|
Who packed your parachute today?
Charles
Plumb was a U.S. Navy jet pilot in Vietnam. After 75 combat
missions, his plane was
destroyed by a surface-to-air missile. Plumb
ejected and parachuted
into enemy hands. He was captured and spent 6 years
in a communist Vietnamese
prison. He survived the ordeal and now lectures
on lessons learned from
that experience.
One day, when Plumb and
his wife were sitting in a restaurant, a man at
another table came up and
said, "You're Plumb! You flew jet fighters in
Vietnam from the aircraft
carrier Kitty Hawk. You were shot down!"
"How in the world did you know that?" asked Plumb.
"I packed your
parachute," the man replied. Plumb gasped in surprise and
gratitude.
The man pumped his hand and said, "I guess it worked!"
Plumb assured him,
"It sure did. If your chute hadn't worked, I wouldn't be
here today."
Plumb couldn't sleep
that night, thinking about that man. Plumb says, "I
kept wondering what he
might have looked like in a Navy uniform: a white
hat, a bib in the back,
and bell-bottom trousers. I wonder how many times I
might have seen him and
not even said 'Good morning, how are you?' or
anything because, you see,
I was a fighter pilot and he was just a sailor."
Plumb thought of the
many hours the sailor had spent on a long wooden table
in the bowels of the ship,
carefully weaving the shrouds and folding the
silks of each chute,
holding in his hands each time the fate of someone he
didn't know.
Now, Plumb asks his
audience, "Who's packing your parachute?" Everyone has
someone who provides what
they need to make it through the day. Plumb also
points out that he needed
many kinds of parachutes when his plane was shot
down over enemy
territory-he needed his physical parachute, his mental
parachute, his emotional
parachute, and his spiritual parachute. He called
on all these supports
before reaching safety.
Sometimes in the daily
challenges that life gives us, we miss what is
really important. We may
fail to say hello, please, or thank you,
congratulate someone on
something wonderful that has happened to them, give
a compliment, or just do
something nice for no reason.
As you go through this
week, this month, this year, recognize people who
pack your parachute. I am
sending you this as my way of thanking you for
your part in packing my
parachute!! And I hope you will send it on to those
who have helped pack
yours!
Sometimes, we wonder
why friends keep forwarding jokes to us without
writing a word, maybe this
could explain: When you are very busy, but still
want to keep in touch,
guess what you do ---you forward jokes. And to let
you know that you are
still remembered, you are still important, you are
still loved, you are still
cared for, guess what you get ? --- A forwarded
joke.
So my friend, next time
if you get a joke, don't think that you've been
sent just another
forwarded joke, but that you've been thought of today and
your friend on the other
end of your computer wanted to send you a smile.
{ My many thanks to Eduardo, my Mexican friend, for
e-mailing me the above story}
Scripture Moment |
For Kyle
One day when I was a freshman in high school, I saw a kid from my class walking home from school. His name was Kyle. It looked as if he was carrying all of his books. I thought to myself, "why would anyone bring home all his books on a Friday? He must really be a nerd."
I had quite a weekend planned (parties and a football game with my friends tomorrow afternoon), so I shrugged my shoulders and went on. As I was walking, I saw a bunch of kids running toward him. They ran at him, knocking all his books out of his arms and tripping him so he landed in the dirt. His glasses went flying, and I saw them land in the grass about ten feet from him.
He looked up and I saw this terrible sadness in his eyes. My heart went out to him, so I jogged over to him and as he crawled around looking for his glasses, I saw a tear in his eye. As I handed him his glasses, I said, "Those guys are jerks. They really should get lives."
He looked at me and said, "Hey, thanks!" There was a big smile on his face. It was one of those smiles that showed real gratitude. I helped him pick up his books, and asked him where he lived.
As it turned out, he lived near me, so I asked him why I had never seen him before. He said he had gone to a private school up until now. I would have never hung out with a private school kid before. We talked all the way home, and I carried his books. He turned out to be a pretty cool kid. I asked him if he wanted to play football on Saturday with me and my friends. He said yes.
We hung out all weekend and the more I got to know Kyle, the more I liked him, and my friends thought the same of him. Monday morning came, and there was Kyle with the huge stack of books again. I stopped him and said "Damn boy, you are really gonna build some serious muscles with this pile of books everyday!" He just laughed and handed me half the books.
Over the next four years, Kyle and I became best friends. When we were seniors, we began thinking about colleges. Kyle decided on Georgetown, and I was going to Duke. I knew that we would always be friends, that the miles would never be a problem. He was going to be a doctor, and I was going for business on a football scholarship.
Kyle was valedictorian of our class. I teased him all the time about being a nerd. He had to prepare a speech for graduation. I was so glad it wasn't me having to get up there and speak.
On graduation day, I saw Kyle. He looked great. He was one of those guys that really found himself during high school. He had filled out and actually looked good in glasses! He had more dates than me and all the girls loved him! Boy, sometimes, I was jealous! Today was one of those days.
I could see that he was nervous about his speech, so I walked up to him and smacked him on the back and said, "Hey big guy, you'll be great!" He looked at me with one of those looks (the really grateful one) and smiled and said "thanks".
As he started his speech, he cleared his throat, and began.
"Graduation is a time to thank those who helped you make it through those tough years. Your parents, your teachers, your siblings, maybe a coach......but most of all, your friends. I am here to tell all of you that being a friend to someone is the best gift you can give them ...... I'm going to tell you a story."
I just looked at my friend with disbelief as he told the story of the first day we met.
He had planned to kill himself over the weekend.
He talked of how he had cleaned out his locker so his Mom wouldn't have to do it later, and was carrying his stuff home. He looked hard at me and gave me a little smile. "Thankfully, I was saved. My friend saved me from doing the unspeakable."
I heard the gasp go through the crowd as this handsome, popular boy told us all about his weakest moment. I saw his mom and dad looking at me and smiling that same grateful smile.
Not until THAT moment, did I realize its depth.
Never underestimate the power of your actions. With one small gesture, you can change a person's life without even knowing it, for better or worse.
God puts us all in each other's lives to impact one another in some way. Let's pray and hope that our impact is a positive one!
The Birdcage
There once was a man named George Thomas, a pastor in a small New England town. One Easter Sunday morning he came to church carrying a rusty, bent, old bird cage, and set it by the pulpit. Several eyebrows were raised and, as if in response, Pastor Thomas began to speak.
"I was walking through town yesterday when I saw a young boy coming toward me swinging this bird cage. On the bottom of the cage were three little wild birds, shivering with cold and fright. I stopped the lad and asked, "What you got there son?"
"Just some old birds," came the reply.
"What are you gonna do with them?" I asked.
"Take 'em home and have fun with 'em,"
he answered. I'm gonna
tease 'em
and pull out their feathers to make 'em fight.
I'm gonna have a real good time."
"But you'll get
tired of those birds sooner or later. What will
you do then?"
"Oh, I got some cats," said the little boy. "They like birds. I'll take 'em to them."
The pastor was silent
for a moment. "How much do you want for
those birds, son?"
"Huh??!!! Why, you
don't want them birds, mister. They're just
plain old field birds.
They don't sing -- they ain't even pretty!"
"How much?" the pastor asked again.
The boy sized up the pastor as if he were crazy and said, "$10?" The pastor reached in his pocket and took out a ten dollar bill. He placed it in the boy's hand. In a flash, the boy was gone.
The pastor picked up the cage and gently carried it to the end of the alley where there was a tree and a grassy spot. Setting the cage down, he opened the door, and by softly tapping the bars persuaded the birds out, setting them free.
Well, that explained
the empty bird cage on the pulpit, and then the pastor began to tell this
story.
One day Satan and Jesus
were having a conversation. Satan had just come from the Garden of Eden,
and he was gloating and boasting.
"Yes, sir, I just caught the world full of people down there. Set me a trap, used bait I knew they couldn't resist. Got 'em all!"
"What are you going to do with them?" Jesus asked.
Satan replied, "Oh, I'm gonna have fun! I'm gonna teach them how to marry and divorce each other, how to hate and abuse each other, how to drink and smoke and curse. I'm gonna teach them how to invent guns and bombs and kill each other. I'm really gonna have fun!"
"And what will you do when you get done with them?" Jesus asked.
"Oh, I'll kill 'em," Satan glared proudly.
"How much do you want for them?" Jesus asked.
"Oh, you don't want those people. They ain't no good. Why, you'll take them and they'll just hate you. They'll spit on you, curse you and kill you!! You don't want those people!!"
"How much?" He asked again.
Satan looked at Jesus and sneered, "All your tears, and all your blood."
Jesus said, "DONE!" Then He paid the price.
The pastor picked up
the cage, he opened the door and he walked
from the pulpit.
Death of a Guru: The
Story of Rabi Maharaj
No matter how
fulfilling life becomes, there are always certain regrets
when one looks back. My
deepest sense of loss involves my father. So much
has happened since his
death. I often wonder what it would be like to
share it all with him, and
what his reaction would be.
We never shared
anything in our lives. Because of vows he had taken
before I was born, not
once did he ever speak to me or pay me the
slightest heed. Just two
words from him would have made me unspeakably
happy. How I wanted to
hear him say, "Rabi. Son." Just once. But he never
did.
For eight long years he
uttered not a word. The trancelike condition he
had achieved is called in
the East a state of higher consciousness and can
be attained only through
deep meditation.
"Why is Father
that way?" I would ask my mother, still too young to
understand. "He is
someone very special -- the greatest man you could have
for a father," she
would reply. "He is seeking the true Self that lies
within us all, the One
Being, of which there is no other. And that's what
you are too, Rabi."
Father had set an
example, achieved wide acclaim, and earned the
worship of many, and it
was inevitable that upon his death his mantle
would fall upon me. I had
never imagined, however, that I would still be
so young when this fateful
day arrived.
When father died I felt
I had lost everything. Though I had scarcely
known him as my father, he
had been my inspiration -- a god -- and now he
was dead.
At his funeral, my
father's stiff body was placed on a great pile
of
firewood. The thought of
his body being sacrificed to Agni, the god of
fire, added a new
dimension of mystery to the bewilderment and deep sense
of loss that already
overwhelmed me.
As the flames engulfed
him, it was impossible to suppress the anguish I
felt. "Mommy!" I
screamed. "Mommy!" If she heard me above the roar of
sparks and fire, she made
no indication. A true Hindu, she found strength
to follow the teaching of
Krishna: she would mourn neither the living nor
the dead. Not once did she
cry as the flames consumed my father.
After my father's
funeral, I became a favorite subject for the
palm-readers and
astrologers who frequented our house. Our family would
hardly make an important
decision without consulting an astrologer, so it
was vital that my future
be confirmed in the same way. It was encouraging
to learn that the lines on
my palms and the planets and stars, according
to those who interpreted
them, all agreed I would become a great Hindu
leader. I was obviously a
chosen vessel, destined for early success in the
search for union with
Brahman (the One). The forces that had guided my
father were now guiding
me.
I was only eleven and
already many people were bowing before me, laying
gifts of money, cotton
cloth, and other treasures at my feet and hanging
garlands of flowers around
my neck at religious ceremonies.
How I loved religious
ceremonies -- especially private ones in our own While vacationing at an
Aunt's ranch, I had my first real encounter In that moment of
frozen terror, out of the past came my mother's "Jesus! Help
me!" I tried to yell, but the desperate cry was choked and To my astonishment, the
snake turned around and quickly wriggled off During my third year in
high school I experienced an increasingly deep One day a friend of my
cousin Shanti, whose name was Molli,
came by to She told me that Jesus
had brought her close to God. She also said that Still, I found myself
asking, "What makes you so happy? You must have "I used to," Molli responded, "but not any more. Jesus has
given me a I lowered my voice:
"I'm not happy. I wish I had your joy." Was I "My joy is because
my sins are forgiven," said Molli.
"Peace and joy We continued talking
for half a day, unaware of how the time had As she was leaving, she
said: "Before you go to bed tonight, Rabi, Pride demanded that I
reject everything Molli had said, but I was too "God, the true God
and Creator, please show me the truth!" Something Soon after, my cousin
Krishna invited me to a Christian meeting. I On our way there,
Krishna and I were joined by Ramkair, a new A little," he
replied. "I became a Christian recently." "Tell me," I
said eagerly. "Did Jesus really change your life?" Ramkair "It's really true,
Rab!" added Krishna enthusiastically.
"I've become a The preacher's sermon
was based on Psalm 23, and the words, "The Lord I quickly knelt in
front of him. He smiled and asked if anyone else Aloud I repeated after
him a prayer inviting Jesus into my heart. When Before I finished, I
knew that Jesus wasn't just another one of several After arriving home,
Krishna and I found the entire family waiting up Some in my family
seemed wounded and bewildered; others seemed happy The following day I
walked resolutely into the prayer room with When everything had
been piled on the rubbish heap, we set it on fire I found my thoughts
going back to my father's cremation nearly eight In a sense this was my
cremation ceremony -- the end of the person I (Editor's Note: If you
would be interested in a detailed account of Copyright 1994 by the
Christian Research Institute. COPYRIGHT/REPRODUCTION
LIMITATIONS: This data file is the sole property If you desire to reproduce less than 500 words of this data file for
John Costouros
home or those of others,
where friends and relatives would crowd in. There
I would be the center of
attention, admired by all. I loved to move
through the audience,
sprinkling holy water on worshipers or marking
foreheads with the sacred
white sandalwood paste. I also loved how the
worshipers, after the
ceremony, bowed low before me to leave their
offerings at my feet.
with Jesus. I was walking
along enjoying nature one day and was startled
by a rustling sound in the
underbrush behind me. I turned quickly and, to
my horror, saw a large
snake coming directly toward me -- its beady eyes
staring intently into
mine. I felt paralyzed, wanting desperately to run
but unable to move.
voice, repeating words I
had long forgotten: "Rabi, if ever you're in real
danger and nothing else
seems to work, there's another god you can pray
to. His name is
Jesus."
hardly audible.
into the underbrush.
Breathless and still trembling, I was filled with
wondering gratitude to
this amazing god, Jesus. Why had my mother not
taught me more about him?
inner conflict. My growing
awareness of God as the Creator, separate and
distinct from the universe
He had made, contradicted the Hindu concept
that god was everything,
that the Creator and the Creation were one and
the same. If there was
only One Reality, then Brahman was evil as well as
good, death as well as
life, hatred as well as love. That made everything
meaningless, life an
absurdity. It was not easy to maintain both one's
sanity and the view that
good and evil, love and hate, life and death were
One Reality.
visit. She asked me about
whether I found Hinduism fulfilling. Trying to
hide my emptiness, I lied
and told her I was very happy and that my
religion was the Truth.
She listened patiently to my pompous and sometimes
arrogant pronouncements.
Without arguing, she exposed my emptiness gently
with politely phrased
questions.
God is a God of love and
that He desires us to be close to Him. As
appealing as this sounded
to me, I stubbornly resisted, not willing to
surrender my Hindu roots.
been doing a lot of
meditation."
peace and joy that I never
knew before." Then she said, "Rabi, you don't
seem very happy. Are
you?"
saying this?
come from Christ, through
really knowing Him."
passed. I wanted her peace
and joy, but I was absolutely resolved that I
wasn't going to give up
any part of my religion.
please get on your knees
and ask God to show you the Truth -- and I'll be
praying for you."
With a wave of her hand she was gone.
desperate to save face any
longer. I fell to my knees, conscious that I
was giving in to her
request.
inside me snapped. For the
first time in my life, I felt I had really
prayed and gotten through
-- not to some impersonal Force, but to the true
God who loves and cares.
Too tired to think any longer, I crawled into bed
and fell asleep almost instantly.
again surprised myself by
responding: "Why not?"
acquaintance of his.
"Do you know anything about this meeting?" I asked
him, anxious to get some
advance information.
smiled broadly. "He
sure did! Everything is different."
Christian too -- just a
few days ago."
is my shepherd," made
my heart leap. After expounding the Psalm, the
preacher said: "Jesus
wants to be your Shepherd. Have you heard His voice
speaking to your heart?
Why not open your heart to Him now? Don't wait
until tomorrow -- that may
be too late!" The preacher seemed to be
speaking directly to me. I
could delay no longer.
wanted to receive Jesus.
No one stirred. Then he asked the Christians to
come forward and pray with
me. Several did, kneeling beside me. For years
Hindus had bowed before me
-- and now I was kneeling before a Christian.
the preacher said,
"Amen," he suggested I pray in my own words. Quietly,
choking with emotion, I
began: "Lord Jesus, I've never studied the Bible,
but I've heard that you
died for my sins at Calvary so I could be forgiven
and reconciled to God.
Please forgive me all my sins. Come into my heart!"
million gods. He was the
God for whom I had hungered. He Himself was the
Creator. Yet, He loved me
enough to become a man and die for my sins. With
that realization, tons of
darkness seemed to lift and a brilliant light
flooded my soul.
for us, apparently having
heard what had happened. "I asked Jesus into my
life tonight!" I
exclaimed happily, as I looked from one to another of
those startled faces.
"It's glorious. I can't tell you how much he means
to me already."
for me. But before it was
all over with, thirteen of us had ended up
giving our hearts to
Jesus! It was incredible.
Krishna. Together we
carried everything out into the yard: idols, Hindu
scriptures, and religious
paraphernalia. We wanted to rid ourselves of
every tie with the past
and with the powers of darkness that had blinded
and enslaved us for so
long.
and watched the flames
consume our past. The tiny figures we once feared
as gods were turning to
ashes. We hugged one another and offered thanks to
the Son of God who had
died to set us free.
years before. In contrast
to our new found joy, that scene had aroused
inconsolable grief. My
father's body had been offered to the very same
false gods who now lay in
smoldering fragments before me. It seemed
unbelievable that I should
be participating with great joy in the utter
destruction of that which
represented all I had once believed in so
fanatically.
had once been...the death
of a guru. The old Rabi Maharaj had died in
Christ. And out of that
grave a new Rabi had risen in whom Christ was now
living.
Rabi's conversion, read his book Death
of a Guru. Rabi is presently based
in Southern California and
is involved in evangelism all over the world.
He invites you to write:
East/West Gospel Ministries, P.O. Box 2191, La
Habra, CA 90632.)
of the Christian Research
Institute. It may not be altered or edited in
any way. It may be
reproduced only in its entirety for circulation as
"freeware,"
without charge. All reproductions of this data file must
contain the copyright
notice (i.e., "Copyright 1994 by the Christian
Research Institute").
This data file may not be used without the
permission of the
Christian Research Institute for resale or the
enhancement of any other
product sold. This includes all of its content
with the exception of a
few brief quotations not to exceed more than 500
words.
resale or the enhancement
of any other product for resale, please give the
following source credit:
Copyright 1994 by the Christian Research
Institute, P.O. Box
500-TC, San Juan Capistrano, CA 92693.