Galatians 2:20a
I am crucified with Christ: nevertheless I live; yet not i, but Christ liveth in me:
My Life Verse

Ephesians 6:6

Not with eyeservice, as men pleasers; but as the servants of Christ, doing the will of God from the heart;

Wednesday, September 16, 2009

ROUGH Speech


Below is my speech that i gave at school today, it was only 2 minutes long so it should take you less than that to read it if you'd like to. IT IS A ROUGH DRAFT of what i actually said, i changed it and used different words as i went...in fact i think it was better when i actually did it instead of reading it.


"Just Bag It" Speech


John 8:55-Yet ye have not known him; but I know him: and if I should say, I know him not, I shall be a liar like unto you: but I know him.

In my experience I have found that I feel the most comfortable around someone when I know more about them.

So, because I’d like you to feel comfortable when you speak to me, I’m going to enlighten you about myself.

Three important things to me are, playing volleyball, playing the violin, and being involved in my church.

First, I’m going to tell you about my favorite sport, Volleyball. I have played volleyball on my adult church team for the past 2 years and my 3rd season starts in 2 weeks. My team isn’t the most professional but last year we did win 4 games and received the sportsmanship award. Volleyball is my favorite sport because a) it’s the only one I’m good at, and b) because it doesn’t require me to be extremely physically fit. Good thing too, because I’m not!

Second, I’d like to tell you about my musical talent. I enjoy playing the violin and have done so for the past 9 years. The majority of my playing takes place in my church orchestra on Sundays and Wednesdays.

I am honored that God has given me such a talent and I am always excided and challenged when our orchestra gets a new musical number to learn.

Finally, I’m going to tell you the most important thing in my life, my involvement with my church. Each Sunday and Wednesday I take great joy in serving God not only by playing in the orchestra, but I also serve in the bus ministry that picks up kids who don’t have transportation to church.

While serving God thrills me, the preaching time is the best. Though I’m not always exuberant to see what I’m doing wrong in my life, I’m always blessed when I get it right. I realized just this past week that I spend %15 of my week at Church. That shows how big a part of my life it is!

Today I’ve told you 3 things that define me: my favorite sport, my musical talent, and my church involvement.

So in the future, if you aren’t comfortable around someone, its probably because you don’t know him or her very well, but now, you can’t say that about me.


Radiantly Dictated By at
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1 comment:

RachaelLeigh said...

Yeah right! Did you even really read it??? (just say no cos i know=)

September 19, 2009 at 1:28 PM

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I Have Been Blessed!!!!


THE ROOM

In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in the room.
There were no distinguishing features except 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 and seemingly endless in either direction, had very different headings. As I drew near the wall of files, the first to
catch my attention was one that read "Girls I have liked." I opened it and began flipping through the cards. I quickly shut it, shocked to realize that I recognized the names written on each one. And then without being told, I knew exactly where I was.

This lifeless room with its small files was a crude catalog system for my life. Here were written the actions of my every moment, big and small, in a detail my memory 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 the mundane to the outright weird "Books I Have Read," "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 brothers." Others I couldn't laugh at: "Things I Have Done in My Anger", "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 years to fill each of these thousands or even millions of cards? But each card confirmed this truth.
Each was written in my own handwriting. Each signed with my signature.

When I pulled out the file marked "TV Shows I have watched", 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 shows but more by the vast time I knew that file represented.

When I came to a file marked "Lustful Thoughts," I felt a chill run through my body. I pulled the file out only an inch, not willing to test its size and drew out a card. I shuddered at its detailed content.

I felt sick to think 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 to destroy them!" In insane frenzy I yanked the file out. Its size didn't matter now. I had to 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 it as strong as 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 on 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 they hurt. They started in my stomach and shook through me. I fell 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, please 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 at 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 with 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 walk 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.
- Brian Moore