Time Gets Better With Age

Read through to the end, it gets better as you go!

I’ve learned that I like my teacher because she cries when we sing “Silent Night”.

- Age 5

I’ve learned that our dog doesn’t want to eat my broccoli either.

- Age 7

I’ve learned that when I wave to people in the country, they stop what they are doing and wave back.

- Age 9

I’ve learned that just when I get my room the way I like it, Mom makes me clean it up again.

- Age 12

I’ve learned that if you want to cheer yourself up, you should try cheering someone else up.

- Age 14

I’ve learned that although it’s hard to admit it, I’m secretly glad my parents are strict with me.

- Age 15

I’ve learned that silent company is often more healing than words of advice.

- Age 24

I’ve learned that brushing my child’s hair is one of life’s great pleasures.

- Age 26

I’ve learned that wherever I go, the world’s worst drivers have followed me there.

- Age 29

I’ve learned that if someone says something unkind about me, I must live so that no one will believe it.

- Age 30

I’ve learned that there are people who love you dearly but just don’t know how to show it.

- Age 42

I’ve learned that you can make some one’s day by simply sending them a little note.

- Age 44

I’ve learned that the greater a person’s sense of guilt, the greater his or her need to cast blame on others.

- Age 46

I’ve learned that children and grandparents are natural allies.

- Age 47

I’ve learned that no matter what happens, or how bad it seems today, life does go on, and it will be better tomorrow.

- Age 48

I’ve learned that singing “Amazing Grace” can lift my spirits for hours.

- Age 49

I’ve learned that motel mattresses are better on the side away from the phone.

- Age 50

I’ve learned that you can tell a lot about a man by the way he handles these three things: a rainy day, lost luggage, and tangled Christmas tree lights.

- Age 51

I’ve learned that keeping a vegetable garden is worth a medicine cabinet full of pills.

- Age 52

I’ve learned that regardless of your relationship with your parents, you miss them terribly after they die.

- Age 53

I’ve learned that making a living is not the same thing as making a life.

- Age 58

I’ve learned that if you want to do something positive for your children, work to improve your marriage.

- Age 61

I’ve learned that life sometimes gives you a second chance.

- Age 62


I’ve learned that you shouldn’t go through life with a catchers mitt on both hands. You need to be able to throw something back.

- Age 64

I’ve learned that if you pursue happiness, it will elude you. But if you focus on your family, the needs of others, your work, meeting new people, and doing the very best you can, happiness will find you.

- Age 65

I’ve learned that whenever I decide something with kindness, I usually make the right decision.

- Age 66

I’ve learned that everyone can use a prayer.

- Age 72

I’ve learned that even when I have pains, I don’t have to be one.

- Age 82

I’ve learned that every day you should reach out and touch someone. People love that human touch-holding hands, a warm hug, or just a friendly pat on the back.

- Age 90

I’ve learned that I still have a lot to learn.

- Age 92

Tommy’s Story

Rev. John Powell, a professor at Loyola University in Chicago, writes about a student in his Theology of Faith class named Tommy:

Some twelve years ago, I stood watching my university students file into the classroom for our first session in the Theology of Faith. That was the day I first saw Tommy. My eyes and my mind both blinked. He was combing his long flaxen hair, which hung six inches below his shoulders. It was the first time I had ever seen a boy with hair that long. I guess it was just coming into fashion then. I know in my mind that it isn’t what’s on your head but what’s in it that counts; but on that day I was unprepared and my emotions flipped. I immediately filed Tommy under “S” for strange… Very strange.

Tommy turned out to be the “Atheist in residence” in my Theology of Faith course. He constantly objected to, smirked at, or whined about the possibility of an unconditionally loving Father/God. We lived with each other in relative peace for one semester, although I admit he was for me at times a serious pain in the back pew. When he came up at the end of the course to turn in his final exam, he asked in a cynical tone, “Do you think I’ll ever find God?” I decided instantly on a little shock therapy. “No!” I said very emphatically. “Why not,” he responded, “I thought that was the product you were pushing.” I let him get five steps from the classroom door and then called out, “Tommy! I don’t think you’ll ever find Him, but I am absolutely certain that He will find you!”

He shrugged a little and left my class and my life.

I felt slightly disappointed at the thought that he had missed my clever line — He will find you! At least I thought it was clever. Later I heard that Tommy had graduated, and I was duly grateful.

Then a sad report came. I heard that Tommy had terminal cancer. Before I could search him out, he came to see me. When he walked into my office, his body was very badly wasted and the long hair had all fallen out as a result of chemotherapy. But his eyes were bright and his voice was firm, for the first time, I believe. “Tommy, I’ve thought about you so often; I hear you are sick,” I blurted out. “Oh, yes, very sick. I have cancer in both lungs. It’s a matter of weeks.” “Can you talk about it, Tom?” I asked. “Sure, what would you like to know?” he replied. “What’s it like to be only twenty-four and dying?” “Well, it could be worse.” “Like What?” “Well like being fifty, and having no values, thinking that drinking booze, seducing women, and making money are the real biggies in life.” I began looking through my mental file cabinet under “S” where I had filed Tommy as strange. (It seems as though everybody I try to reject by classification, God sends back into my life to educate me.)

“But what I really came to see you about,” Tom said, “is something you said to me on the last day of class.” (He remembered!) He continued, “I asked you if you thought I would ever find God and you said, ‘No!’ which surprised me. Then you said, ‘But He will find you.’ I thought about that a lot, even though my search for God was hardly intense at that time.” (My clever line. He thought about that a lot!)

“But when the doctors removed a lump from my groin and told me that it was malignant, that’s when I got serious about locating God. And when the malignancy spread into my vital organs, I really began banging bloody fists against the bronze doors of heaven. But God did not come out. In fact, nothing happened. Did you ever try anything for a long time with great effort and with no success? You get psychologically glutted, fed up with trying. And then you quit.

“Well, one day I woke up, and instead of throwing a few more futile appeals over that high brick wall to a God who may be or may not be there, I just quit. I decided that I didn’t really care about God, about an after life, or anything like that. I decided to spend what time I had left doing something more profitable. I thought about you and your class and I remembered something else you had said: ‘The essential sadness is to go through life without loving. But it would be almost equally sad to go through life and leave this world without ever telling those you loved that you had loved them.’” “So, I began with the hardest one, my Dad. He was reading the newspaper when I approached him. “Dad. “Yes, what?” he asked without lowering the newspaper. “Dad, I would like to talk with you.” “Well, talk.” “I mean . It’s really important.”

The newspaper came down three slow inches. “What is it?” “Dad, I love you, I just wanted you to know that.” Tom smiled at me and said it with obvious satisfaction, as though he felt a warm and secret joy flowing inside of him. “The newspaper fluttered to the floor. Then my father did two things I could never remember him ever doing before.. He cried and he hugged me. We talked all night, even though he had to go to work the next morning. It felt so good to be close to my father, to see his tears, to feel his hug, to hear him say that he loved me.”

“It was easier with my mother and little brother. They cried with me, too, and we hugged each other, and started saying real nice things to each other. We shared the things we had been keeping secret for so many years.

“I was only sorry about one thing — that I had waited so long. Here I was, just beginning to open up to all the people I had actually been close to.

“Then, one day I turned around and God was there. He didn’t come to me when I pleaded with Him. I guess I was like an animal trainer holding out a hoop, ‘C’mon, jump through. C’mon, I’ll give you three days, three weeks.’”

“Apparently God does things in His own way and at His own hour. But the important thing is that He was there. He found me! You were right. He found me even after I stopped looking for Him.”

“Tommy,” I practically gasped, “I think you are saying something very important and much more universal than you realize. To me, at least, you are saying that the surest way to find God is not to make Him a private possession, a problem solver, or an instant consolation in time of need, but rather by opening to love. You know, the Apostle John said that. He said: ‘God is love, and anyone who lives in love is living with God and God is living in him.’ Tom, could I ask you a favor? You know, when I had you in class you were a real pain. But (laughingly) you can make it all up to me now. Would you come into my present Theology of Faith course and tell them what you have just told me? If I told them the same thing it wouldn’t be half as effective as if you were to tell it.”

“Oooh.. I was ready for you, but I don’t know if I’m ready for your class.”

“Tom, think about it. If and when you are ready, give me a call.”

In a few days Tom called, said he was ready for the class, that he wanted to do that for God and for me. So we scheduled a date.

However, he never made it. He had another appointment, far more important than the one with me and my class. Of course, his life was not really ended by his death, only changed. He made the great step from faith into vision. He found a life far more beautiful than the eye of man has ever seen or the ear of man has ever heard or the mind of man has ever imagined. Before he died, we talked one last time. “I’m not going to make it to your class,” he said.

“I know, Tom.”

“Will you tell them for me? Will you … tell the whole world for me?” “I will, Tom. I’ll tell them. I’ll do my best.”

So, to all of you who have been kind enough to read this simple story about God’s love, thank you for listening. And to you, Tommy, somewhere in the sunlit, verdant hills of heaven — I told them, Tommy, as best I could.

- Rev. John Powell, Professor, Loyola University, Chicago

Almighty Father, give me the grace to open up my self to love. So that in doing so, I may allow You to find me — to heal me, to empower me, and to transform me more and more into the person You have destined me to be. Amen.

The Difference Between Rich and Poor People

This short story does not justify poverty nor condemn wealth. It just aims to show us a different perspective of life and tries to remind us to appreciate whatever it is that we are blessed with.

The Difference Between Rich and Poor People

One day, the father of a very wealthy family took his son on a trip to the country with the express purpose of showing him how poor people live.

They spent a couple of days and nights on the farm of what would be considered a very poor family.

On their return from their trip, the father asked his son, “How was the trip?”

“It was great, Dad.”

“Did you see how poor people live?” the father asked.

“Oh yeah,” said the son.

“So, tell me, what did you learn from the trip?” asked the father.

The son answered:

“I saw that we have one dog and they had four.

We have a pool that reaches to the middle of our garden and they have a creek that has no end.

We have imported lanterns in our garden and they have the stars at night.

Our patio reaches to the front yard and they have the whole horizon.

We have a small piece of land to live on and they have fields that go beyond our sight.

We have servants who serve us, but they serve others.

We buy our food, but they grow theirs.

We have walls around our property to protect us, they have friends to protect them.”

The boy’s father was speechless.

Then his son added, “Thanks Dad for showing me how poor we are.”

Isn’t perspective a wonderful thing? Makes you wonder what would happen if we all gave thanks for everything we have, instead of worrying about what we don’t have.

Appreciate every single thing you have, including your real friends!

“Life is too short and real friends are too few.”

Take care of your parents…

Another one of those inspiring articles being passed around through emails. This is worth reading.

And please do realize that the best time to show our love to our parents is now.

In this short but moving story, a simple man tells how his booking an air ticket for his father, his first flight, brought emotions and made him realize how much and how often we take for granted our parents.

My parents left for our native place on Thursday and we went to the Airport to see them off. In fact, my father had never travelled by air before, so I just took this opportunity to make him experience the same. In spite of being asked to book tickets by train, I got them tickets on Lufthansa.

The moment I handed over the tickets to him, he was surprised to see that I had booked them by air. The excitement was very apparent on his face, waiting for the time of travel. Just like a school boy, he was preparing himself on that day and we all went to the airport, right from using the trolley for his luggage, the baggage check-in and asking for window seat and waiting restlessly for the security check-in to happen.

He was thoroughly enjoying himself and I, too, was overcome with joy watching him experience all these things.

As they were about to go in for the security check-in, he walked up to me with tears in his eyes and thanked me. He became very emotional and it was not as if I had done something great but the fact that this meant a great deal to him.

When he said thanks, I told him there was no need to thank me.

But later, thinking about the entire incident, I looked back at my life.

As a child, how many dreams have our parents made come true? Without understanding the financial situation, we ask for football, dresses, toys, outings, etc. Irrespective of their affordability, they have satisfied all our needs. Did we ever think about the sacrifices they had to make to accommodate many of our wishes?

Did we ever say thanks for all that they have done for us?

Same way, today, when it comes to our children, we always think that we should put them in a good school. Regardless of the amount of donation, we will ensure that we will have to give the child the best — theme parks, toys, etc. But we tend to forget that our parents have sacrificed a lot for our sake to see us happy, so it is our responsibility to ensure that their dreams are realized and what they failed to see when they were young, it is our responsibility to ensure that they experience all those and that their life is complete.

Many times, when my parents had asked me some questions, I have actually answered back without patience. When my daughter asks me something, I have been very polite in answering. Now I realize how they would have felt at those moments.

Let us realize that old age is a second childhood and just as we take care of our children, the same attention and same care need to be given to our parents and elders.

Rather than my dad saying thank you to me, I would want to say sorry for making him wait so long for this small dream. I do realize how much he has sacrificed for my sake and I will do my best to give the best possible attention to all their wishes. Just because they are old does not mean that they will have to give up everything and keep sacrificing for their grandchildren also. They have wishes, too.

Take care of your parents.

Prayer for a Happy Death

By Corazon C. Aquino
Philippine Daily Inquirer, 07/10/2009

Almighty God, most merciful Father
You alone know the time
You alone know the hour
You alone know the moment
When I shall breathe my last.

So, remind me each day,
most loving Father
To be the best that I can be.
To be humble, to be kind,
To be patient, to be true.
To embrace what is good,
To reject what is evil,
To adore only You.

When the final moment does come
Let not my loved ones grieve for long.
Let them comfort each other
And let them know
how much happiness
They brought into my life.
Let them pray for me,
As I will continue to pray for them,
Hoping that they will always pray
for each other.

Let them know that they made possible
Whatever good I offered to our world.
And let them realize that our separation
Is just for a short while
As we prepare for our reunion in eternity.

Our Father in heaven,
You alone are my hope.
You alone are my salvation.
Thank you for your unconditional love, Amen.

Eternal rest grant unto the soul of our beloved Former President Corazon C. Aquino, oh God;

and let Perpetual Light shine upon her.

May she rest in peace. Amen.

What Kind Of Daddy Do You Have?

… prayers …

I am so moved by this week’s article of Bo Sanchez that I really had to share this with you. You may want to visit his website and subscribe to his weekly Soulfood Letter that will surely nourish your soul and help you become a better man or woman for God’s greater glory.

I pray that this article would bless you in a lot of ways.

And as Bo always says, “May your dreams come true!”

http://bosanchez.ph/what-kind-of-daddy-do-you-have/

What Kind of Daddy Do You Have?

by Bo Sanchez (full article)

A college student in Manila called up his Mom in the province.

“Mom, I need money,” he asked. “Can you send money over please?”

“Sure,” the mother said. “By the way, there’s a Math textbook you left here at home. I’ll send it over with the money.”

“Uh, oh yeah, Ok,” her son answered.

His mother sent the money and the book.

Later that day, the father asked his wife, “How much money did you send?”

She said, “I sent two checks. One was a P1000 check and the other was a P100,000 check.”

“What?” cried the father in shock. “That’s huge!”

His wife smiled. “That’s okay Honey. I taped the P1000 check on the cover of his Math textbook. I then inserted the P100,000 check somewhere in chapter 25 of his Math textbook. Believe me, he won’t find it.”

Your relationship with God is like a Math textbook. Because I believe the biggest blessings of God for your life are in “chapter 25”—when you go beyond the surface and go deeper in this relationship with God.

My goal today is to bring you to chapter 25 in your relationship with God.

Let me tell you how.

I want to start a new series today I’ll playfully call, OMG! If you don’t know what that means, LOL. (For those my age who didn’t grow up with chat and IM and facebook: OMG! means Oh my God and LOL means Laugh out loud.)

For the next five weeks, I want to help you get to know God more—which will deepen your trust in Him. And the more you trust Him, the more you’ll be open to His blessings for your life.

I’ve met a lot of people who don’t trust God because they don’t know Him. They’re confused with misrepresentations of who God is.

Here’s what I learned: Your problems are big because your God is small.

Before Anything Else, God Is Daddy

I just arrived from the US the other day.

It was my shortest trip ever: Four days!

But I had to do it.

I was there to meet a very special man who was a spiritual mentor to Presidents, Kings, Prime Ministers, and other heads of government. In other words, he disciples them to follow Jesus. He’s awesome.

This spiritual giant has been working in the United Nations for the past 25 years. Each month, he holds 30+ face-to-face meetings with heads of government, ambassadors, and other high-level officials, guiding them how to lead their country using the Bible.

So for three whole days, I sat around his table (we were just four students—myself, two bishops, and a secretary general) to learn one thing: How to disciple Heads of States. It was mind-blowing.

So on my way back, I felt very important too.

I mean, how couldn’t I?

I spent three days with a guy who takes phone calls from Presidents and Prime Ministers before he has breakfast. How cool is that?

But the moment my plane landed in Manila, everything became clear to me. I knew the first Heads of States I would meet.

That entire day, upon arriving from the airport, I spent time with the two Kings who’ve conquered my heart since I saw them: My two boys—ages 9 and 4.

Together, we did very high-level, critical, world-changing, life-altering work.

We drew robots and airplanes.

We played with little cars.

We played a video game (I lost, as usual).

We jumped around the coach.

Why did I spend the entire day with them?

Because I believe that before I’m a preacher, writer, leader, missionary, and businessman, I’m a father.

And I suspect that God will say the same thing. This is just my personal opinion. I think before God is supreme judge and king of kings of the entire universe, He’s a Father. That’s why when someone asked Jesus, “Teach us how to pray,” He answered, “Say this: Our Father…”

The original word that Jesus used for “Father” is Abba, which doesn’t really translate to Father but Daddy or Papa. It was what a little baby would call his father.

But as I played with my boys yesterday, I began to think of all the other children who don’t experience what they experience. And I believe that one of the reasons why we don’t know God as Father is because of the wrong fatherhood we’ve experienced.

Specifically, I thought of four of my friends: Emmanuel, Grace, Dulce, and Fides. I’ve changed their names to protect their privacy.

But unfortunately, their stories are true.

Invisible Fathers

My friend Emmanuel’s father was a lawyer. Later on, he became a judge and was promoted all the way to the Supreme Court.

Emmanuel was proud of his father. But when our conversations became intimate, he’d tear up, and tell me that he rarely saw his father. When he woke up, his father was rushing out for his breakfast meetings. In the evenings, his father wasn’t home yet.

Emmanuel grew up knowing his father was an important man doing very important things. But as he grew up, he realized he wasn’t one of these important things his father did.

Years later, Emmanuel came to know God in a personal way. Yet for years, he wondered how important he really was in God’s heart.

Autistic Fathers

Some fathers are physically present at home.

But they don’t engage their kids.

Instead, they’re wrapped up in their own world. Either watching TV or surfing the web. That’s why I call them autistic fathers.

Many years ago, I met Grace. She told me that as a child, her goal in life was to make her father smile at her. Because he never did.

Oh, she would find him laughing with his barkada.

But never to her.

One day, she came home with very high grades on her report card. In her heart, she hoped that perhaps today, he would smile at her.

But when she gave him the report card, all her father did was look at it for two seconds, grunt, tossed it back, and went back watching TV.

Not one word of affirmation or appreciation.

Her little heart was crushed.

For years, Grace had a hard time imagining that God was pleased with her. She always imagined God having a perpetual frown on his face.

Cruel Fathers

Dulce’s father is the most barbaric father I’ve ever heard of in my life.

When she was 3 years old, he raped her.

Years later, she always had this nightmare of her head being pushed into a toilet bowl. She realized why. Because her father warned her not to tell anyone of the rape or he’d drown her in the toilet.

For the next ten years, for the slightest mistakes (such as a spilled glass of milk), her father would whip her with his belt until blood flowed. When he was lashing her, her mother would tell him, “Don’t hit her below the knees!” So that the wounds would be covered by her skirt.

He would then grab her ankles, hang her upside down, and bang her head on the floor. He would do this for thirty minutes until she stopped crying and was a lifeless rag in his hands. He would do this each week for ten long years.

Here’s the absurd fact of this story: Until the day he died, her father was an elder and deacon in church. To everyone else, he was an angel. Upon arriving home, he was the devil incarnate—and no one knew.

Dulce is now an adult but suffers massive physical, emotional, and spiritual torments. She has gone through 9 surgeries in various parts of her body. Her doctors discovered micro-strokes in her brain, caused by the head banging she suffered as a child. But her emotional pain was even more severe than her physical pain.

I’m happy to say that Dulce enjoys an intimate relationship with God. God has healed and continues to heal her. But it took years of healing and learning to trust a tender loving Father.

Unfaithful Father

Fides was still a small child when she saw her father walk out of their house carrying his suitcase. At that time, she didn’t know that he was abandoning her, her mother, and her two brothers for another woman.

Unlike her brothers who rebelled and got into drugs, Fides became even more obedient. She became even more responsible. Her school grades shot to the moon. Everyone praised her for being such a good girl.

Later on, Fides realized she blamed herself for the separation of her parents. Inexplicably, she believed that if she were only a better girl, her father would have never left. And for years, she secretly hoped that if she became that better girl, perhaps her father would come back.

For years, Fides’ relationship with God was also about buying His love. She would always try to be good to try to please Him—so He would love her. She had this constant fear that if she made one mistake, God would abandon her too.

May The Real God The Father Please Stand Up?

For many Christians, it’s so much easier to pray to Jesus. After all, He died for our sins. He’s the sweet one. The Father was the mean guy who sent Jesus to die on the cross.

And for many Catholics, it’s so much easier to pray to Mother Mary than to God the Father. Because they believe Mary is more merciful than God. If you can’t go through the front door, go to the back door—Mary has the key.

Which is utterly preposterous.

We have these difficulties because we don’t know who the Father really is.

The Father and the Son are one. And Mother Mary is a beautiful reflection of God’s love for us.

May the real God The Father please stand up?

I changed the names of our four real-life characters. I chose each name deliberately to show you who God the Father is: He is Emmanuel, Grace, Dulce, and Fides.

Daddy Is Emmanuel

A tribe in Africa had a very scary manhood ritual.

When a boy turned 12, the entire community gathered around him for this once-in-a-life-time chanting and dancing ceremony. The elderly women painted red die on his face. His mother gave him a beaded necklace. And the tribal chieftain handed him a long knife with a carved wooden handle.

By nightfall, he was blindfolded and led by six men into the middle of the forest. Once deep inside, the men left him. Alone. In total pitch darkness.

The instruction was simple. Survive until dawn, and he gets accepted as a real man in the tribe.

But the young boy knew very well that the forest was an incredibly dangerous place. It was the home of tigers. Snakes. Bears. Hyenas.

And so for the entire night, this scrawny little 12-year-old boy was now all alone in the forest. The entire night, he held his knife trembling in his hand. Not for one moment could he rest. Try as he might, his eyes could see nothing but shadows around him. In his imagination, every little sound—even a leaf swaying in the wind—was a wild animal ready to pounce on him at any moment.

The whole night, he could hear his heart pounding in his chest.

When his terror overwhelmed him, tears ran down his cheeks. He wanted to shout, “I’m just a little boy! I’m not ready yet to be a man!” But who could hear him now? He was all alone.

But after many hours of fighting his fear and exhaustion, his eyes could see more clearly. Dawn was approaching. The first shafts of sunlight pierced through the thick canopy of leaves above him.

That was when the little boy felt something move behind him.

In terror, he turned around.

And there, standing tall on a rock behind him, was the towering figure of a fierce-looking man holding a long spear.

The boy shouted, “Daddy!”

The father smiled.

“When did you arrive?” the boy asked, “Are you here to pick me up?”

The father said, “Before you arrived last night, I was already here. I stood guard, protecting you the whole time. I never left you for one moment, my son.”

Daddy is Emmanuel—which means God with us.

Friend, I don’t know what darkness you’re going through right now. Perhaps you’re praying for your child who is on drugs. Or your husband is having an affair. Or you’re having financial problems right now. Remember that in your darkness, God is with you. He will never leave or abandon you.

When you’re in pain, God embraces you and feels your pain. He weeps with you. Because Daddy is Emmanuel.

Daddy is Grace

When I think of Grace giving her very high report card to her father—and all he did was grunt—I remember my own experience with my report card.

When I was in grade school, my report card had red marks. (At least, it was colored. Yours was just black and white.) Because I failed in Math and Pilipino.

That day, I went up to Mom and showed her my report card.

All she said was, “Show it to your father.”

Gulp. Oh boy. I walked up to Dad and gave it to him.

He read it, nodded his head, and handed it back to me, and said, “Son, just study some more.”

No spanking. No scolding. No disapproval.

He then said, “Let’s eat.”

That’s why for the rest of my academic life, I kept failing. (Hehe.)

I guess Dad knew that my brilliance wasn’t in academics. It would bloom elsewhere. (Ahem.)

I thank God for having parents who loved me whether I performed in school or not. They just loved me, period. Unconditionally.

Daddy means Grace. Grace means gift.

Two weeks ago, my son Bene came up to me and showed me his Math exam. He was sad because out of 100 points, he got 92. I couldn’t help but laugh. Because if I got 92, my mother would have fainted. Because when I was a kid, out of 100 points, I would get 36. One time, I got 28. I would show those test papers to Dad. And all he’d say was, “Just do better next time.”

Grace means “free gift”.

Here’s my point: You don’t have to please God so that He loves you. He loves you as you are. He accepts you totally.

I don’t care what sin you committed. I don’t care how many times you’ve done it. God loves you and will forgive you of your sins. It will be this love that will bring you to repentance and a new life.

Because Daddy is grace.

Daddy Is Dulce

Dulce means sweet.

I believe God is the sweetest Daddy in the world.

A few years ago, I was in a preaching tour in the US.

I remember one big event. After the last song, I was signing my books. There was an unusually long line of people who wanted my autograph. In front of me were four ushers telling people to wait for their turn.

That was when someone ran past the long line of people, squeezed himself in between the ushers, and ducked underneath the table. He then climbed on my lap, handed me a bottle of water, and said, “Please open, Daddy. I’m thirsty.”

Bene was four years old at that time.

Obviously, I stopped signing books and opened his bottle.

How could Bene do that? Because he was my son and I was his Daddy.

He was confident that I wouldn’t reject him. He knew that I loved him more than the entire world.

This is what Jesus meant when he taught us the “Our Father”.

Like Bene, we too can run to God, climb on his lap, and ask for what we need.

Because Daddy is dulce.

Daddy Is Fides

I like to believe I’m a good father.

But I’m nothing compared to Dick Hoyt and his love for his son Rick.

In 1962, while baby Rick was in the womb of his mother, he was strangled by the umbilical cord—causing a lack of oxygen in his brain. He suffered cerebral palsy and couldn’t speak or control his arms or legs.

As an eight month old baby, doctors told Dick and his wife Judy to place the child in an institution. “Because he was going to be a vegetable all his life,” they said. But the parents refused and brought him home. Dick promised that he would try to give his son as normal a life as possible.

Fast forward today: Dick learned that Rick loved sports. After a lot of pain and exercise (Dick wasn’t athletic), he pushed Rick in a wheelchair in a 5 kilometer run. After the Run, Rick said that while he was in the race, he didn’t feel an invalid.

That was the start of a great adventure. Today, this father-and-son team has participated in 66 marathons and 229 triathlons.

While running, Dick would push his son in a wheelchair.

While swimming, Dick would pull him in a rubber boat.

While biking, Dick would carry him at the front of his bike.

When I watched the life of Dick and Rick Hoyt, I saw a glimpse of God’s love. This is the Father’s love for you.

I don’t know about you, but I must admit that I’m handicapped in many areas of my life. I’ve got weaknesses I still battle to this day.

But in this adventure called life, I’ve experienced my God pushing me, pulling me, and carrying me in his arms.

I know God does the same to you.

Fides means faith. The root word for faithfulness.

God has faith in you. He believes in you.

Daddy is fides.

Next week, I’ll talk about God as Leader.

May your dreams come true,

Bo Sanchez

The Paradox of Our Time

This article was written by Dr. Moorehead in 1990. He is a minister, author, and former pastor of Overlake Christian Church in Redmond, Washington. This was later published in 1995 in his book “Words Aptly Spoken”.

The Paradox of Our Time

The paradox of our time in history is that we have taller buildings but shorter tempers, wider freeways, but narrower viewpoints. We spend more, but have less, we buy more, but enjoy less. We have bigger houses and smaller families, more conveniences, but less time. We have more degrees but less sense, more knowledge, but less judgment, more experts, yet more problems, more medicine, but less wellness.

We drink too much, smoke too much, spend too recklessly, laugh too little, drive too fast, get too angry, stay up too late, get up too tired, read too little, watch TV too much, and pray too seldom.

We have multiplied our possessions, but reduced our values. We talk too much, love too seldom, and hate too often.

We’ve learned how to make a living, but not a life. We’ve added years to life not life to years. We’ve been all the way to the moon and back, but have trouble crossing the street to meet a new neighbor. We conquered outer space but not inner space. We’ve done larger things, but not better things.

We’ve cleaned up the air, but polluted the soul. We’ve conquered the atom, but not our prejudice… We write more, but learn less. We plan more, but accomplish less. We’ve learned to rush, but not to wait. We build more computers to hold more information, to produce more copies than ever, but we communicate less and less.

These are the times of fast foods and slow digestion, big men and small character, steep profits and shallow relationships. These are the days of two incomes but more divorce, fancier houses, but broken homes. These are days of quick trips, disposable diapers, throwaway morality, one night stands, overweight bodies, and pills that do everything from cheer, to quiet, to kill. It is a time when there is much in the showroom window and nothing in the stockroom. A time when technology can bring this letter to you, and a time when you can choose either to share this insight, or to just hit delete…

Remember, spend some time with your loved ones, because they are not going to be around forever.

Remember, say a kind word to someone who looks up to you in awe, because that little person soon will grow up and leave your side.

Remember, to give a warm hug to the one next to you, because that is the only treasure you can give with your heart and it doesn’t cost a cent.

Remember, to say, ‘I love you’ to your partner and your loved ones, but most of all mean it. A kiss and an embrace will mend hurt when it comes from deep inside of you.

Remember to hold hands and cherish the moment for someday that person will not be there again.

Give time to love, give time to speak! And give time to share the precious thoughts in your mind.

“Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away.”

Faith

An atheist professor of philosophy speaks to his class on the problem science has with God, The Almighty. He asks one of his new Christian students to stand and…..

Prof: You are a Christian, aren’t you, son?

Student: Yes, sir.

Prof: So you believe in God?

Student: Absolutely, sir.

Prof: Is God good?

Student: Sure.

Prof: Is God all-powerful?

Student : Yes.

Prof: My brother died of cancer even though he prayed to God to heal him. Most of us would attempt to help others who are ill. But God didn’t. How is this God good then? Hmm?

(Student is silent.)

Prof: You can’t answer, can you? Let’s start again, young fella. Is God good?

Student :Yes.

Prof: Is Satan good?

Student : No.

Prof: Where does Satan come from?

Student : From…God…

Prof: That’s right. Tell me son, is there evil in this world?

Student : Yes.

Prof: Evil is everywhere, isn’t it? And God did make everything. Correct?

Student : Yes.

Prof: So who created evil?

(Student does not answer.)

Prof: Is there sickness? Immorality? Hatred? Ugliness? All these terrible things exist in the world, don’t they?

Student :Yes, sir.

Prof: So, who created them?

(Student has no answer.)

Prof: Science says you have 5 senses you use to identify and observe the world around you. Tell me, son…Have you ever seen God?

Student : No, sir.

Prof: Tell us if you have ever heard your God?

Student : No, sir.

Prof: Have you ever felt your God, tasted your God, smelled your God? Have you ever had any sensory perception of God for that matter?

Student : No, sir. I’m afraid I haven’t.

Prof: Yet you still believe in Him?

Student : Yes.

Prof: According to empirical, testable, demonstrable protocol, science says your GOD doesn’t exist. What do you say to that, son?

Student : Nothing. I only have my faith.

Prof: Yes. Faith. And that is the problem science has.

Student : Professor, is there such a thing as heat?

Prof: Yes.

Student : And is there such a thing as cold?

Prof: Yes.

Student : No sir. There isn’t.

(The lecture theatre becomes very quiet with this turn of events.)

Student : Sir, you can have lots of heat, even more heat, superheat, mega heat, white heat, a little heat or no heat. But we don’t have anything called cold. We can hit 458 degrees below zero which is no heat, but we can’t go any further after that. There is no such thing as cold. Cold is only a word we use to describe the absence of heat. We cannot measure cold. Heat is energy. Cold is not the opposite of heat, sir, just the absence of it.

(There is pin-drop silence in the lecture theatre.)

Student : What about darkness, Professor? Is there such a thing as darkness?

Prof: Yes. What is night if there isn’t darkness?

Student : You’re wrong again, sir. Darkness is the absence of something. You can have low light, normal light, bright light, flashing light….But if you have no light constantly, you have nothing and it’s called darkness, isn’t it? In reality, darkness isn’t. If it were, you would be able to make darkness darker, wouldn’t you?

Prof: So what is the point you are making, young man?

Student : Sir, my point is your philosophical premise is flawed.

Prof: Flawed? Can you explain how?

Student : Sir, you are working on the premise of duality. You argue there is life and then there is death, a good God and a bad God. You are viewing the concept of God as something finite, something we can measure. Sir, science can’t even explain a thought. It uses electricity and magnetism, but has never seen, much less fully understood either one. To view death as the opposite of life is to be ignorant of the fact that death cannot exist as asubstantive thing. Death is not the opposite of life: just the absence of it. Now tell me, Professor. Do you teach your students that they evolved from a monkey?

Prof: If you are referring to the natural evolutionary process, yes, of course, I do.

Student : Have you ever observed evolution with your own eyes, sir?

(The Professor shakes his head with a smile, beginning to realize where the argument is going.)

Student : Since no one has ever observed the process of evolution at work and cannot even prove that this process is an on-going endeavour, are you not teaching your opinion, sir? Are you not a scientist but a preacher?

(The class is in uproar.)

Student : Is there anyone in the class who has ever seen the Professor’s brain?

(The class breaks out into laughter.)

Student : Is there anyone here who has ever heard the Professor’s brain, felt it, touched or smelled it?…..No one appears to have done so. So, according to the established rules of empirical, stable, demonstrable protocol, science says that you have no brain, sir. With all due respect, sir, how do we then trust your lectures, sir?

(The room is silent. The professor stares at the student, his face unfathomable.)

Prof: I guess you’ll have to take them on faith, son.

Student : That is it, sir.. The link between man & God is FAITH. That is all that keeps things moving & alive.

Proverbs 3:5-6 (New International Version)

5 Trust in the LORD with all your heart
and lean not on your own understanding;

6 in all your ways acknowledge him,
and he will make your paths straight.

In God's Eyes

This is quite a long read. But it should be worth it. I need not say much. Yet I have to admit that this has brought tears to my eyes.

IN GOD’S EYES
by Candace Carteen, Portland, Oregon

By the time I was ten, I was totally ashamed of my father. All my friends called him names: Quasi-Moto, hunchback, monster, little Frankenstein, the crooked little man with the crooked little cane. At first it hurt when they called him those things, but soon I found myself agreeing with them. He was ugly, and I knew it!

My father was born with something called parastremmatic dwarfism. The disease made him stop growing when he was about thirteen and caused his body to twist and turn into a grotesque shape. It wasn’t too bad when he was a kid. I saw pictures of him when he was about my age. He was a little short but quite good-looking. Even when he met my mother and married her when he was nineteen, he still looked pretty normal. He was still short and walked with a slight limp, but he was able to do just about anything. Mother said, “He even
used to be a great dancer.”

Soon after my birth, things started getting worse. Another genetic disorder took over, and his left foot started turning out, almost backward. His head and neck shifted over to the right; his neck became rigid and he had to look over his left shoulder a bit. His right arm curled in and up, and his index finger almost touched his elbow. His spine warped to look something like a big, old roller
coaster and it caused his torso to lie sideways instead of straight up and down like a normal person. His walk became slow, awkward, and deliberate. He had to almost drag his left foot as he used his deformed right arm to balance his gait.

I hated to be seen with him. Everyone stared. They seemed to pity me. I knew he must have done something really bad to have God hate him that much.

By the time I was seventeen, I was blaming all my problems on my father. I didn’t have the right boyfriends because of him. I didn’t drive the right car because of him. I wasn’t pretty enough because of him. I didn’t have the right jobs because of him. I wasn’t happy because of him.

Anything that was wrong with me, or my life, was because of him. If my father had been good-looking like Jane’s father, or successful like Paul’s father, or worldly like Terry’s father, I would be perfect! I knew that for sure.

The night of my senior prom came, and Father had to place one more nail in my coffin; he had volunteered to be one of the chaperones at the dance. My heart just sank when he told me. I stormed into my room, slammed the door, threw myself on the bed, and cried. “Three more weeks and I’ll be out of here!” I screamed into my pillow. “Three more weeks and I will have graduated and be moving away to college.” I sat up and took a deep breath. “God, please make my father go away and leave me alone. He keeps sticking his big nose in everything I do. Just make him disappear, so that I can have a good time at the dance.”

I got dressed, my date picked me up, and we went to the prom. Father followed in his car behind us. When we arrived, Father seemed to vanish into the pink chiffon drapes that hung everywhere in the auditorium. I thanked God that He had heard my prayer. At least now I could have some fun.

Midway through the dance, Father came out from behind the drapes and decided to embarrass me again. He started dancing with my girlfriends. One by one, he took their hand and led them to the dance floor. He then clumsily moved them in circles as the band played. Now I tried to vanish into the drapes. After Jane had danced with him, she headed my way. Oh, no! I thought. She’s going to tell me he stomped on her foot or something.

“Grace,” she called, “you have the greatest father.”

My face fell. “What?”

She smiled at me and grabbed my shoulders. “Your father’s just the best. He’s funny, kind, and always finds the time to be where you need him. I wish my father was more like that.”

For one of the first times in my life, I couldn’t talk. Her words confused me.

“What do you mean?” I asked her.

Jane looked at me really strangely. “What do you mean, what do I mean? Your father’s wonderful. I remember when we were kids, and I’d sleep over at your house. He’d always come into your room, sit down in the chair between the twin beds, and read us a book. I’m not sure my father can even read,” she sighed, and then smiled. “Thanks for sharing him.”

Then, Jane ran off to dance with her boyfriend.

I stood there in silence.

A few minutes later, Paul came to stand beside me.

“He’s sure having a lot of fun.”

“What? Who? Who is having a lot of fun?” I asked.

“Your father. He’s having a ball.”

“Yeah. I guess.” I didn’t know what else to say.

“You know, he’s always been there,” Paul said. “I remember when you and I were on the mixed-doubles soccer team. He tried out as the coach, but he couldn’t run up and down the field, remember? So they picked Jackie’s father instead. That didn’t stop him. He showed up for every game and did whatever needed to be done. He was the team’s biggest fan. I think he’s the reason we won so many games. Without him, it just would have been Jackie’s father running up and down the field yelling at us. Your father made it fun. I wish my
father had been able to show up to at least one of our games. He was always too busy.”

Paul’s girlfriend came out of the restroom, and he went to her side, leaving me once again speechless.

My boyfriend came back with two glasses of punch and handed me one.

“Well, what do you think of my father?” I asked out of the blue.

Terry looked surprised. “I like him. I always have.”

“Then why did you call him names when we were kids?”

“I don’t know. Because he was different, and I was a dumb kid.”

“When did you stop calling him names?” I asked, trying to search my own memory.

Terry didn’t even have to think about the answer. “The day he sat down with me outside by the pool and held me while I cried about my mother and father’s divorce. No one else would let me talk about it. I was hurting inside, and he could feel it. He cried with me that day. I thought you knew.”

I looked at Terry and a tear rolled down my cheek as long-forgotten memories started cascading into my consciousness.

When I was three, my puppy got killed by another dog, and my father was there to hold me and teach me what happens when the pets we love die. When I was five, my father took me to my first day of school. I was so scared. So was he. We cried and held each other that first day. The next day he became teacher’s helper. When I was eight, I just couldn’t do math. Father sat down with me night after night, and we worked on math problems until math became easy for
me. When I was ten, my father bought me a brand-new bike. When it was stolen, because I didn’t lock it up like I was taught to do, my father gave me jobs to do around the house so I could make enough money to purchase another one. When I was thirteen and my first love broke up with me, my father was there to yell at, to blame, and to cry with. When I was fifteen and I got to be in the honor society, my father was there to see me get the accolade. Now, when I was seventeen, he put up with me no matter how nasty I became or how high my hormones raged.

As I looked at my father dancing gaily with my friends, a big toothy grin on his face, I suddenly saw him differently. The handicaps weren’t his, they were mine! I had spent a great deal of my life hating the man who loved me. I had hated the exterior that I saw, and I had ignored the interior that contained his God-given heart. I suddenly felt very ashamed.

I asked Terry to take me home, too overcome with feelings to remain.

On graduation day, at my Christian high school, my name was called, and I stood behind the podium as the valedictorian of my class. As I looked out over the people in the audience, my gaze rested on my father in the front row sitting next to my mother. He sat there, in his one and only, specially made suit, holding my mother’s hand and smiling.

Overcome with emotions, my prepared speech was to become a landmark in my life.

“Today I stand here as an honor student, able to graduate with a 4.0 average. Yes, I was in the honor society for three years and was elected class president for the last two years. I led our school to championship in the debate club, and yes, I even won a full scholarship to Kenton State University so that I can continue to study physics and someday become a college professor.

“What I’m here to tell you today, fellow graduates, is that I didn’t do it alone. God was there, and I had a whole bunch of friends, teachers, and counselors who helped. Up until three weeks ago, I thought they were the only ones I would be thanking this evening. If I had thanked just them, I would have been leaving out the most important person in my life. My father.”

I looked down at my father and at the look of complete shock that covered his face.

I stepped out from behind the podium and motioned for my father to join me onstage. He made his way slowly, awkwardly, and deliberately. He had to drag his left foot up the stairs as he used his deformed right arm to balance his gait. As he stood next to me at the podium, I took his small, crippled hand in mine and held it tight.

“Sometimes we only see the silhouette of the people around us,” I said. “For years I was as shallow as the silhouettes I saw. For almost my entire life, I saw my father as someone to make fun of, someone to blame, and someone to be ashamed of. He wasn’t perfect, like the fathers my friends had.

“Well, fellow graduates, what I found out three weeks ago is that while I was envying my friends’ fathers, my friends were envying mine. That realization hit me hard and made me look at who I was and what I had become. I was brought up to pray to God and hold high principles for others and myself. What I’ve done most of my life is read between the lines of the Good Book so I could justify my hatred.”

Then, I turned to look my father in the face.

“Father, I owe you a big apology. I based my love for you on what I saw and not what I felt. I forgot to look at the one part of you that meant the most, the big, big heart God gave you. As I move out of high school and into life, I want you to know I could not have had a better father. You were always there for me, and no matter how badly I hurt you, you still showed up. Thank you!”

I took off my mortar board and placed it on his head, moving the tassel just so.

“You are the reason I am standing here today. You deserve this honor, not me.”

And as the audience applauded and cried with us, I felt God’s light shining down upon me as I embraced my father more warmly than I ever had before, tears unashamedly falling down both our faces.

For the first time, I saw my father through God’s eyes, and I felt honored to be seen with him.

Loving Father, help us to stop judging people by this fleeting world’s harsh standards. Rather, give us the grace to see everybody, starting with our loved ones, with Your own loving eyes. Amen.

...a thousand paper cranes...

Let me share with you this painful, yet truly wonderful, love story.

There was once this guy who is very much in love with his girl. This romantic guy folded 1,000 pieces of paper cranes as a gift to his girl. Although at that time, he was just a small fry in his company and his future didn’t seem too bright, they were very happy together. Until one day, his girl told him she was going to Paris and will never come back. She also told him that she cannot visualize any future for the both of them, so they went their own ways there and then…

The guy agreed with a broken heart. But when he regained his confidence, he worked hard day and night, slogging his body and mind just to make something out of himself… Finally, with all the hard work and the help of friends, this guy was able to set up his own company…

You never fail until you stop trying.

One rainy day, while this guy was driving, he saw an elderly couple sharing an umbrella in the rain walking to some destination. Even with the umbrella, they were still drenched. It didn’t take him long to realize they were his girl’s parents. With a heart in getting back at them, he drove slowly beside the couple, wanting them to spot him in his luxury sedan. He wanted them to know that he wasn’t the same any more; he had his own company, car, condo, etc . He made it!

What he saw next confused him. The couple was walking towards a cemetery, and so he got out of his car and followed…

And he saw his girl, a photograph of her smiling sweetly as ever at him from her tombstone and he saw his paper cranes right beside her.

Her parents saw him. He asked them why this had happened. They explained that she did not leave for France at all. She was ill with cancer. She had believed that he will make it someday, but she did not want to be his obstacle. Therefore, she had chosen to leave him.

Just because someone doesn’t love you the way you want them to, doesn’t mean they don’t love you with all they have.

She had wanted her parents to put his paper cranes beside her, because, if the day comes when fate brings him to her again, he can take some of those back with him.

Once you have loved, you will always love . For what’s in your mind may escape but what’s in your heart will remain forever.

The guy just wept…

The worst way to miss someone is to be sitting right beside her knowing you can’t have her, see her or be with her ever again.

And finally…

Find time to realize that there is one person who means so much to you, for you might wake up one morning losing that person whom you thought meant nothing at all.

The Serenity Prayer

Sometimes, life’s burdens just become too heavy to bear. And these are the times when I just want to ask for serenity. Serenity is almost equated to simplicity and humility of heart. Sounds easy… but it is such a difficult feat to achieve. It is only when I put my trust completely in God that I am able to throw down my worries and anxieties at the foot of His cross, knowing that His power and His love is so much more than my human capacity.

My dear friend, think about it. Surrendering doesn’t really mean that you are weak, that you are backing off; trusting in an unseen Higher Power is not always blind discipleship or lack of logical thinking. It may sound stupid by this world’s standards, but sometimes, we have to learn how to quit in order to succeed. Just as humility never really means weakness; faith can never be equated to desperation.

I hope in the Lord. My strength is in Him. In my human weakness, as I hold His hand, I may let go of Him and go on my own way; but if I will only allow Him to hold my hand instead, I know that He will never let me go.

“God is too wise to be mistaken,

He is too good to be unkind.”

Today, let me share with you this wonderful prayer by Reinhold Niebuhr and be very blessed.

The Serenity Prayer

God, grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference.

Living one day at a time;
Enjoying one moment at a time;
Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace;
Taking, as He did, this sinful world
as it is, not as I would have it;
Trusting that He will make all things right
if I surrender to His Will;
That I may be reasonably happy in this life
and supremely happy with Him
Forever in the next.
Amen.

–Reinhold Niebuhr

The Romero Prayer: Prophets of A Future Not Our Own

Today, let me share with you this beautiful prayer which was composed in honor of Bishop Oscar Romero of El Salvador, a genuine bishop of the poor.

Source: http://www.uscatholic.org/culture/social-justice/2009/02/oscar-romero-bishop-poor#comment-1132

Prophets of A Future Not Our Own

The Romero Prayer

It helps now and then to step back and take the long view.
The Kingdom is not only beyond our efforts, it is beyond our vision.
We accomplish in our lifetime only a tiny fraction of the magnificent enterprise that is God’s work.
Nothing we do is complete, which is another way of saying that the Kingdom always lies beyond us.
No statement says all that could be said. No prayer fully expreses our faith. No confession brings perfection. No pastoral visit brings wholeness. No program accomplishes the Church’s mission. No set of goals and objectives includes everything.
That is what we are about: We plant seeds that one day will grow. We water seeds already planted, knowing that they hold future promise.
We lay foundations that will need further development. We provide yeast that produces effects beyond our capabilities.
We cannot do everything, and there is a sense of liberation in realizing that. This enables us to do something, and to do it very well.
It may be incomplete, but it is a beginning, a step along the way, an opportunity for God’s grace to enter and do the rest.
We may never see the end results, but that is the difference between the master builder and the worker.
We are workers, not Master Builders, ministers, not Messiahs. We are prophets of a future not our own.

- Bishop Ken Untener