A man was walking on the beach and found an old copper lamp  washed up by the surf. When he rubbed the lamp, sure enough, it produced a magic genie.

“Be careful what you ask for,” the genie said, “I have only one wish left to grant.”

The man pondered quite a while, then said, “I wish you would give me the stock market section from the New York Times exactly one year from today.”

In a puff of smoke the future financial section appeared and the genie vanished into the clouds. With glee the man took the newspaper back home and sat on his deck studying the stock reports. Which stocks would make the best profit? He could invest in the stock market with absolutely no risk, since he knew which stocks were winners a full year in advance. 

As he reached for his cell phone to call his broker, a gust of wind turned the page over and he saw the obituaries. There at the top of the newspaper page was his own name!

Have you ever wished you could know the future? As the poor guy in the story discovered, it might not be as nice as you think. But Christians do know some things for sure. We know that the Bible is a trustworthy guide for life. We know that, whatever the future holds, there is no way God will ever stop loving us—He promises that in Romans 8:35–39. And we know that a wonderful home in heaven awaits every individual who has trusted Jesus Christ as Savior.

Even if we don’t know everything that the future holds, we definitely know who holds the future. And that’s even better than having our own personal genie.

Feel free to use these stories in your own sermon (or un–sermon), lesson, or just around the water cooler. Don’t bother to credit me, since I can’t always remember where I heard them, either.

The English village of Clyst St. George in Exeter  is both ancient and picturesque, with classic small–town architecture, stonework dating from Oliver Cromwell, a vigorous farmer’s market and thatched roofs on many charming cottages.

You can imagine just how out–of–place the lowly  bum seemed. The grubby, hollow–looking man went from door to door, tapping, asking for a shilling,  some  Yorkshire pudding or a piece of bread with kidney pie. Part way down the rough street of paving stones he paused before a classic English pub. Above the door hung a sign, slightly warped and peeling. “The Inn of Saint George and the Dragon,” it announced. Hesitantly, the old man entered.

 “What’re ye doin’ in here?” the waitress rasped when she saw the indigent. “We don’ want none o’ yer ken in this respectable establishment!”

“Couldn’t ye jus’ spare a wee somethin’ to drink?” the man whined.

“Outa here with ye,” the woman growled, “we cater only to them what kin pay.”

The beggar hung his head and retreated into the damp outdoors. Part way up the street he stopped, shaded his eyes against the rain and peered back at the sign, slowly mouthing the words, “Saint George” and “Dragon.”

With a determined step he returned to the pub, pushed the weathered door inward and strode to the bar.

 “Listen,” he said, “now that the Dragon has turned me down, I was wonderin’ if I might have a word with Saint George.”

Some people seem beneath our dignity; maybe poor, or homely, or intellectually slow. How many of us are willing to make eye contact with those poor folks standing on the street corners with “Anything will help” signs? Whatever the reason, we feel above them, and many of us can’t be bothered to listen or care or offer kindness.

In Matthew 25:40 we read Jesus’ words, “Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.” That’s a pretty good guideline for measuring dragon–or–saint behavior. Based on how I treat others, I wonder if people sometimes think I’m the “Dragon”? I can’t say I feel much like a “Saint,” but at least I can show dignity and respect to others, whatever they’re like. I’m confident that’s what Jesus would do.

The little lad on the train station platform was selling apples. Lots of people did that during the Great Depression. This tyke had no family and no other visible means of support.

Each day he bought two dozen apples from the fruit stand, then sold them to busy travelers. Most of the time he would make enough money for the next day’s supply plus a hot meal each evening.

Today he was there as usual, hawking the shiny fruit he had carefully polished on his one–and–only, less–than–pristine shirt. A businessman watched sadly from the train as the thin, hungry child held up his glossy, red fruit, shouting in a sharp, yet wispy voice, “Fresh apples, just five cents each. An apple a day keeps the doctor away. Get yer apple here.”

Without warning a man, hurrying to catch his train, crashed into the boy, half–hidden by the milling crowd. To the lad’s horror, the apples rocketed off in every direction: two rolled under the train, another was crushed by scurrying feet, one or two were snatched up by opportunistic people on the platform.

Seeing the destruction of his tiny business—his only means of support—the youngster cried out in panic and dashed back and forth, trying to rescue a few apples before his entire life’s investment was gone.

And then a tall, well–dressed man was shoving people aside, his booming voice calling again and again, “Watch out for the apples. Don’t ruin the apples!” He and the lad rushed about, rescuing, one–by–one, the precious fruit. It was the man who had been watching from the train.

In less than two minutes the child and his lanky benefactor rounded up the errant apples—but five were lost. With a kind smile the man handed the boy a quarter. “Here,” he said, “this should cover your losses.” Then he turned to re–board the train.

“Mister,” the child yelled after him, “are you God?”

“No,” the man smiled, “I’m not God. But I am one of His friends.”

A friend of God! Can you think of a better thing to be called, in all the whole, wide world? In fact, the Christian is even more than merely friends with God. The Apostle Paul mentioned that we are co–heirs of God’s Kingdom, along with Christ (Romans 8:17).

Charles Osgood of CBS reported that a widow in West Palm Beach, Florida, died alone at the age of 71. The coroner’s report told a tragic story—“Cause of death: malnutrition.” The poor woman wasted away to less than 100 pounds before finally starving to death. The investigator who found her reported that her shabby dwelling was a pigsty, the worst he had ever seen.

The woman begged food from her neighbors and got her wardrobe from the local Goodwill store. For all outward appearances she was a penniless recluse. But, as we all know, appearances can deceive.

Amid the confusion of her disarray were two keys from safe–deposit boxes at local banks. What they found takes your breath away. In the first bank they found more than 700 shares of AT&T stock, plus hundreds of other valuable CDs, bonds and financial securities. Oh, and don’t forget the $200,000 stack of cash.

The second box had no stocks or bonds, just more cash—$600,000 to be exact. All together the estate of the deceased was worth more than a cool million. Osgood announced that the estate would probably go to a distant niece and nephew, who were astonished that their aunt had that kind of money. They never dreamed she had two nickels to rub together.

The impoverished millionaire died alone, starved, with virtually nothing of value in her possession, while a fortune languished in two banks a mile away.

Many people live out this story in another realm. We have access to our Father’s untold, unfathomable wealth, yet we live like spiritual paupers. We’re heirs to God’s riches, the Bible says, yet we barely scrape by, half–starved and begging, in a spiritual sense, because we never go to the Bank of Heaven and withdraw the limitless assets that God has on deposit there for us. In every sense—physically, socially, emotionally/mentally and spiritually—the Christian has access to heavenly wealth. We get our share of this wealth by building a personal relationship with God.

And Wall Street can’t lose a single dime of it.

Terrific Twosomes

I was visiting two elderly sisters who live together, and they were telling me how God helps them in their areas of weakness. It seems that where one is not strong, her sister is. And so, their weaknesses are addressed by helping one another in ways God has made them strong.

It reminded me of two older women who had both been accomplished pianists. But as the years went by, they both had strokes that limited their abilities and their perceived usefulness. And both had to give up playing the piano, one of the great pleasures in their lives.

Eventually the two women, who had never met each other before, found themselves as residents in the same nursing home. They sat and visited, talking about family and the good years they had each enjoyed. They also talked about having a stroke and how it changed so many things in their lives.

The first woman told her new friend how she loved to play the piano before her left side was paralyzed. She mentioned the musical selections she loved but couldn’t play anymore, with one hand now pretty much useless.

The second woman got a gleam in her eye. “I taught piano for 32 years, and I used to play in church, and even played several years for the community chorale. But I haven’t played a note since the stroke paralyzed my right side.

“If I could still play with my left hand,” she mused, “and you could still play with your right hand, maybe we could make some music together.”

And sure enough, soon they were making beautiful music, one playing with just her right hand, the other playing with just her left hand. They made a Terrific Twosome indeed.

When I was a kid, my Mother saw two people working this Terrific Twosome thing in the grocery store one day. The woman was crippled and stuck in a wheelchair. But her eyes were 20/20 and she had her wits about her. The fellow was big and strong and walked like a lumberjack, but he was blind. He pushed her around the store in the chair, she read the labels and made the purchases. Together they epitomized the kind of cooperative life God intends for His people, the church.

Paul admitted in 2 Corinthians 12:10 that he was at his strongest when he was at his weakest. He even claimed to be content with weakness, and who are we to dispute Paul? Apparently, being content to be weak is biblical—only in the context, however, of an open door to the strength of Christ Himself flowing through my weakness.

“Terrific Twosomes” sounds like a God thing, doesn’t it? We could all be in God’s Terrific Twosomes, if only we would support each other in our partnered weakness and strengths. I suspect that some beautiful music would result.



* Feel free to use these in your own sermon (or un–sermon), lesson, or just around the water cooler. You don’t have to credit me, since I can’t always remember where I heard them either.