|A little girl was in church with her mother when she started feeling ill.
“Mommy,” she said, “can we leave now?”
“No” her mother replied.
“Well, I think I’m gonna be sick, Momma!”
“Then go out the front door and around to the back of the church and then behind a bush.”
After about 60 seconds the little girl returned to her seat. “Were you sick?” her mom asked.
“How could you have gone all the way to the back of the church and returned so quickly?”
“I didn’t have to go out of the church, Mommy. They have a box next to the front door that says, ‘For the Sick’.”
Statue of Jesus Christ moves his head during mass in front of followers.
In front of the incredulous gaze of the church’s father, as well as dozens of faithful followers, a statue of Jesus Christ shakes his head. The incredible and shocking fact was recorded in video through the camera of a mobile phone.
Parishioners at a church in Mexico were left awestruck when they saw a statue of Jesus seemingly move its head during a Good Friday mass.
An attendee at the service, which took place in the town of Tepetitlan, captured the eerie event on video via their cell phone.
In the footage, the statue’s head can be seen slightly swaying to the side in a motion that left onlookers stunned.
Many of the churchgoers concluded that the incident was some kind of miraculous occurrence, however the priest presiding over the service begs to differ.
According to Fr. Guerra Lule, the head of the 300-year-old statue is detachable and only used during special services, requiring it to be held atop the figure using velvet ropes.
As such, he suggested, the head likely became dislodged from the statue as one of the ropes broke.
Nonetheless, Lule appreciated the remarkable timing of the event and mused that it was “beautiful.”
Indeed, despite the priest’s explanation, one can’t help but wonder if there was more than mere coincidence at work when the statue suddenly stirred.
|There was a congregation that decided to have four worship services each Sunday.
There was one for those new to the faith.
Another for those who liked traditional worship.
One for those who had lost their faith and would like to get it back.
And another for those who had a bad experience with church and were complaining about it.
They have names for each of the services: “Finders, Keepers, Losers, Weepers.”
|Have you ever told a white lie? You are going to love this… especially all the ladies who bake for church events.
Alice was to bake a cake for the church ladies’ group bake sale, but she forgot to do it until the last-minute.
She baked an angel food cake and when she took it from the oven, the center had dropped flat.
She said, “Oh dear, there’s no time to bake another cake.”
So, she looked around the house for something to build up the center of the cake.
Alice found it in the bathroom … a roll of toilet paper.
She plunked it in and covered it with icing.
The finished product looked beautiful, so she rushed it to the church. Before she left the house, Alice had given her daughter some money and specific instructions to be at the bake sale the minute it opened, and to buy that cake and bring it home.
When the daughter arrived at the sale, the attractive cake had already been sold.
Alice was beside herself.
The next day, Alice was invited to a friend’s home where two tables of bridge were to be played that afternoon.
After the game, a fancy lunch was served, and to top it off, the cake in question was presented for dessert.
Alice saw the cake, she started to get out of her chair to rush into the kitchen to tell her hostess all about it, but before she could get to her feet, one of the other ladies said, “What a beautiful cake!”
Alice sat back in her chair when she heard the hostess (who was a prominent church member) say,
“Thank you, I baked it myself.”
|A woman named Jill stood up at her church’s Testimony Meeting, or as some churches call it, “Cry Sunday”, one Sunday morning, took the microphone from one of the church ushers, and bared her soul to the enrapt congregation:
“I want to tell you about the awful accident that my husband, Jim, has suffered this past month.
He was riding his bike, lost control, ran off the highway and hit a tree. He was rushed to the hospital, and could have died, but thank the Lord, all he suffered was a broken scrotum.”
The congregation gasped in horror.
The men in the congregation were obviously uneasy and writhed in their seats.
“Jim has been in terrible pain all month since the accident.
He has trouble breathing. He has trouble swallowing his food.
He can hardly lift anything, he’s in so much pain, and he has missed work because of it.
He can’t lift our children up to hold them and give them the personal love that they need.
Worst of all, we can no longer cuddle and have intimate relations.
He is in constant pain, a pain so terrible that our love life has all but slipped away into oblivion.
I would like to ask you all in the congregation to pray for Jim, and pray for us, that his broken scrotum will soon heal and be as good as new.”
A dull murmur erupted within the congregation as the full impact of this terrible accident sunk in, and the men in the congregation were visibly shaken up with the thought that, “there but for the grace of God go I.”
Then, as the murmuring settled down, a lone figure stood up in midst of the congregation, worked his way up to the pulpit, obviously in pain, adjusted the microphone to his liking, then leaned over and said to the congregation:
“My name is Jim, and I have only one word for my wife, Jill.
That word is: STERNUM!”
As I walked down the busy sidewalk with my wife, knowing I was late for Mass my eyes fell upon one of those unfortunate ragged vagabonds that are found in every city these days.
Some people turned to stare. Others quickly looked away as if the sight would somehow contaminate them. Recalling my old pastor, Father Mike, who always admonished me to “care for the sick, feed the hungry and clothe the naked”, I was moved by some powerful inner urge to reach out to this unfortunate person.
Wearing what can only be described as rags, carrying her treasured worldly possessions in two plastic bags, my heart was touched by this person’s condition.
Yes, where some people saw only rags, I saw a true, hidden beauty.
A small voice inside my head called out, “Reach out . . . reach out . . . and touch this person!”
So I did.
I won’t be at Mass this week.
|Cowboy Joe was telling his fellow cowboys back on the ranch about his first visit to a big-city church. “When I got there, they had me park my old truck in the corral,” Joe began.
“You mean the parking lot,” interrupted Charlie, a more worldly fellow.
“I walked up the trail to the door,” Joe continued.
“The sidewalk to the door,” Charlie corrected him.
“Inside the door, I was met by this dude,” Joe went on.
“That would be the usher,” Charlie explained.
“Well, the usher led me down the chute,” Joe said.
“You mean the aisle,” Charlie said.
“Then, he led me to a stall and told me to sit there,” Joe continued.
“Pew,” Charlie retorted.
“Yeah,” recalled Joe. “That’s what that pretty lady said when I sat down beside her.”
Talk about a loyal dog! This is a sad, but uplifting story of devotion.
Ciccio, a German shepherd, whose owner passed away last year, visits the church every day where her funeral was held patiently waiting for her to return.
Ciccio belonged to Maria Margherita Lochi and had been her faithful companion after she adopted him when she found him abandoned in fields close to her home. Maria would walk to church with Ciccio from her home every day where the priest would allow him to sit patiently by her feet.
Ciccio’s devotion has so impressed villagers that they have adopted him as their own, giving him food and water and letting him sleep in a covered area outside the church.