer and the woman paused at the entrance before going their separate ways… “Thank you for all your help, officer,” she said. “On the contrary, Ms. Eddy,” he answered. “Thank you. I saw a miracle today, something that I will never forget. And thank you for the coffee.”
Have a wonderful day, and may God bless you always and don’t forget that when you “cast your bread upon the waters,” you never know how it will be returned to you.
God’s love can cover the whole world, and yet small enough to stay in your heart. When God leads you to the edge of the cliff, trust Him fully and let go.
Only 1 of 2 things will happen, either He’ll catch you when you fall, or He’ll teach you how to fly! God closes doors no man can open & God opens doors no man can close.
Have a blessed day and remember you to can be a blessing in someones life.
When Your Hut’s On Fire – Shipwreck Survival 
A wealthy man and his son loved to collect rare works of art. They had everything in their collection, from Picasso to Raphael. They would often sit together and admire the great works of art.
“For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.” John 3:16
Every Rose Has Its Thorn – A Story of Thanksgiving – Sandra felt as low as the heels of her shoes when she pulled open the florist shop door, against a November gust of wind. Her life had been as sweet as a spring breeze and then, in the fourth month of her second pregnancy, a “minor” automobile accident stole her joy . This was Thanksgiving week the time she should have delivered their infant son. She grieved over their loss.
You Reap What You Sow