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What Kind of Man, Pls Pass this on, The Media Wont
What kind of a man would do such a thing?
Jack Tilley, a Sergeant Major of the Army, was with a group of people who recently were visiting wounded soldiers at Walter Reed Medical Center in Washington, DC. He saw a Special Forces soldier who had lost his right hand and suffered severe wounds of his face and side of his body.
Sgt. Tilley wanted to honor him and show him respect without offending, but what can you say or do in such a situation that will encourage and uplift?
How do you shake the right hand of a soldier who has none?
He decided to act as though the hand was not missing and gripped the soldier's wrist while speaking words of comfort and encouragement to him.
However, there was another man in the group who knew exactly what to do. This man reverently took the soldier's stump of a hand in both of his hands, bowed at the bedside, and prayed for him. When he finished the prayer he stood up, bent over the soldier, kissed him on the head, and told him that he loved him.
Sgt. Tilley was awed by the powerful expression of love for one of our wounded heroes he was witnessing! "What a beautiful Christ-like example!" he thought, moved to tears.
What kind of a man would do such a thing?
It was the wounded man's Commander-In-Chief, George W. Bush, President of The United States.
This eyewitness account was told by Sergeant Major Jack Tilley at a Soldiers Breakfast at Red Stone Arsenal, AL, and recorded by Chaplain James Henderson, who was stationed there.
Pass it on... the American media WON'T!!!
Knowing Evil, Their Deception
"My name is Mr. Dark. I advice you to respect that."
— Mr. Dark
"And have had for many years, I do believe. All that time spent living only through other men's lives. Dreaming only other men's dreams. What a waste."
— Mr. Dark
"…Beware the autumn people...
For some, autumn comes early, stays late, through life, where October follows September and November touches October and then instead of December and Christ's birth there is no Bethlehem Star, no rejoicing, but September comes again and old October and so on down the years, with no winter, spring or revivifying summer.
For these beings, fall is the only normal season, the only weather, there be no choice beyond.
Where do they come from? The dust.
Where do they go? The grave.
Does blood stir their veins? No, the night wind.
What ticks in their head? The worm.
What speaks through their mouth? The toad.
What sees from their eye? The snake.
What hears with their ear? The abyss between the stars.
They sift the human storm for souls, eat flesh of reason, fill tombs with sinners. They frenzy forth. In gusts they beetle-scurry, creep, thread, filter, motion, make all moons sullen, and surely cloud all clear-run waters. The spider-web hears them, trembles—breaks.
Such are the autumn people.
Beware of them."
Your torments call us like dogs in the night. And we do feed, and feed well. To stuff ourselves on other people's torments. And butter our plain bread with delicious pain... Funerals, marriages, lost loves, lonely beds " that is our diet. We suck that misery and find it sweet. We can smell the young ulcerating to be men a thousand miles off. And hear a middle-aged fool like yourself groaning with midnight despairs from halfway round the world.
An Awesome Story
PLEASE take time to read this powerful story...we serve an AWESOME GOD ALL THE TIME…
This true story has been around before, but in case you missed it, here goes:
If you are a believer, this too will lift you up today ***
Isaiah 65:24 ***."And it shall come to pass, that before they call, I will answer; and while they are yet speaking, I will hear".
This is a story written by a doctor who worked in Africa.
One night I had worked hard to help a mother in the labor ward; but in spite of all we could do, she died, leaving us with a tiny, premature baby and a crying two-year-old daughter. We would have difficulty keeping the baby alive; as we had no incubator (we had no electricity to run an incubator).
We also had no special feeding facilities. Although we lived on the equator, nights were often chilly with treacherous drafts. One student midwife went for the box we had for such babies and the wool that the baby would be wrapped in.
Another went to stoke up the fire and fill a hot water bottle. She came back shortly, in distress, to tell me that in filling the bottle, it had burst (rubber perishes easily in tropical climates).
'And it is our last hot water bottle!' she exclaimed. As in the West, it is no good crying over spilled milk, so in Central Africa it might be considered no good crying over burst water bottles. They do not grow on trees, and there are no drugstores down forest pathways.
'All right, ' I said, 'put the baby as near the fire as you safely can, and sleep between the baby and the door to keep it free from drafts Your job is to keep the baby warm.'
The following noon, as I did most days, I went to have prayers with any of the orphanage children who chose to gather with me. I gave the youngsters various suggestions of things to pray about and told them about the tiny baby. I explained our problem about keeping the baby warm enough, mentioning the hot water bottle, and that the baby could so easily die if it got chills. I also told them of the two-year-old sister, crying because her mother had died.
During prayer time, one ten -year-old girl, Ruth, prayed with the usual blunt conciseness of our African children. 'Please, God ' she prayed, 'Send us a hot water bottle today. It'll be no good tomorrow, God, as the baby will be dead, so please send it this afternoon. '
While I gasped inwardly at the audacity of the prayer, she added, 'And while You are about it, would You please send a dolly for the little girl so she'll know You really love her? 'As often with children's prayers, I was put on the spot. Could I honestly say 'Amen?' I just did not believe that God could do this.
Oh, yes, I know that He can do everything; the Bible says so. But there are limits, aren't there? The only way God could answer this particular prayer would be by sending me a parcel from the homeland. I had been in Africa for almost four years at that time, and I had never, ever, received a parcel from home.
Anyway, if anyone did send me a parcel, who would put in a hot water bottle? I lived on the equator!
Halfway through the afternoon, while I was teaching in the nurses' training school, a message was sent that there was a car at my front door. By the time I reached home, the car had gone, but there on the verandah was a large 22-pound parcel. I felt tears pricking my eyes. I could not open the parcel alone, so I sent for the orphanage children. Together we pulled off the string, carefully undoing each knot. We folded the paper, taking care not to tear it unduly. Excitement was mounting. Some thirty or forty pairs of eyes were focused on the large cardboard box. From the top, I lifted out brightly-colored, knitted jerseys. Eyes sparkled as I gave them out.
Then there were the knitted bandages for the leprosy patients, and the children looked a little bored. Then came a box of mixed raisins and sultanas - that would make a batch of buns for the weekend.
Then, as I put my hand in again, I felt the.....could it really be? I grasped it and pulled it out. Yes, a brand new, rubber hot water bottle. I cried. I had not asked God to send it; I had not truly believed that He could.
Ruth was in the front row of the children. She rushed forward, crying out, 'If God has sent the bottle, He must have sent the dolly, too!'
Rummaging down to the bottom of the box, she pulled out the small, beautifully-dressed dolly. Her eyes shone! She had never doubted!
Looking up at me, she asked, 'Can I go over with you and give this dolly to that little girl, so she'll know that Jesus really loves her? 'Of course, ' I replied!
That parcel had been on the way for five whole months, packed up by my former Sunday school class, whose leader had heard and obeyed God 's prompting to send a hot water bottle, even to the equator.
And one of the girls had put in a dolly for an African child - five months before, in answer to the believing prayer of a ten-year-old to bring it 'that afternoon. '
'Before they call, I will answer. ' (Isaiah 65:24)
When you receive this, say the prayer. That's all I ask. No strings attached.
Just send it on to whom ever you want - but do send it on.
Prayer is the best free gift we receive. There is no cost, but a lot of rewards. Let's continue praying for one another. This awesome prayer takes less than a minute.
Heavenly Father, I ask you to bless my friends reading this. I ask You to minister to their spirit. Where there is pain, give them Your peace and mercy. Where there is self-doubting, release a renewed confidence to work through them. Where there is tiredness or exhaustion, I ask You to give them understanding, guidance, and strength. Where there is fear, reveal Your love and release to them Your courage. Bless their finances, give them greater vision, and raise up leaders and friends to support and encourage them. I ask You to do these things in Jesus ' name. Amen
Passing this on to anyone you consider a friend will bless you both.
Passing this on to one not considered a friend is something Christ would do.
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