Inspirational Christian Stories and Poems Blog

There was once a bridge which spanned a large river. During most of the day the bridge sat with its length running up and down the river paralleled with the banks, allowing ships to pass thru freely on both sides of the bridge. But at certain times each day, a train would come along and the bridge would be turned sideways across the river, allowing a train to cross it.

A switchman sat in a small shack on one side of the river where he operated the controls to turn the bridge and lock it into place as the train crossed. One evening as the switchman was waiting for the last train of the day to come, he looked off into the distance thru the dimming twilight and caught sight of the trainlights. He stepped to the control and waited until the train was within a prescribed distance when he was to turn the bridge. He turned the bridge into position, but, to his horror, he found the locking control did not work. If the bridge was not securely in position it would wobble back and forth at the ends when the train came onto it, causing the train to jump the track and go crashing into the river. This would be a passenger train with many people aboard. He left the bridge turned across the river, and hurried across the bridge to the other side of the river where there was a lever switch he could hold to operate the lock manually. He would have to hold the lever back firmly as the train crossed. He could hear the rumble of the train now, and he took hold of the lever and leaned backward to apply his weight to it, locking the bridge. He kept applying the pressure to keep the mechanism locked. Many lives depended on this man’s strength.

Then, coming across the bridge from the direction of his control shack, he heard a sound that made his blood run cold. “Daddy, where are you?” His four-year-old son was crossing the bridge to look for him. His first impulse was to cry out to the child, “Run! Run!” But the train was too close; the tiny legs would never make it across the bridge in time. The man almost left his lever to run and snatch up his son and carry him to safety. But he realized that he could not get back to the lever. Either the people on the train or his little son must die. He took a moment to make his decision.

The train sped safely and swiftly on its way, and no one aboard was even aware of the tiny broken body thrown mercilessly into the river by the onrushing train. Nor were they aware of the pitiful figure of the sobbing man, still clinging tightly to the locking lever long after the train had passed. They did not see him walking home more slowly than he had ever walked: to tell his wife how their son had brutally died.

Now if you comprehend the emotions which went this man’s heart, you can begin to understand the feelings of our Father in Heaven when He sacrificed His Son to bridge the gap between us and eternal life. Can there be any wonder that He caused the earth to tremble and the skies to darken when His Son died? How does He feel when we speed along thru life without giving a thought to what was done for us thru Jesus Christ?

(9 votes, average: 4.56 out of 5)
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Posted on September 13th, 2007 by Chris | Permalink |  Email This Post |  Print This Post

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 A man journeyed to the mountain top in search of enlightenment.He left all his belongings and possessions behind, and went only by himself. At the mountain top, he breathed deep, looking around just in time to catch a most Beautiful Sunrise coming over the horizon. He thought, surely this is where I belong, and he decided to stay. But, first he thought it right that he should return below and properly store and save all of his past possessions, for they represented his past life, which he would need no more.

When he returned to his home he gathered all his possessions, pictures, and momentous from childhood. He thought to himself, I do not need to store these, for I have moved from childhood. I do not need the things of my childhood. I will bury them.

So, he dug a hole, placing all his childhood possessions inside. Thinking about this, he decided that he could also place the things of his youth there, for he would not need them anymore either. He returned home and gathered his school work and other possessions from his youthful endeavors. He brought them back to the hole, and placed these things in it too. Now, he thought of his adulthood achievements, holdings, belongings, and possessions, the tools of his career. Again, he realized that he would not need these things any longer either. So, one more time he returned home, gathered all the things of his adulthood, returned to the hole, and placed them there as well, burying his last remaining possessions.

Once finished, he started back up to the mountain top. After a while, he stopped to look back at the hillside where he had buried his things. He saw only one lonely sunflower swaying in the wind where he had left the freshly covered dirt.

(2 votes, average: 3 out of 5)
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Posted on July 27th, 2007 by Chris | Permalink |  Email This Post |  Print This Post

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One day, a man went to visit a church. He arrived early, parked his car, and got out. Another car pulled up near him, and the driver told him, “I always park there. You took my place!”

The visitor went inside for Sunday School, found an empty seat, and sat down. A young lady from the church approached him and stated, “That’s my seat! You took my place!”

The visitor was somewhat distressed by this rude welcome, but said nothing.

After Sunday School, the visitor went into the church sanctuary and sat down. Another member walked up to him and said, “That’s where I always sit. You took my place!”

The visitor was even more troubled by this treatment, but still said nothing.

Later, as the congregation was praying for Christ to dwell among them, the visitor stood, and his appearance began to change.

Horrible scars became visible on his hands and on his sandaled feet.

Someone from the congregation noticed him and called out, “What happened to you?”

The visitor replied, “I took your place.”

May you be content knowing you are a child of God. Let His presence settle into our bones, and allow your soul the freedom to sing, dance, and to bask in the sun. It is there for each and every one of you.

Author Unknown

Contributed by Anne Brophy

(3 votes, average: 5 out of 5)
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Posted on July 25th, 2007 by Chris | Permalink |  Email This Post |  Print This Post

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My mother, who was a native American, taught me all kinds of wonderful ways to pray when I was a child. A very special one was the Sacrifice Flower prayer, which she adapted from the heritage of her people, the Seneca Iroquois.

She taught me to say this prayer when I was feeling low or had a burden I wanted to lifted. Later, I learned to use it for happy occasions and when I had a special request I wanted to make of God.

Like all mothers, she could always tell when something was bothering me. She’d say to me, “All right, Jo, I think it’s time you went outside and find yourself a Sacrifice Flower. It’s time you get your burden lifted from your heart and give it to God.

So, I’d go looking for a flower. Sometimes Mother would go out with me to help me with my flower or talk about what was bothering me. Sometimes, too, she had something weighing on her heart and she would find a Sacrifice Flower of her own.

The flower was supposed to be special, one that meant a lot to me. As a girl, I picked dandelions, hollyhocks, and daises. So, I usually picked one of them. In addition, Mother said I was to be very careful with the flower because it had been selected for a holy purpose. I lovingly cupped it in my hands so nothing would happen to it.

When I got home, I did as my mother instructed and told the flower what burden I wanted lifted and taken to God. How was the flower to do this? Remember, this was a Sacrifice Flower, one that was going to die. The idea was that as life went out of the flower, it would carry my prayer to God.

That meant, of course, the flower was not to be placed in water. I had a shelf in my room that I liked to use for my Sacrifice Flower because it was sort of private and yet I could see it as I went in and out.

Everytime I saw the flower, I could see it giving its life for me and I could imagine my prayer being carried to the Lord. That was true even when I was elsewhere and was just thinking about the flower. Either way, I had a strong sense my prayer was being heard. My flower and I were in union.

Sometimes it took a few days, sometimes a couple of weeks. When the flower finally died, I would take it outside, say goodbye to it, and thank it for giving its life for me and for delivering my prayer. Then I would bury it so it would have a chance at a new life, and I always hoped it would come back as an even nicer flower.

In this simple, graphic way my mother taught me how uplifting prayer can be. And, in the process, she taught me about life, too–how basic both dying and rising are to living and how important it is that we become Sacrifice Flowers for each other.

–By Jose Hobday

(4 votes, average: 4.75 out of 5)
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Posted on July 23rd, 2007 by Chris | Permalink |  Email This Post |  Print This Post

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by Tiffany Fate
Used with Permission

As Cassie entered the ninth grade, her mom Misty just “had that gut feeling that something was wrong. I couldn’t pinpoint it, but I just knew something was wrong. I didn’t feel like either I nor my husband had any connection with her.”

Desperate for answers, Misty began to search Cassie’s room regularly, and on one occasion was shocked to discover evidence that her daughter had developed an interest in witchcraft, drugs and alcohol. Facing the trauma of how to deal with their troubled teen, Cassie’s parents decided that the only way to stop their daughter from making more bad decisions was to make a few good choices for her.

So, they began making changes. For starters, they transferred Cassie to a new school–Columbine High School, in suburban Littleton, Colorado. They also kept closer tabs on her friends, her attitudes, and her study habits. In general, they put their foot down, and said, “Cassie, it stops here. You must now choose to take responsibility for your life.”

Cassie began to respond - positively…new friends, new attitudes. One of the new friends was Dave McPherson, youth pastor at West Bowles Community Church. McPherson admitted to the Denver Post that, when he first saw Cassie, he thought to himself, “There’s no hope for that girl. Not our kind of hope.” The joyless look on her face, the monosyllabic speech which came from her lips — all of it suggested that perhaps Cassie was just “too far gone.”

One weekend, though, McPherson encouraged Cassie to accompany the church youth on retreat, and, with her parents’ enthusiastic permission, she agreed. That weekend which changed Cassie’s life. Said Brad, her father, “When she left, she was this gloomy, head-down, say-nothing youth. When she came back, her eyes were open and bright and she was bouncy and just excited about what had happened to her and was just so excited to tell us. It was like she was in a dark room, and somebody turned the light on, and she saw the beauty that was surrounding her.” Said Misty, “She looked at me in the eye and she said, “Mom, I’ve changed. I’ve totally changed. I know you’re not going to believe it, but I’ll prove it to you.’”

The “light” that had been turned on in 17-year-old Cassie’s life was the light of the Lord Jesus Christ, whom she had trusted as her personal Lord and Savior at that church retreat. Jesus changed Cassie-from the inside out. A deep-down, 100-percent kind of transformation, like Paul spoke of in Romans 12:2 when he exhorted us, “be transformed by the renewing of your minds!” Gone was the preoccupation with the occult; instead, Cassie began to spend her spare time, along with her new Christian friends, ministering at Denver’s inner-city Victoria Outreach Church, serving dinner to prostitutes and drug addicts as part of that church’s mission ministry. Cassie even planned to cut off her cornsilk-colored hair that hung halfway down her back, so that it could be given to “someone who makes wigs for kids who are going through chemotherepy,” according to her aunt, Kayleen.

One night, Cassie spoke of her newfound hope for the future with her mom. She said, “Mom, it would be OK if I died. I’d be in a better place, and you know where I’d be.” The same girl who, just a couple years before, had been spinning on the edge, in danger of falling into hopelessness. Jesus change her-she was living life sacrificially in Jesus’ name, and she was ready to die as a child of the Lord Jesus.

On Sunday night, April 18, Cassie stood up and gave her testimony to her youth group at church. She told them, “You really can’t live without Christ. It’s, like, impossible to really have a really true life without Him.” Cassie was ready. With her life–and with death, if necessary.

Two days after that, Cassie was sitting in the library of Columbine High School when Eric Harris and Dylan Kelbold burst in with homemade pipe-bombs and guns. They knew who she was; she’d made no secret of her newfound faith.

The Bible stacked on top of her textbooks, along with the WWJD (”What Would Jesus Do?”) bracelet around her wrist, clearly marked Cassie as one of the “Christians” of Columbine High.

“Do you believe in God?” was the question which was posed to her by that young member of the self-proclaimed “Trenchcoat Mofia.” Her friend, Keven Koeniger, later said that Cassie paused for a long moment. He said, “I think she knew she was going to die.”

Finally, the response came: “Yes, I believe in God.” The trigger was pulled.

You think the question, “Are you ready to die for Jesus?” isn’t an urgent one? Just ask Cassie Bernall. Ask her parents. Misty and Brad said, “We looked at each other and we said, ‘Would I have done that? I would have begged for my life!’ She didn’t.

Cassie Bernall’s brother Chris found this poem on her desk. It was the last poem she wrote before she died.

“Now I have given up on everything else.
I have found it to be the only way
To really know Christ
And to experience the Mighty power
That brought Him back to life again
And to find out what it means
to suffer and die with Him.
So, whatever it takes
I will be one who lives
In the fresh newness of life
Of those who are alive from the dead”

Is your Jesus worth dying for?

(Editor’s note: The “poem” above is actually a quotation from the Living Bible Phil. 3:10-11. The author of this article was mistaken in thinking that Cassie had been the author. However, it is fairly certain that Cassie looked to these verses soon before her death.)

(3 votes, average: 5 out of 5)
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Posted on July 21st, 2007 by Chris | Permalink |  Email This Post |  Print This Post

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A while back I was reading about an expert on subject of time management.

One day this expert was speaking to a group of business students and, to drive home a point, used an illustration I’m sure those students will never forget. After I share it with you, you’ll never forget it either.

As this man stood in front of the group of high-powered overachievers he said, “Okay, time for a quiz.” Then he pulled out a one-gallon, wide-mouthed mason jar and set it on a table in front of him. Then he produced about a dozen fist-sized rocks and carefully placed them, one at a time, into the jar.

When the jar was filled to the top and no more rocks would fit inside, he asked, “Is this jar full?”

Everyone in the class said, “Yes.”

Then he said, “Really?” He reached under the table and pulled out a bucket of gravel. Then he dumped some gravel in and shook the jar causing pieces of gravel to work themselves down into the spaces between the big rocks.

Then he smiled and asked the group once more, “Is the jar full?” By this time the class was onto him.

“Probably not,” one of them answered.

“Good!” he replied. And he reached under the table and brought out a bucket of sand. He started dumping the sand in and it went into all the spaces left between the rocks and the gravel. Once more he asked the question, “Is this jar full?”

“No!” the class shouted.

Once again he said, “Good!” Then he grabbed a pitcher of water and began to pour it in until the jar was filled to the brim. Then he looked up at the class and asked, “What is the point of this illustration?”

One eager beaver raised his hand and said, “The point is, no matter how full your schedule is, if you try really hard, you can always fit some more things into it!”

“No,” the speaker replied, “that’s not the point. The truth this illustration teaches us is: If you don’t put the big rocks in first, you’ll never get them in at all.”

The title of this letter is The “Big Rocks” of Life. What are the big rocks in your life? A project that YOU want to accomplish? Time with your loved ones? Your faith, your education, your finances? A cause? Teaching or mentoring others? Remember to put these BIG ROCKS in first or you’ll never get them in at all.

- Unknown

(3 votes, average: 4.33 out of 5)
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Posted on July 19th, 2007 by Chris | Permalink |  Email This Post |  Print This Post

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