Inspirational Christian Stories and Poems Blog

original poem by Brenda kay Winters

I dreamed I died one night.
Could not even wake up in fright.
Smelling sulfur and brimstone there.
No one had clothes on, not even underwear.
Went to heaven on a light beam.
It was the most beautiful place I had ever seen.
Looking at faces in such surprise.
These were people I had despised.
We all laughed together then cried.
I loved them so finally what I became was wise.

(2 votes, average: 5 out of 5)
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Technorati Tags: Death, Forgiveness, heaven, Humor

Filed Under: Death, Forgiveness, heaven, Humor

Posted on August 27th, 2008 by Chris | Permalink |  Email This Post |  Print This Post

               

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As I was driving home from work one day, I stopped to watch a local little League baseball game that was being played in a park near my home. As I sat down behind the bench on the first-baseline, I asked one of the boys what the score was.

“We’re behind 14 to nothing,” he answered with a smile.

“Really,” I said. “I have to say you don’t look very discouraged.”

“Discouraged?” the boy asked with a puzzled look on his face. “Why should we be discouraged? We haven’t been up to bat yet.”

(3 votes, average: 5 out of 5)
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Technorati Tags: Attitude, Hope, sports

Filed Under: Attitude, Hope, sports

Posted on August 10th, 2007 by Chris | Permalink |  Email This Post |  Print This Post

               

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High above the smoldering ash, the morning Dove looks on.
The carnage of a battle field in the early light of dawn.

The battle of the earlier day, raged long into the night.
While signs of armies once engaged, now hidden out of sight.

It was a battle both would claim, was waged for what was right.
It was a fight that both would say, was fought with righteous might.

This was a war of differences, in values and of men.
Both sides said they’re way was right and neither one would bend.

Still the Morning Dove was heard to cry above the reddened plains.
“How different can these brothers be, when their blood stains all the same?”

by W.A.S.
Used with Permission

(1 votes, average: 5 out of 5)
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Technorati Tags: Attitude, Death, war

Filed Under: Attitude, Death, war

Posted on August 8th, 2007 by Chris | Permalink |  Email This Post |  Print This Post

               

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After awhile you learn the subtle difference
between holding a hand and chaining a soul.
And you learn that love doesn’t mean security,
And you begin to learn that kisses aren’t contracts
And presents aren’t promises.
And you begin to accept your defeats with you head up and your eyes open.
With the grace of maturity, not the grief of a child.
And you learn to build all your roads on
Today because tommorow’s ground is too uncertain for plans,
And futures have a way of falling down in mid-flight.
After awhile you learn that even sunshine burns if you get too much.
So you plant your own garden and decorate your own soul,
Instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.
And you learn that you really can endure…
That you really are strong
And that you really do have worth.
And you learn and learn and learn ….
With every goodbye you learn.

-Veronica A. Shoftstall

(1 votes, average: 5 out of 5)
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Technorati Tags: Attitude, Death, learning, love poems, sad poems

Filed Under: Attitude, Death, learning, love poems, sad poems

Posted on August 6th, 2007 by Chris | Permalink |  Email This Post |  Print This Post

               

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Six humans trapped by happenstance
In dark and bitter cold
Each one possessed a stick of wood
Or so the story’s told

Their dying fire in need of logs
The first woman held hers back.
For of the faces around the flame
She noticed one was black

The second mann looking all about
Saw no one of his church
And couldn’t bring himself to give
The fire his stick of birch

The rich man sat and thought
Of all the wealth he had in store
Why should his stick be used to warm
The lazy, shiftless poor?

The poor man sat in tattered clothes
He gave his coat a hitch
No way would he let his stick be used
By the greedy selfish rich

The black man bitter and full of rage
Held his oak branch tight
For all he saw in his stick of wood
Was a chance to spite the white

The last man of this forlorn group
Did nothing except for gain
Giving only to those who gave
Was how he played the game

The branches held in fate’s cruel hands
Was proof of human sin
They didn’t die from the cold without
The died from THE COLD WITHIN.

-James Patrick Kenny

(3 votes, average: 4.67 out of 5)
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Technorati Tags: Attitude, Death, Giving

Filed Under: Attitude, Death, Giving

Posted on August 4th, 2007 by Chris | Permalink |  Email This Post |  Print This Post

               

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(UNKNOWN MONK 1100AD)

When I was a young man, I wanted to change the world. I found it was difficult to change the world, so I tried to change my nation. When I found I couldn’t change the nation, I began to focus on my town. I couldn’t change the town and as an older man, I tried to change my family. Now, as an old man, I realize the only thing I can change is myself, and suddenly I realize that if long ago I had changed myself, I could have made an impact on my family. My family and I could have made an impact on our town. Their impact could have changed the nation and I could indeed have changed the world.

(5 votes, average: 4.8 out of 5)
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Technorati Tags: Attitude, change, making a difference, understanding

Filed Under: Attitude, change, making a difference, understanding

Posted on August 2nd, 2007 by Chris | Permalink |  Email This Post |  Print This Post

               

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Once a church had fallen upon hard times. Only five members were left: the pastor and four others, all over 60 years old.

In the mountains near the church there lived a retired Bishop. It occurred to the pastor to ask the Bishop if he could offer any advice that might save the church. The pastor and the Bishop spoke at length, but when asked for advice, the Bishop simply responded by saying, “I have no advice to give. The only thing I can tell you is that the Messiah is one of you.”

The pastor, returning to the church, told the church members what the Bishop had said. In the months that followed, the old church members pondered the words of the Bishop. “The Messiah is one of us?” they each asked themselves. As they thought about this possibility, they all began to treat each other with extraordinary respect on the off chance that that one among them might be the Messiah. And on the off, off chance that each member himself might be the Messiah, they also began to treat themselves with extraordinary care.

As time went by, people visiting the church noticed the aura of respect and gentle kindness that surrounded the five old members of the small church. Hardly knowing why, more people began to come back to the church. They began to bring their friends, and their friends brought more friends. Within a few years, the small church had once again become a thriving church, thanks to the Bishop’s gift.