stories-e

Pushing Against the Rock	The Room
The Cat and the Girl	The Touch of the Master's Hand
The Painting of The Last Supper	The Building is on Fire!
Portrait of the Lord Jesus Christ	17 Points to the True Church
Footprints	Prayer - Poem
Attitude	The Power of Decision
Your Hands	The Loveliest Rose in the World
Parable of the Push-Ups

There was a man who asleep one night in his cabin when suddenly his room filled with light and the Savior appeared. The Lord told him he had a work for him to do, and showed him a large rock, explaining that he was to push against that rock with all his might. This the man did, and for many days he toiled from sunup to sundown; his shoulder set squarely against the cold massive surface of the rock pushing with all his might. Each night the man returned to his cabin sure and worn out, feeling that his whole day had been spent in vain.

Seeing that the man was showing signs of discouragement, Satan decided to enter the picture- placing thoughts in the man's mind, such as "Why kill yourself over this, you're never going to move it," or "Boy! You've been at it a ling time and you haven't even scratched the surface," etc. -giving the man the impression that the task was impossible and that he was an unworthy servant because he wasn't moving the massive stone.

These thoughts discouraged and disheartened the man and he started to ease up in his efforts. "Why kill myself?" he thought. "I'll just put in my time, putting forth just the minimum of effort and that will be good enough." And that he did, or at least planned on doing until one day he decided to take his troubles to the Lord. "Lord," he said, "I have labored hard and long in your service, putting forth all my strength to do that which you have asked me. Yet, after all this time, I have not even budged that rock half a millimeter. What is wrong? Why am I failing?" To this the Lord responded compassionately, "My friend.... when long ago I asked you to serve me and you accepted, I told you to push against the rock with all your strength, and that you have done. But never once did I mention to you that I expected you to move it. At least not by yourself. Your task was to push. And now you come to me, your strength spent, thinking that you have failed and ready to quit. But is that really so? Look at yourself. Your arms are strong and muscled; your back sinewed and brown. Your hands are calloused from the constant pressure and your legs have become massive and hard. Through opposition you have grown much and your ability now far surpasses that which you used to have. Yet still, you haven't succeeded in moving the rock; and you come to me now with a heavy heart and your strength spent. I. my friend, will move the rock. Your calling was to be obedient and to push, and to exercise your faith and trust in my wisdom.... and this you have done."

A girl asked a cat who was sitting on a tree: "Would you tell me please, which way I ought to go from here?"
"That depends a good deal on where you want to get to," said the cat.
"I don't much care where--," said Alice.
"Then it doesn't matter which way you go," said the cat.

The story behind painting of The Last Supper is extremely interesting and instructive. Two incidents connected with this painting afford a most convincing lesson on the effects of thought in the life of a boy or girl, or of a man or woman.

During the next six years Da Vinci continued his labors on his sublime work of art. One by one, fitting persons were chosen to represent each of the eleven apostles, space being left for the painting of the figure representing Judas Iscariot as the final task of this masterpiece. This was the apostle, you remember, who betrayed his Lord for thirty pieces of solver, worth $16.95 in our present-day currency.

For weeks Da Vinci searched for a man with a hard callous face, with a countenance marked by scars of avarice, deceit, hypocrisy and crime, a face that would delineate a character who would betray his best friend.

After many discouraging experiences in searching for the type of person required to represent Judas, word came to Da Vinci that a man whose appearance fully met the requirements had been found. He was in a dungeon in Rome, sentenced to die for a life of crime and murder. Da Vinci made the trip to Rome at once, and this man was brought out from his imprisonment in the dungeon an led out into the light of the sun.

There Da Vince sax before him a dark, swarthy man, his long shaggy and unkempt hair sprawled over his face. A face which portrayed a character of viciousness and complete ruin. At last the painter had found the person he wanted to represent the character of Judas in his painting.

By special permission from the king, this prisoner was carried to Milan where the picture was being painted. For six months he sat there before Da Vinci, at appointed hours each day, as the gifted artist diligently continued his task of transmitting to his painting his base character in the picture representing the traitor and betrayer of the Savior. As he finished his last stroke, he turned to the guards and said: "I have finished, you may take the prisoner away." As the guards were leading their prisoner away, he suddenly broke loose from their control and rushed up to Da Vinci, crying as he did so; "Oh, Da Vinci, look at me! Do you not know who I am?"

Da Vince, with the trained eyes of a great character student, carefully scrutinized the man upon whose face he had constantly gazed for six months and replied: "No, I have never seen you in my life until you were brought before me out of the dungeon in Rome."

Then lifting his eyes toward heaven, the prisoner said: "O God, have I fallen so low?" Then turning his face to the painter he cried, "Leonardo Da Vinci, look at me again, for I am the same man you painted just seven years ago as the figure of Christ!"

This is the true story of the painting of the Last Supper that teaches so strongly the lesson of the effects of right and wrong thinking of an individual. He strongly was a young man whose character was so pure and unspoiled by the sins of the world, that he represented a countenance and innocence and beauty fit to be used for the painting of a representation of Christ. But during the seven years, following a life of sin and crime, he was changed into a perfect picture of the most notorious character ever known in the history of the world.

North of Rexburg, Idaho, lives an LDS artist, Del Parsons, who has painted the newest portrait of Christ. He was commissioned by the leaders of the Church of Jesus Christ of the Later Day Saints, to paint this portrait of Christ.

Since his portrait has been completed, he has since given many firesides telling of his experience in painting the Savior. In his presentation, Brother Parsons displayed his first attempt and explained that after submitting it, he anxiously waited for the approval of the Brethren. And then the word came….

Further humbled, he explained that he reapproached the weighty task with a prayerful heart and a desire to be an instrument in the Lord’s hands… Still not suitable. Certain changes needed to be made.

Fireside participants anxiously awaited the unveiling of the third and final… the accepted painting that he has finally provided with the inspiration an guidance to portray the Savior in a way that the Brethren would find acceptable…. And indeed, in a way that would be acceptable to the Lord Himself.

It was at this point that Brother Parsons revealed the accepted portrait of the Savior.

In one particular fireside sat a young, embittered, rebellious teenager girl. She was there in body, but begrudging the experience. You see, she felt very unloved and rejected any love that family and friends had offered and tried to provide. She had been unhappy since, as a young child, she was the sole survivor of a gruesome car accident that claimed the lives of both of her parents. They died at the scene of the accident and this girl was left alone, waiting to be found. After that, she was placed in the custody of relatives, who served as her legal guardians. Within, she had developed bitterness for any care or affection her “family” had tried to offer.

On that particular night, as Brother Parsons unveiled his likeness of the Savior, this young woman instinctively jumped to her feet and rushed forward to the pinging.

And as someone came to her side to quite her, she cried, “He is the one who held me in His arms after my parents were killed until help came.”

The people who witnessed this fireside, and later the change that came over this girl following her startling recollection, have been impressed and touched with the validity of the Savior’s appearance and His personal love and caring for each one of us. We are all special individuals to Him… no matter who we are, or where we are.

One night a man had a dream. He dreamed he was walking along the beach with the Lord. Across the sky flashed scenes from his life. For each scene, he noticed two sets of footprints in the sand: one belonging to him, and the other to the Lord.

I came to the solution, that it is not important for live, how rich someone is, but more from which side of live he looks. The luxuriance of a men is a matter of attitude.

I could be angry that my neighbor, has a car more expensive than mine is, but I could be more thankful to have a car at all.
I could be angry that my suite is to short, but I could be thankful to have enough money to by clothes for my family and I.
I could be angry that my fellow men go on vacations twice a year and I just one time, but I could be thankful for my wife and children, who create a beautiful and lovely home.
I could be angry that I have to pay a lot of taxes to the state, but I could be thankful to have a job and are available to pay for all necessaries.
I could be angry, that my neighbors are loud and inconsiderate, but I could be thankful to have friends, witch are concerned about me.
I could be angry that people show off their money with expensive homes, but I could be thankful to have a home where there is love and peace.
I could be angry to have 2 left hands, but I could be thankful to have a healthy body, with witch I can see all the beauty of the world, and I can listen and feel.

Attitude is more important than the past, than education, than money, then circumstances, than mistakes from the past, than success, or than what people think, say or do.

One day as Jesus preached to a large crowd, he. was approached by several young men, one of whom held something in his hands. Having heard of the wisdom of Jesus, they had plotted to foal him when the crowd was at its greatest.

The day before, they captured a small bird. One of the men planned to say to Jesus, "Teacher, what is it that I have in my hands?" If Jesus should answer a bird, he would ask, "Teacher, is the bird dead or alive?" If Jesus said the bird is dead, he would open his hand and let the bird fly away. lf Jesus answered the bird is alive, he would break it's neck with his thumbs and reveal a dead bird.

The young man confidently approached Jesus with his clasped hand outstretched and questioned: "Teacher if you are so wise, what is in my hands?" Jesus quickly replied: "A small bird is in your hands." Somewhat startled by Jesus' wisdom, the young man continue: "Teacher, if you are so wise, tell me if the bird is dead or alive"

Without a moment's hesitation, but speaking in a solemn voice, Jesus said: "Young man, the decision is in your hands".

There was a boy by the name of Steve who was attending Seminary in Utah. In Utah, Seminary classes are held as part of the curriculum. Brother Christianson taught Seminary at this particular school. He had an open-door policy and would take in any student that had been thrown out of another class as long as they would abide by his rules. Steve had been kicked out of his sixth period and no other teacher wanted him, so he went into Bro. Christianson's Seminary class. Steve was told that he couldn't be late, so he would come in just seconds before the bell rang and he would sit in the very back of the room. He would also be the first to leave after the class was over.

One day, Bro. Christianson asked Steve to stay after class so he could talk with him. After class, Bro. Christianson pulled Steve aside and said, "You think you're pretty tough, don't you?" Steve's answer was, "Yeah, I do." Then Bro. Christianson asked, "How many push-ups can you do?" Steve said, "I do about 200 every night." "200 - that's pretty good, Steve." Bro. Christianson said, "Do you think you could do 300?" Steve replied, "I don't know... I've never done 300 at a time." "Do you think you could?" again asked Bro. Christianson. "Well, I can try." said Steve. "Can you do 300 in sets of 10 - I need you to do 300 in sets of ten for this to work. Can you do it? I need you to tell me you can do it." Bro. Christianson said. Steve said, "Well... I think I can... yeah, I can do it." Bro. Christianson said, "Good! I need you to do this on Friday."

Friday came and Steve got to class early and sat in the front of the room. When class started, Bro. Christianson pulled out a big box of donuts. Now these weren't the normal kinds of donuts. They were the extra fancy BIG kind, with cream centers and frosting swirls. Everyone was pretty excited - it was Friday, the last class of the day, and they were going to get an extra early start on the weekend.

Bro. Christianson went to the first girl in the first row and asked, "Cynthia, do you want a donut?" Cynthia said, "Yes." Bro. Christianson then turned to Steve and asked, "Steve, would you do ten push-ups so that Cynthia can have a donut?" Steve said, "Sure," and jumped down from his desk to do a quick ten. Then Steve again sat in his desk. Bro. Christianson put a donut on Cynthia's desk. Bro. Christianson then went to Joe, the next person, and asked, "Joe, do you want a donut?" Joe said, "Yes." Bro. Christianson asked, "Steve would you do ten push-ups so Joe can have a donut?" Steve did ten push-ups, Joe got a donut.

And so it went, down the first aisle. Steve did ten push-ups for every person before they got their donut. And down the second aisle, till Bro. Christianson came to Scott. Scott was captain of the football team and center of the basketball team. He was very popular and never lacking for female companionship. When Bro. Christianson asked, "Scott do you want a donut?" Scott's reply was, "Well, can I do my own push-ups?" Bro. Christianson said, "No, Steve has to do them." Then Scott said, "Well, I don't want one then." Bro. Christianson then turned to Steve and asked, "Steve, would you do ten push-ups so Scott can have a donut he doesn't want?" Steve started to do ten push-ups. Scott said, "HEY! I said I didn't want one!" Bro. Christianson said, "Look, this is my classroom, my class, my desks, and my donuts. Just leave it on the desk if you don't want it", and he put a donut on Scott's desk.

Now by this time, Steve had begun to slow down a little. He just stayed on the floor between sets because it took too much effort to be getting up and down, and a little perspiration appeared around his brow.

Bro. Christianson started down the third row. By now, the students were beginning to get a little angry. Bro. Christianson asked Jenny, "Jenny, do you want a donut?" Jenny said, "No". Then Bro. Christianson asked Steve, "Steve, would you do ten push-ups so Jenny can have a donut that she doesn't want?" Steve did ten, Jenny got a donut. By now, the students were beginning to say "No" and there were all these uneaten donuts on the desks. Steve was also having to really put forth a lot of effort to get these push-ups done for each donut. There began to be a small pool of sweat on the floor beneath his face, and his arms and brow were beginning to get red because of the physical effort involved. Bro. Christianson asked Robert to watch Steve to make sure he did ten push-ups in a set because he couldn't bear to watch all of Steve's work for all of those uneaten donuts. Robert began to watch Steve closely. Bro. Christianson started down the fourth row.

During his class, however, some students had wandered in and sat along the heaters along the sides of the room. When Bro. Christianson realized this, he did a quick count and saw that there were now 34 students in the room. He started to worry if Steve would be able to make it. Bro. Christianson went on to the next person and the next and the next. Near the end of that row, Steve was really having a rough time. He was taking a lot more time to complete each set. Steve asked Bro. Christianson, "Do I have to make my nose touch on each one?" Bro. Christianson thought for a moment, "Well, they're your push-ups. You can do them any way that you want." And Bro. Christianson went on.

A few moments later, Jason came to the room and was about to come in when all the students yelled, "NO! Don't come in! Stay out!" Jason didn't know what was going on. Steve picked up his head and said, "No, let him come." Bro. Christianson said, "You realize that if Jason comes in you will have to do ten push-ups for him." Steve said, "Yes, let him come in." Bro. Christianson said, "Okay, I'll let you get Jason's out of the way right now. Jason, do you want a donut?" "Yes ." "Steve, will you do ten push-ups so that Jason can have a donut?" Steve did ten push-ups very slowly and with great effort. Jason, bewildered, was handed a donut and sat down.

Bro. Christianson finished the fourth row, then started on those seated on the heaters. Steve's arms were now shaking with each push-up in a struggle to lift himself against the force of gravity. Sweat was dropping off of his face and, by this time, there was not a dry eye in the room. The very last two girls in the room were cheerleaders and very popular. Bro. Christianson went to Linda, the second to last, and asked, "Linda, do you want a donut?" Linda, too choked up to talk, just shook her head. Bro. Christianson asked Steve, "Steve, would you do ten push-ups so that Linda can have a donut she doesn't want?" Grunting from the effort, Steve did ten very slow push-ups for Linda. Then Bro. Christianson turned to the last girl, Susan. "Susan, do you want a donut?" Susan, with tears flowing down her face, asked, "Bro. Christianson, can I help him?" Bro. Christianson, with tears of his own, said, "No, he has to do it alone." "Steve, would you do ten push-ups so Susan can have a donut?" As Steve very slowly finished his last push-up, with the understanding that he had accomplished all that was required of him, having done 350 push-ups, his arms buckled beneath him and he fell to the floor.

Bro. Christianson then said, "And so it was, that our Savior, Jesus Christ, pleaded to the Father, "Into thy hands I commend my spirit", and with the understanding that He had done everything that was required of Him, collapsed on the cross and died - even for those that didn't want His gift."

In a place between wakefulness and dreams I found myself in the room. There were no distinguishing features save for the one wall covered with small index card files. They were like the ones in libraries that list titles by author or subject in alphabetical order. But these files, which stretched from floor to ceiling seemingly endlessly in either direction and had very different headings. As I drew near the wall of files, the first to catch my attention was one that read "People I Have liked." I opened it and began flipping through the cards. I quickly shut it, shocked to realize that I had recognized the names written on each one.

And than without being told I knew exactly where I was. This lifeless room with its small files was a crude catalogue system from my life. Here were written the actions of my every memory, big and small in detail couldn’t match.

A sense of wonder and curiosity, coupled with horror, stirred within me as I began randomly opening files and exploring their content. Some brought joy and sweet memories; others a sense of shame and regret so intense that I would look over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching. A file named "Friends", was next to one marked "Friends I Have Betrayed".

The titles ranged from mundane to the outright weird "Books I Have Read", "Lies I Have laughed at", "Lies I Have Told", "Comfort I Have Given", "Jokes I Have Laughed at." Some were almost hilarious in their exactness: "Things I’ve Yelled at my Brother". Others I couldn’t laugh at. "Things I Have Muttered under my Breath At my Parents." I never ceased to be surprised by the contents. Often there were many more cards than I expected. Sometimes fewer than I hoped. I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life I had lived. Could it be possible that I had the time in my 20 years to write each of these thousands or even millions of cards? But each card confirmed this truth. Each was written in my own handwriting. Each was signed with my signature. When I pulled out the file marked "Songs I Have Listened To", I realized the files grew to contain their contents. The cards were packed tightly and yet after two or three yards, I hadn’t found the end of the file. I shut it, shamed, not so much by the quality of music, but more by the vast amount of time I knew that file represented.

When I came to the file marked "Lustful thoughts" I felt a chill run through my body. I pulled the file out an inch, not willing to test its size, and drew out a card. I shuddered at its detail content. I felt sick to sink that such a moment had been recorded

An almost animal rage broke on me. One thought dominated my mind: "No one must ever see these cards! -No one must ever see this room I have destroyed them!" In an insane frenzy I yanked the file out. Its size didn’t matter now. I had empty it and burn the cards. But as I took it at one end and began pounding it on the floor, I could not dislodge a single card. I became desperate and pulled out a card only to find as strong steel when I tried to tear it.

Defeated and utterly helpless, I returned the file to its slot. Leaning my forehead against the wall, I let out a long, self-pitying sigh. And then I saw it. The title bore "People I Have Shared the Gospel With". The handle was brighter than those around it, newer, almost unused. I pulled its handle and a small box not more than three inches long fell into my hands. I could count the cards it contained on one hand

And then the tears came. I began to weep. Sobs so deep that the hurt started in my stomach and shook through me. I felt on my knees and cried. I cried out of shame, from the overwhelming shame of it all. The rows of file shelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes. No one must ever, ever know of this room I must lock it up and hide the key.

But then as I pushed away the tears, I saw Him. No pleas not Him, not here. Oh, anyone but Jesus. I watched helplessly as He began to open the files and read the cards. I couldn’t bear to watch His response. And in the moments I could bring myself to look sat His face, I saw a sorrow deeper than my own. He seemed to intuitively go to the worst boxes - why did he have to read every one?

Finally He turned and looked at me from across the room He looked at me with pity in His eyes. But this was a pity that didn’t anger me. I dropped my head covered my face with my hands and began to cry again. He walked over and put His arm around me. He could have said so many things, but he didn’t say a word He just cried with me.

Then He got up and walked back to the wall of files. Starting at one end of the room He took out a file and, one by one, began to sign His name over mine on each card

"No!" I shouted rushing to Him. All I could find to say was "No, no!", as I pulled the card from Him. His name shouldn’t be on these cards, but there it was, written in red so rich, so dark, so alive. The name of Jesus covered mine. It was written in his blood

He gently took the card back. He smiled a sad smile and began to sign the cards. I don’t think I’ll ever understand how He did it so quickly, but the next instant it seemed I heard him close the last file and walked back to my side. He placed His hand on my shoulder and said: "It is finished!" I stood up, and he led me out of the room. There was no lock on its door. There were still cards to be written.

It was battered and scarred and the auctioneer thought it scarcely worth his while to auction off the old violin; As he held it up with a smile, "What am I bid, good people", he cried, "Who'll start the bidding for me? A dollar - a dollar, now who’ll make it two? Two dollars—who’ll make it three?

But no, from the room far back a gray haired man came forward and picked up the bow; then dusting off the old violin and tightening up the strings he played a melody pure and sweet, as sweet as an angel sings.

The music ceased, and the auctioneer in a voice that was quite and low said, "What am I bid for the old violin?" as he held it up with the bow. "A thousand dollars--and who’ll make it two? Two thousand--and who’ll make it three? Three thousand once, three thousand twice, going and gone", said he. The people cheered, but some of them cried, "We don't quite understand. What changed its worth?" Quick came the replay: "The touch of the master’s hand."

And many a life that is out of tune and broken and battered by sin is auctioned cheap to the thoughtless crowd much like the old violin. A mess of pottage, a glass of wine, a drink and he ravels on; He is going, once, he is going twice he is going and almost gone. But the Master comes, and the thoughtless crowd never can quite understand. The worth of a soul, or the change that's wrought by the touch of the Master’s hand

The Methodists raised their hands in horror and cried: "This interferes with our plans!"
The Baptists cried: "Where is the water!"
The Presbyterians elected a chairman who was to look into the matter!
The Christian Scientists agreed among themselves that there was no fire!
Some Fundamentalists shouted: "This is the vengeance of God!"
Tae Lutherans after debating, the matter posted a notice outside the door declaring: "The fire was evil!"
The Quakers quickly praised God for all the blessings that fire brings them!
Some Jews who were in attendance as observers went around posting symbols on the doors hopping that the fire would pass over them harmlessly!
The Catholics quickly started a raffle for a building fund!
The Congregationalists and the Unitarians shouted: "Every man for himself!"
The Episcopalians formed a recessional and marched out of the building in grand style!
The Jehovah Witnesses went door to door telling, everyone about the fire!

One of these five was a genius, John Vincent Dunbar, extremely high 1.Q. and photographic mind. He could glance down the page of the Bible, close the book and quote the page verbatim. They went to Dunbar's room in the dorm and he took the Bible and read in Ephesians that there shall be One Lord, One Faith and One Baptism. They decided that if Dr. Einstein's last statement was true then one of the more than 800 churches on earth must be God's True Church.

Dunbar, the genius, brought into their apartment a 16' blackboard on casters and went through the New Testament page by page listing all the qualities that God's Church, according to the New Testament, should have. Their research was completed in 8 weeks so they went over the research points and after carefully study retained 17 of the most important features and had them typed up on a 5x7 index cards - one for each.

Before parting company these five, they visited many churches with their criteria uppermost in their minds. Weston immediately became disenchanted with his church and Dunbar's church was also eliminated. Before their search was completed, they all went to various branches of the armed services. Glassy was shot down over North Africa and never returned. Weston, in his service work came in contact with 8 or 10 LDS boys who took him to a church - one which met all 17 requirements. There was no contact with the others until after the war was over.

After the war, Weston went to a Stake Conference in Burbank, California and, on looking across the chapel saw his friend, Dunbar. After the meeting was over they were overjoyed to greet each other and Weston said; "Dunbar, what are you doing here?" Dunbar replied: "1 found the church that met all 17 requirements, 1 have joined the Mormon Church - or with the official name - "The Church of Jusus Christ of the latter Day Saints", but what are you doing here?" Weston replied. "1, too, have joined the church that met all 17 requirements, the Mormon Church." After this happy reunion they decided to contact Stockhocker and Williams and found that they, too, had joined the Mormon Church because it met all 17 requirements.

He was a unique manager because he had several waiters who had followed him around from restaurant to restaurant. The reason the waiters followed Jerry was because of his attitude. He was a natural motivator. If an employee was having a bad day, Jerry was there telling the employee how to look on the positive side of the situation.

Seeing this style really made me curious, so one day I went up to Jerry and asked him, "I don't get it! You can't be a positive person all of the time. How do you do it?" Jerry replied, "Each morning I wake up and say to myself, Jerry, you have two choices today. You can choose to be in a good mood or you can choose to be in a bad mood.' I choose to be in a good mood. Each time something bad happens, I can choose to be a victim or I can choose to learn from it.

I choose to learn from it. Every time someone comes to me complaining, I can choose to accept their complaining or I can point out the positive side of life. I choose the positive side of life."

"Yes it is," Jerry said. "Life is all about choices. When you cut away all the junk, every situation is a choice. You choose how you react to situations. You choose how people will affect your mood. You choose to be in a good mood or bad mood. The bottom line: It's your choice how you live life."

I reflected on what Jerry said. Soon thereafter, I left the restaurant industry to start my own business. We lost touch, but often thought about him when I made a choice about life instead of reacting to it.

Several years later, I heard that Jerry did something you are never supposed to do in a restaurant business: he left the back door open one morning and was held up at gunpoint by three armed robbers.

While trying to open the safe, his hand, shaking from nervousness, slipped off the combination. The robbers panicked and shot him. Luckily, Jerry was found relatively quickly and rushed to the local trauma center.

After 18 hours of surgery and weeks of intensive care, Jerry was released from the hospital with fragments of the bullets still in his body. I saw Jerry about six months after the accident. When I asked him how he was, he replied "If I were any better, I'd be twins. Wanna see my scars?"

I declined to see his wounds, but did ask him what had gone through his mind as the robbery took place. "The first thing that went through my mind was that I should have locked the back door," Jerry replied. "Then, as I lay on the floor, I remembered that I had two choices: I could choose to live, or I could choose to die. I chose to live.

Jerry continued, "The paramedics were great. They kept telling me I was going to be fine. But when they wheeled me into the emergency room and I saw the expressions on the faces of the doctors and nurses, I got really scared. In their eyes, I read, 'He's a dead man.' I knew I needed to take action."

"Well, there was a big, burly nurse shouting questions at me," said Jerry. "She asked if I was allergic to anything. 'Yes,' I replied.

The doctors and nurses stopped working as they waited for my reply... I took a deep breath and yelled, 'Bullets!' Over their laughter, I told them, 'I am choosing to live. Operate on me as if I am alive, not dead."

Jerry lived thanks to the skill of his doctors, but also because of his amazing attitude. I learned from him that every day we have the choice to live fully. Attitude, after all, is everything.

There lived once a great queen, in whose garden were found at all seasons the most splendid flowers, and from every land in the world. She specially loved roses, and therefore she possessed the most beautiful varieties of this flower, from the wild hedge-rose, with its apple-scented leaves, to the splendid Provence rose. They grew near the shelter of the walls, wound themselves round columns and window-frames, crept along passages and over the ceilings of the halls. They were of every fragrance and color.

But care and sorrow dwelt within these halls; the queen lay upon a sick bed, and the doctors declared that she must die. “There is still one thing that could save her,” said one of the wisest among them. “Bring her the loveliest rose in the world; one which exhibits the purest and brightest love, and if it is brought to her before her eyes close, she will not die.”

Then from all parts came those who brought roses that bloomed in every garden, but they were not the right sort. The flower must be one from the garden of love; but which of the roses there showed forth the highest and purest love? The poets sang of this rose, the loveliest in the world, and each named one which he considered worthy of that title; and intelligence of what was required was sent far and wide to every heart that beat with love; to every class, age, and condition.

“No one has yet named the flower,” said the wise man. “No one has pointed out the spot where it blooms in all its splendor. It is not a rose from the coffin of Romeo and Juliet, or from the grave of Walburg, though these roses will live in everlasting song. It is not one of the roses which sprouted forth from the blood-stained fame of Winkelreid. The blood which flows from the breast of a hero who dies for his country is sacred, and his memory is sweet, and no rose can be redder than the blood which flows from his veins. Neither is it the magic flower of Science, to obtain which wondrous flower a man devotes many an hour of his fresh young life in sleepless nights, in a lonely chamber.”

“I know where it blooms,” said a happy mother, who came with her lovely child to the bedside of the queen. “I know where the loveliest rose in the world is. It is seen on the blooming cheeks of my sweet child, when it expresses the pure and holy love of infancy; when refreshed by sleep it opens its eyes, and smiles upon me with childlike affection.”

“This is a lovely rose,” said the wise man; “but there is one still more lovely.”

“Yes, one far more lovely,” said one of the women. “I have seen it, and a loftier and purer rose does not bloom. But it was white, like the leaves of a blush-rose. I saw it on the cheeks of the queen. She had taken off her golden crown, and through the long, dreary night, she carried her sick child in her arms. She wept over it, kissed it, and prayed for it as only a mother can pray in that hour of her anguish.”

“Holy and wonderful in its might is the white rose of grief, but it is not the one we seek.”

“No; the loveliest rose in the world I saw at the Lord’s table,” said the good old bishop. “I saw it shine as if an angel’s face had appeared. A young maiden knelt at the altar, and renewed the vows made at her baptism; and there were white roses and red roses on the blushing cheeks of that young girl. She looked up to heaven with all the purity and love of her young spirit, in all the expression of the highest and purest love.”

“May she be blessed!” said the wise man: “but no one has yet named the loveliest rose in the world.”

Then there came into the room a child—the queen’s little son. Tears stood in his eyes, and glistened on his cheeks; he carried a great book and the binding was of velvet, with silver clasps. “Mother,” cried the little boy; “only hear what I have read.” And the child seated himself by the bedside, and read from the book of Him who suffered death on the cross to save all men, even who are yet unborn. He read, “Greater love hath no man than this,” and as he read a roseate hue spread over the cheeks of the queen, and her eyes became so enlightened and clear, that she saw from the leaves of the book a lovely rose spring forth, a type of Him who shed His blood on the cross.

“I see it,” she said. “He who beholds this, the loveliest rose on earth, shall never die.”

1	Christ organized the Church. (Epheser 4:11-14)
2	The true Church must bear the name of Jesus Christ. (Epheser 5.23)
3	The True Church must have a foundation of Apostles and Prophets. (Epheser 2-19-20)
4	The True Church must have the same organization as Christ’s Church. (Epheser 4-11-14)
5	The True Church must claim divine authority. (Hebrews 5:4-10)
6	The True Church must have no paid ministry. (Isaiah 45:13, 1 Peter 5:2)
7	The True Church must baptized by immersion. (Matthew 3:13-16)
8	The True Church must bestow the gift of the Holy Ghost by the laying on of hands. (Acts 8:14)
9	The True Church must practice divine healing. (Mark 3:14-15)
10	The True Church must teach that God and Jesus are separate and distinct individuals. (John 17:11 John 20:1)
11	The True Church must teach that God and Jesus have bodies of flesh and bone. (Luke 24-36-39; Acts 1:9-11)
12	The officers must be called of God. (Hebrew 5:4; Exodus 40:13-16; Exodus 25-1)
13	The True Church must claim revelation from God. (Amos 3-.7)
14	The True Church must be a missionary church. (Matthew 28:19-20)
15	The true Church must be a restored church. (Acts 3:19-20)
16	The True Church must practice baptism for the dead. (1 Corinthians 15:16; 29)
17	"By their fruits ye shall know them." (Matthew 7-20)