“About a year ago I was in the auditorium at church and your dad was sitting in his usual seat. I walked down the aisle and spoke to him. ‘How are you doing Brother Nelson?’ I asked. ‘Are you ready for a great morning service?’ ‘You know I am son. Sit down. It’s a while until the service starts. That’s a nice Bible you have there. Isn’t that the one your mother gave you when you and Tom were about 13?’ ‘Yes sir it is.’ I replied. ‘I have had this Bible my entire life,’ ‘It must be a good one’, he said. “Mine’s falling apart.’ “I looked at the worn, frayed book in his hands. The cover was battered from being held by those calloused hands, the edges of the pages were torn from his fingers searching for just the right words. There were stains on the pages, stains that could have been sweat from reading the Word after a hard day’s work or tears from comforting someone in need. As my eyes moved to my Bible sitting on the pew, I thought about why our Bibles were different. Your father taught me a great lesson that day. In his own way he showed me that some people read the Bible and some people just carry it on Sundays.” “Tom, Brother Nelson would be proud of me. I am well on my way to wearing out my first Bible.”
"I say grace before every meal. But most of the time only God and I know it."
"Belief is thinking that a chair will hold you up. Faith is sitting in the chair."
"There is no right way to do the wrong thing."
"Live your life as if it is the only Bible someone will ever read."
"Don’t worry about what other people do. It’s their little red wagon and they are going to have to pull it."
Tomorrow:Nelson and the yellow jackets