Your Tongue, Is It An Encourager Or A Deflator?

The Lord has Blessed us all with a wonderful gift. The gift of communication. Just imagine what it would be like if you could not communicate. You could not tell your child "I Love You". Think about that! Never hearing it spoken to you, "I Love You". Close you eyes for a moment and think about softly telling someone that you love, I Love You. It brings a tear to my eye to think of what life would be like without communication.

Now imagine what it would be like to have never been belittled, or made fun of. The ill feeling as a child of being the brunt of someone's joke. Of course that we could do without.

We have been truely Blessed with the gift of communication. God has given us a tongue which can be an encourager or a deflator. You have the freedom to choose. Do you wish to show Love or Hate. Scripture reminds us of the evil that can be done with the tongue. For this reason we must keep a constant check on our Tongues. Please remember when you speak to you children you must always be an encourager, their skin is not as thick as you might think.

Here is a story that is eye opening, I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.


A Little Boys Temper


There once was a little boy who had a bad temper. His father gave him a bag of nails and told him that every time he lost his temper, he must hammer a nail into the fence.

The first day the boy had driven 37 nails into the fence. Over the
next few weeks, as he learned to control his anger, the number of
nails hammered daily gradually dwindled down. He discovered it was easier to hold his temper than to drive those nails into the fence. Finally the day came when the boy didn't lose his temper at all. He told his father about it and the father suggested that the boy now pull out one nail for each day that he was able to hold his temper.

The days passed and the young boy was finally able to tell his father that all the nails were gone. The father took his son by the hand and led him to the fence. He said "you have done well, my son, but look at the holes in the fence. The fence will never be the same. When you say things in anger, they leave a scar just like this one."

You can put a knife in a man and draw it out. It won't matter how many times you say I'm sorry, the wound is still there. A verbal wound is as bad as a physical one. Friends are a very rare jewel, indeed. They make you smile and encourage you to succeed. They lend an ear, they share a word of praise, and they always want to open their hearts to us.

Make sure you control your temper the next time you are tempted to say something you will regret later.

My Journey to Salvation

On Wednesday January 30 we had the opportunity to gather once again at the Krasson's for a night of fellowship and ministry. The topic for the evening was understanding the empty space that is in each one of us, which we try tirelessly to fill. Some refer to it as a "hole" that we are constantly pouring things into, unfortunately for some that hole seems bottomless and never does get filled. The things that we fill it with depend on each of our individual desires, for some it is a new car, or a nicer house. For others it may be smaller items that we can more easily obtain, such as a new television, you know the big flat screen or perhaps it is just a night out with the guys. Thats it.... "If I could only get away for one night then I will be happy."

The night has ended or a newer bigger better television has just gone on sale, you tell yourself, "I have to have that newer better ............................(you fill in the blank). Then I will be happy.

We all know that at some point everyone suffers from these desires. Some have even learned the truth that material posessions will never fill that "void" which we call a hole. We realize that there is only one thing that can possibly fill that hole to overflowing. That which I am talking about is having a personal relationship with Jesus Christ and accepting him as your personal Savior. Building on that relationship will not only fill that void in your life, but heap blessings upon that which seemed impossible.

In our meeting we began a series which was titled My Journey to Salvation. It is the testimony of Adolf Coors IV and how he learned that the void in his life could not be filled by anything other that building an active personal relationship with Jesus Christ.

Mr. Coors testimony is very compelling and we will be continuing the series on Wednesday February 6, at the Krasson residence at 6:30. Again I would like to thank Joe and Becky Krasson for opening up their home to our meetings.

I have had the opportunity to be encouraged by the following story. This represents how we as Christians should build up and encourage everyone we come in contact with.


Two Men In A Hospital

Two men, both seriously ill, occupied the same hospital room. One man was allowed to sit up in his bed for an hour each afternoon to help drain the fluid from his lungs. His bed was next to the room's only window. The otherman had to spend all his time flat on his back.

The men talked for hours on end. They spoke of their wives and families, their homes, their jobs, their involvement in the military service, where they had been on vacation. And every afternoon when the man in the bed by the window could sit up, he would pass the time by describing to his roommate all the things he could see outside the window. The man in the other bed began to live for those one-hour periods where his world would be broadened and enlivened by all the activity and color of the world outside.

The window overlooked a park with a lovely lake. Ducks and Swans played on the water while children sailed their model boats. Young lovers walked arm in arm amidst flowers of every color of the rainbow. Grand old trees graced the landscape, and a fine view of the city skyline could be seen in the distance. As the man by the window described all this in exquisite detail, the man on the other side of the room would close his eyes and imagine the picturesque scene.

One warm afternoon the man by the window described a parade passing by. Although the other man couldn't hear the band - he could see it in his mind's eye as the gentleman by the window portrayed it with descriptive words. Days and weeks passed.

One morning, the day nurse arrived to bring water for their baths only to find the lifeless body of the man by the window, who had died peacefully in his sleep. She was saddened and called the hospital attendants to take the body away. As soon as it seemed appropriate, the other man asked if he could be moved next to the window. The nurse was happy to make the switch, and after making sure he was comfortable, she left him alone. Slowly, painfully,he propped himself up on one elbow to take his first look at the world outside. Finally, he would have the joy of seeing it for himself. He strained to slowly turn to look out the window beside the bed. It faced a blank wall. The man asked the nurse what could have compelled his deceased roommate who had described such wonderful things outside this window.

The nurse responded that the man was blind and could not even see the wall.

She said, "Perhaps he just wanted to encourage you.

"Epilogue. . .There is tremendous happiness in making others happy, despite our own situations. Shared grief is half the sorrow, but happiness when shared, is doubled. If you want to feel rich, just Count all of the things you have that money can't buy.

"Today is a gift, that's why it is called thepresent."


Thank You for taking the time to share in my thoughts.
Carl

Cherry Street Bible Church Men's Ministry

Recently, We have been holding meetings on Wednesday Nights to develop our Men's ministry at the Cherry Street Bible Church. Jesus has blessed this ministry by prodding the hearts of 10 men to take time out of their busy schedules to come together and build up and encourage one another. We are blessed with men of different ages to help glean wisdom and understanding from the experience of others. I thank Jesus for this opportunity to learn from others who love the Lord.

I have been reading inspirational messages that have been posted on the net and found this one very encouraging. The title is;


Letter To Death-Row Inmate

A letter written to a person on death row by the father of the man whom the person on death row had killed:

You are probably surprised that I, of all people, am writing a letter to you, but I ask you to read it in its entirety and consider its request seriously. As the father of the man whom you took part in murdering, I have something very important to say to you.

I forgive you.

With all my heart, I forgive you. I realize it may be hard for you to believe, but I really do. At your trial, when you confessed to your part in the events that cost my son his life and asked for my forgiveness, I immediately granted you that forgiving love from my heart.

I can only hope you believe me and will accept my forgiveness. But this is not all I have to say to you. I want to make you an offer: I want you to become my adopted child. You see, my son who died was my only child, and I now want to share my life with you and leave my riches to you.

This may not make sense to you or anyone else, but I believe you are worth the offer.

I have arranged matters so that if you will receive my offer of forgiveness, not only will you be pardoned for your crime, but you also will be set free from your imprisonment, and your sentence of death will be dismissed. At that point, you will become my adopted child and heir to all my riches.

I realize this is a risky offer for me to make to you -- you might be tempted to reject my offer completely -- but I make it to you without reservation. Also, I realize it may seem foolish to make such an offer to one who cost my son his life, but I have a great love and an unchangeable forgiveness in my heart for you.

Finally, you may be concerned that once you accept my offer you may do something to cause you to be denied your rights as an heir to my wealth. Nothing could be further from the truth. If I can forgive you for your part in my son's death, I can forgive you for anything. I know you never will be perfect, but you do not have to be perfect to receive my offer.

Besides, I believe that once you have accepted my offer and begin to experience the riches that will come to you from me, that your primary(though not always) response will be gratitude and loyalty. Some would call me foolish for my offer to you, but I wish for you to call me your Father.


Love,God


I was blessed to find this posting at the following address;

http://www.godswork.org/enccontents.htm

If you have a moment and need encouragement or a new look at the gift you have been given, it is worth the read. But I warn you, keep a tissue handy.

The Strength of A Man

I read this on line and was so moved by it I thought I would add it to my Blog. It truely states what should be our goal as a Father.

The strength of a man isn't seen in the width of his shoulders.It's seen in the width of his arms that circle you.The strength of a man isn't in the deep tone of his voice.It's in the gentle words he whispers.The strength of a man isn't how many buddies he has.It's how good a buddy he is with his kids.The strength of a man isn't in how respected he is at work.It's in how respected he is at home.The strength of a man isn't in how hard he hits.It's in how tender he touches.The strength of a man isn't in the hair on his chest.It's in his Heart ... that lies within his chest.The strength of a man isn't how many women he's loved.It's in how he can be true to one woman.The strength of a man isn't in the weight he can lift.It's in the burdens he can carry.© July 15, 1999Scorpiox2x@aol.comJacqueline Marie Griffiths(Written for H. Rochon)

A great story we all can learn from.

I read this story often to keep myself in check.

Father Forgets
by W. Livingston Larned

Listen, son; I am saying this as you lie asleep, one little paw crumpled under your cheek and the blond curls stickily wet on your damp forehead. I have stolen into your room alone. Just a few minutes ago, as I sat reading my paper in the library, a stifling wave of remorse swept over me. Guiltily I came to your bedside.
There are things I was thinking, son: I had been cross to you. I scolded you as you were dressing for school because you gave your face merely a dab with a towel. I took you to task for not cleaning your shoes. I called out angrily when you threw some of your things on the floor.

At breakfast I found fault, too. You spilled things. You gulped down your food. You put your elbows on the table. You spread butter too thick on your bread. And as you started off to play and I made for my train, you turned and waved a hand and called, “Goodbye, Daddy!” and I frowned, and said in reply, “Hold your shoulders back!”

Then it began all over again in the late afternoon. As I came up the road, I spied you, down on your knees, playing marbles. There were holes in your stockings. I humiliated you before you boyfriends by marching you ahead of me to the house. Stockings were expensive—and if you had to buy them you would be more careful! Imagine that, son, from a father!

Do you remember, later, when I was reading in the library, how you came in timidly, with a sort of hurt look in your eyes? When I glanced up over my paper, impatient at the interruption, you hesitated at the door. “What is it you want?” I snapped.
You said nothing, but ran across in one tempestuous plunge, and threw your arms around my neck and kissed me, and your small arms tightened with an affection that God had set blooming in your heart and which even neglect could not wither. And then you were gone, pattering up the stairs.

Well, son, it was shortly afterwards that my paper slipped from my hands and a terrible sickening fear came over me. What has habit been doing to me? The habit of finding fault, of reprimanding—this was my reward to you for being a boy. It was not that I did not love you; it was that I expected too much of youth. I was measuring you by the yardstick of my own years.

And there was so much that was good and fine and true in your character. The little heart of you was as big as the dawn itself over the wide hills. This was shown by your spontaneous impulse to rush in and kiss me good night. Nothing else matters tonight, son. I have come to your bedside in the darkness, and I have knelt there, ashamed!

It is a feeble atonement; I know you would not understand these things if I told them to you during your waking hours. But tomorrow I will be a real daddy! I will chum with you, and suffer when you suffer, and laugh when you laugh. I will bite my tongue when impatient words come. I will keep saying as if it were a ritual: “He is nothing but a boy—a little boy!”

I am afraid I have visualized you as a man. Yet as I see you now, son, crumpled and weary in your cot, I see that you are still a baby. Yesterday you were in your mother’s arms, your head on her shoulder.

I have asked too much, too much.

A Father's Call

Welcome to my site. I appreciate your visit. This site is dedicated to Fathers who are answering the call to be the leaders in their family that God has called them to be. Men have been given a huge role in shaping the minds and lives of the children He has blessed us with.