Inspirational and Evangelical Short Stories of Faith for Adults E-Book

Christian Stahl

• Herausgeber: Midealuck Publishing
• Kategorie: Religion und Spiritualität
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2020

Beschreibung

This collection of 30 short stories from around the world show everyday folk in the past and present, discovering unexpected sweetness in the midst of sour circumstances when faith prevails. These stories are funny, others sobering, and more than a few will bring tears of amazement. While most of these short stories have a humorous core, some are historical, with a few based on real historical events. For those who are yet to discover faith, or want to deepen their understanding of it, this collection of short stories is a perfect place to start.

Contemporary readers will enjoy these stories as they delve into the idea that parables are not just about faith, but also about us and relate to situations of everyday life. Christian Stahl offers a fresh, timely reinterpretation of Jesus and faith narratives; the author also shares tender and hilarious real-life moments that capture the important truths of everyday life, with faith and inspiration as the focal point. One thing that can be guaranteed for this collection is that each and every story will leave the reader contemplating the complex manner of faith and how it plays a part in their current life situation.

 

Leseprobe

Inspirational and Evangelical

Short Stories

of Faith for Adults

Christian Stahl

© Copyright 2020 by Christian Stahl - All rights reserved

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Details of all the author's available books and upcoming titles can be found at:

www.shortstoycollections.com

 

Contents

Foreword

The Busy CEO

The Girl and the Note

The Man of My Dreams

Living Alone in Modern Times

Almost in Paradise

The Law Instructor of Jericho

Living in Nature

The Incredulous Psychiatrist

The Girl from the Salvation Army

The Loving Husband

The Evil Double Life

The Dying Veteran

The Old Bridge

The True Story of Friar Max Kolbe

The Emperor's Gifts

Puppies for Sale

The Future Kingdom of Peace

The Horseman

The Major

A Strange Dream

The Boulder

The Preacher and the Atheist

Our Old Town When Times Were Bad and Money Scarce

God's Wonderful Way

The True Story of the Evangelist Richard Baxter

I Met Her in the Opera

The Painter

Cafe Lisbon

The London Marathon

Endless Love on a Dream Vacation

My Name is Lazarus - A Classic Tale

Different Heavens According to Peter

 

30 Inspirational and Evangelical

Short Stories of Faith for Adults

Foreword

This book is devoted to all who appreciate Christian stories and faith narrative. This collection of 35 short stories includes modern as well as classical tales, all written to inspire and give hope to those who are suffering. The spirit of help, hope and faith can be found everywhere and can be instilled in anyone throughout their life. Learning about faith is the first step towards using it as guidance in all real-life circumstances. Jesus shows himself to those who are seeking his guidance, spirit and manifestation in their own way; it is the stories that have been accumulated for 2000 years that help people achieve this spirit.

Mostly humour centered, some with historical backgrounds related to classic tales, and a few based on real historical events, this international collection of short stories will leave the reader entertained and inspired.The collection also contains a selection of true short stories, like the retelling of friar Max Kolbe and the old tale of Lazarus. The collection is also an attempt to take inspiration from classic Christian events, resulting in an execution of biblical approaches in modern stories adapted to the current times. As a whole the book provides a teaching of faith that is informative while also remaining light-hearted with the use of comedic elements.

The Busy CEO

A young and successful manager drove his Jaguar a little too fast through a suburban street. He was on the watch out for children who might run into the street between the cars parked along the side of the road. He reduced his speed when he thought he noticed movement. However, when his car passed the spot in question, no child appeared. Instead, a brick crashed into the Jaguar's driver's door! He screeched to a stop and reversed the Jaguar to where the brick had been thrown.

The angry driver jumped out of the car, grabbed the first child he saw there, pushed him against a parked car and yelled, "What were you thinking and who are you? What on earth is this? This is a brand new car and that brick you just threw there will cost you a lot of money. Why did you do that?"

The little boy said apologetically, "Please, Mr... please, I'm sorry, but I didn't know what else to do. I threw the stone because nobody else would stop..."

As tears ran down his face and dripped from his chin, the boy pointed to a spot behind a parked car. "That's my brother," he said. "He rolled over the curb and fell out of his wheelchair, and I can't pick him up on my own." Meanwhile, the boy, sobbing heavily, asked the astonished manager, "Could you please help me put him back in his wheelchair? He’s injured, and he’s too heavy for me to carry."

Deeply moved, the driver tried to swallow the lump that was rapidly rising in his throat. He immediately lifted the disabled boy back into his wheelchair and then pulled out a linen handkerchief to dab off the fresh scratches and cuts. A quick glance told him that everything would soon be fine.

"Thank you, and God bless you," said the grateful child to the stranger.

Too shaken for words, the man simply watched as the boy pushed his wheelchair-bound brother down the sidewalk.

It was a long, slow walk back to his Jaguar. The damage was clearly visible. However, the driver never had the dented side door repaired. He left the dent there as a constant reminder of its message.

Don't rush through life so fast that someone has to throw a brick at you to get your attention!

God whispers to our soul and speaks to our heart. Sometimes, when we don't have time to listen, he has to throw a brick at us. It's our choice whether we listen or not.

The Girl and the Note

I feel the wind brushing past the tip of my nose and try to concentrate on my breathing. A few seconds later, I feel better and even a bit cooler. The breathing exercise has, it seems, also reduced my sweating, and now I can enjoy my surroundings even more. I sit on the park bench under a big, shady chestnut tree and enjoy every little breeze that blows around my ears on this warm summery day.

Our village is located in a rural Christian community where there are still old statues in parks and occasional crosses in front of the church and a few houses.

What a different environment this is from my workplace in the nearby town where I work part-time in a cubic office as a customer service representative.

It feels great sitting under the trees, the birds are singing, and I have traded headphones and long pants for a t-shirt and Bermuda shorts... I deserve time out to relax in nature.

While my gaze wanders, I notice a little girl on the other side of the park path. She looks sad and is wearing strange, old-fashioned braids. The two braids hang heavily over her shoulders.

She comes closer and seems not to notice anyone around her.

As she passes me, I hear a whisper, but can hardly understand what she is saying. It sounds like she's practising an apology under her breath.

I wonder if she had trouble at school and is now dragging herself grudgingly home. Or maybe she had a fight with a schoolmate... and now she's sorry.

My gaze follows the girl, and suddenly I notice that an old man has sat down on the bench next to me.

"Good afternoon," he greets me in a friendly way. His face is very appealing.

He leans his walking stick against the trash can next to the bench and folds his rough hands without adding another word.

For minutes, only the rustling leaves of the gnarled tree can be heard, accompanied by the chirping of the birds.

Strange, the little girl kneels to pray before an old wooden cross which I had never noticed before in this park,... and the man next to me is praying as if the world around him did not exist.

The silence is eerie, as is the situation, and I’m sitting right in the middle of it.

"Her name's Barbara," my bench mate says in a croaky voice.

"Do you know that girl?"

"Yes and no, but if you wish, I'd be happy to tell you our story. However, now I have to go over there and do my job."

With a smile, the old man leans on the stick and shuffles, step by step over to the inconspicuous wooden cross. No doubt people no longer notice it except the man and the girl, although hundreds of people pass by every day.

The girl, Barbara, has already left when the old man bends to the ground in pain and seems to pick up something.

How weird.

Curiosity gets the better of me, and I want to hear the old man's reasons. He turns around and is approaching me again.

With a groan of exhaustion, he sits down and is holding a handful of colorful pieces of paper.

Again his shaky fingers fold up tightly after reading the child's handwriting. While he prays, he presses the little pieces of paper in his palm.

"We don't know each other personally, but we do have someone in common," the old man finally says. "During the summer months, I occasionally work in the city, and I was out and about here in the village park collecting the garbage, which the occasional day tourist leaves around. You have to know that my wife Linda died a short time ago ... it was hard to say goodbye, even if it probably won't be long before we see each other again..."

The old man breathes heavily, pauses for a moment.

"See, we are believers, and won’t be separated for long, as I too will go home to my Lord rather sooner than later. Anyway, I've had a lot of grief recently."

He pauses, almost seems to fall asleep and then continues. "Often, in the evenings, when my work was done, I used to sit here on this bench, looking for peace, comfort and meaning. I could no longer bear staying at home where it was quiet and lonely without my Linda. For forty-seven years, we shared every moment, the good and the dark times, but together we had each other and our faith.

On one of these last evenings, I felt especially sad, because it was Linda's birthday. So, I sat here and asked God to help me with my grief. I also requested to be allowed to come to him soon. But then Barbara came. She cried, sobbed so loudly I thought a catastrophe of some sort had happened to her. I could truly feel her pain, her desperate grief, although, at that time, I did not know what the reason was. I needed a moment of silence. I closed my eyes for a few seconds and asked God what I could do for these two suffering beings, and then, it hit me, I knew. I had suddenly found a task I would carry out from then on. However, I didn't speak to the girl because I didn't want to scare her. I was and am a stranger to her. But I tried to show her how Jesus listens to her prayers and how undeniably he loves her."

He turns around to look at me with eyes full of sadness. "Since that night, she and I have been here about the same time every day."

"What does she write on the colored pieces of paper? I don't quite understand."

My old bench neighbor smiles at me and lays his hand on mine before he starts to explain.

"Yes, there's a lot you can't understand right away. You're still young...but let me tell you, on these notes Barbara writes down everything that concerns her. Her fears, her worries, her mistakes and the quarrels she has with other children. So, when Barbara took off, she left the notes on the cross after a prayer, and I later picked them up. Seeing these notes took all her worries away. In a way, she knew about Jesus and had asked Him for help, guidance and sometimes for forgiveness. Those notes seemed childish, but her faith was real, her hope in Jesus paid off because she came here with all her worries and left them here in the park. But there is something more. Since that evening, I take the little one into my prayers. Sometimes we even pray together and yet each in our way even though we are only a few metres apart. We both pray to him who forgives guilt, dries tears and gives joy."

While I ponder in amazement and try to fathom what I have heard, the old man offers a mysterious smile.

"Barbara still comes here often and does the same thing, because who can say today, at this time, if life will be easy?

Sometimes, when she walks, she smiles and hops like a bird that has just lost its load and has learned to fly again...and you, young friend, do you know who helps them?"

Without one more word, he pulls a purple note out of his jacket pocket and writes in shaky letters,

All the guilt is Jesus. For you, you are free. For I have loved you forever and ever' says God to you.

He drags himself slowly back to the cross, puts the note under a stone and says goodbye with a friendly smile as he walks past the bench once more.

The Man of My Dreams

It was an ordinary morning. Almost compulsively, through a rather long habit,she started the day with a thought of helping others, followed by a short prayer.

Everything was going, as usual, that day. she experienced no creeping depressions, no unforeseen, emerging joy, nothing unusual. No lottery wins, no promotion, no bad news, such as the sentence, Cancer, have you heard?

Everything was going along fine until he entered her house. She asked him to sit in the living room, but he wanted to sit in the kitchen. She was not prepared for visitors, so it took a little while before she got used to his presence.

He was in no hurry. His eyes, his ears, his heart rested. The silence seemed familiar to him. Then he began to speak the words her spirit had hungered and thirsted for so many years.

"You know, I love looking at you. And honestly, you smell like heaven, I feel like your future home when I'm near you. I enjoy your presence so much."