Angel's Poet
   
My Son
 
An Hour of Life

My heart jumped with joy........

As my son was born........

I saw a dove come upon him.......

giving him the breath of life.......

he will be called Michael......

named after an angel of the Lord......

an hour later.......

silence.......

falling limp was my son's body......

Michael!! Michael!! Michael!!

frantically trying to safe him.......

dying and gasping for air......

I saw a crow come upon him......

taking from him the breath of life......

my heart jumped with sorrow.....

tears as numerous as the stars......

persisting to hold on to my son......

three dawns later......

standing over the grave......

I looked up to heaven......

I saw a little boy.......

his face was shining like the sun.......

he said to me in sign language,

"Hi Daddy".


Written By,
Al Nick
 
Our Wedding Day
The Completed Life


My life was a fragment? love was hard to understand? pain was easy to comprehend? broken hearts exceeded my count? enough tears wept filled a pail? falling stars never granted my wishes? days and nights changed into years? fantasy land became a grave yard? numerous nights watching crescent moons? every morning I wake up with empty dreams? angels brought my prayers to God for an answer to love, a wholly life and the omega of pain? angels returned empty handed? one morning an angel brought me a message from God? I woke up to a dream too good to be true? I saw someone? I understood love? pain ceased to exist? my heart mended? a falling star granted my wish? the grave yard became heaven? you slid a ring on my finger and spoke in an heavenly voice saying ?I do?... my life once a fragment now complete? numerous nights watching a full moon then turn to my side and kissed the love of my life and whispered, ?I love you?.
Written By,
Al Nick
 
Jesus, does He exist?
At the University of Chicago Divinity School each year they have what
is called "Baptist Day". It is a day when all the Baptists in the
area are invited to the school because they want the Baptist dollars
to keep coming in.


On this day each one is to bring a lunch to be eaten outdoors in a
grassy picnic area. Every "Baptist Day" the school would invite one
of the greatest minds to lecture in the theological education centre.

One year they invited Dr. Paul Tillich. Dr. Tillich spoke for two and
one-half hours proving that the resurrection of Jesus was false.

He quoted scholar after scholar and book after book. He concluded
that since there was no such thing as the historical resurrection the
religious tradition of the church was groundless, emotional
mumbo-jumbo, because it was based on a relationship with a risen
Jesus, who, in fact, never rose from the dead in any literal sense.

He then asked if there were any questions.

After about 30 seconds, an old, dark skinned preacher with a head of
short-cropped, woolly white hair stood up in the back of the auditorium.


"Docta Tillich, I got one question", he said as all eyes turned toward
him. He reached into his sack lunch and pulled out an apple and began eating it.

"Docta Tillich . . . CRUNCH, MUNCH My question is a simple
question, CRUNCH, MUNCH. . . Now, I ain't never read them books
you read. . . CRUNCH, MUNCH. . . and I can't recite the Scriptures
in the original Greek CRUNCH, MUNCH . . . I don't know nothin'
about Niebuhr and Heidegger" . . . CRUNCH, MUNCH. . . He
finished the apple.

"All I wanna know is: This apple I just ate,------was it bitter or sweet?"


Dr. Tillich paused for a moment and answered in exemplary scholarly
fashion: "I cannot possibly answer that question, for I haven't tasted
your apple. "


The white-haired preacher dropped the core of his apple into his
crumpled paper bag, looked up at Dr. Tillich and said calmly,
"Neither have you tasted my Jesus. "

The 1,000 plus in attendance could not contain themselves. The
auditorium erupted with applause and cheers. Dr. Tillich thanked his
audience and promptly left the platform.
 
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