Bulletin Board Book Quotes

I had thought, in going to Oxford, that what I wanted to do was study books, pin their pages to the bulletin board like a butterfly collector and analyze the patterns in their wings. But I realized—that wasn’t it. And while I feel extraordinarily satisfied when I find the right word for the right occasion, I don’t think my future lies in being an author. No. I don’t want to be the creator or the scientist. I want to be the shepherd, the person who knows books so well that he can help make books even better than they were when they came out of the author’s mind.

Great are the works of the Lord; they are pondered by all who delight in them. —Psalm 111:2 (NIV) The church I attend recently celebrated its 150th anniversary. It’s been a festive year, replete with special dinners, panel discussions, and a book on the church’s history. But what amazed me even more were all the little stories that formed the big story—those quiet, individual witnesses of faith who, taken together, made up this grand sweep of 150 years. One woman has been a member for nearly half the church’s life. Fifty-two Sundays times seven decades is how many church services? “You’ve heard thousands of sermons!” I said. “What do you remember about the best ones?” She smiled. “The best sermons are the ones I think about all week. Because then I know God is working in me.” That simple lesson of faith was the start of a new practice for me. When I hear a phrase or sentence in a sermon that especially strikes me, I’ll write it down on the bulletin or on whatever I have handy. (Once it was the palm of my hand!) Then I pin that phrase to the bulletin board behind my computer. This week’s was: May God give me the grace to understand that the world is too small for anything but Love. I see it every day, reminding me to ponder how I might live that message. Like my friend at church, I’ve been able to see in a new way how God is working in my life—all week long. Guide my life, God, by Your Words; that in hearing them, I may live according to Your wishes. —Jeff Japinga Digging Deeper: Pss 105, 111, 119:18; 1 Pt 2:2

parked, dominated the rest of the street. There was an understated sign over the door that read ALBANIAN CENTER in English, below which were some words in another language, which Lydia brilliantly deduced to be Albanian. Next to the door was a bulletin board behind a glass case containing a picture of Valentina, the date and the time of the service, and a few paragraphs in Albanian. It seemed like a meager memorial for a life to Lydia, who thought, You live a hurricane of emotions, dreams, experiences, hardships; you raise children. Your life seems so important, your problems so consuming, your successes so thrilling. And in the end, your picture winds up on a bulletin board, your life reduced to a snapshot and some kind words on a piece of paper.

In June 1991 he took the drastic step of asking a friend to post PGP on a Usenet bulletin board. PGP is just a piece of software, and so from the bulletin board it could be downloaded by anyone for free. PGP was now loose on the Internet.

Remember now your Creator in the days of your youth, before the difficult days come, and the years draw near when you say, “I have no pleasure in them.” —Ecclesiastes 12:1 (NKJV) I was making rounds at the veterans hospital where I work, when an elderly gentleman in a wheelchair pointed his cane to a sign on a bulletin board. “Look, hon,” he said to his wife, “they’re having an old-fashioned Easter egg hunt on Saturday. It says here that the kids can compete in a bunny-hop sack race for prizes.” He barely came up for air. “Remember when we used to have those Easter egg hunts on our farm? The kids would color eggs at our kitchen table and get dye all over everything.” Just then, his wife noticed the smell of popcorn in the air. Volunteers sell it for a bargain price—fifty cents a sack. The veteran didn’t miss a beat. “Remember when we used to have movie night and you would pop corn? We’ve got to start doing that again, hon. I love popcorn. Movies too.” As I took in this amazingly joyful man, I thought of things I used to be able to do before neurofibromatosis took over my body. It was nothing to run a couple of miles; I walked everywhere. Instead of rejoicing in the past, I too often complain about my restrictions. Rather than marvel how I always used to walk downtown, shopping, I complain about having to use a handicap placard on my car so I can park close to the mall, which I complain about as well. But today, with all my heart, I want to be like that veteran and remember my yesterdays with joy. Help me, dear Lord, to recall the past with pleasure. —Roberta Messner Digging Deeper: Eph 4:29; Phil 2:14

I wrote you a note,” she began, and if he thought he’d felt tension before, he wasn’t too sure he wasn’t about to lose his breakfast after that little announcement. “I didn’t know if your phone worked here, and even if it does, I don’t have the number. Same goes for e-mail. I could have left a message at the inn, but then I might as well have posted it on the bulletin board outside the town hall for the whole world to read.” She lifted a shoulder. “So I thought I’d take a page from your book--a very charming one, I might add,” she said, glancing up at him from the corner of her eye. “But the doors to your car were locked, and I didn’t put it under your windshield wiper for the same reason I didn’t leave a message with Grace.” She let out a little breath. “But I did write you a note. I just wanted to go on record. Because I know what I did with Sadie, and you’re probably thinking--” “I’m thinking that unless you’re about to tell me to bugger off back to Australia and never darken your door again, I’m about to be all those things I promised not to be and kiss you senseless right here on the dock, in front of God, the seagulls, and anyone else who happens to be watching, and damn the consequences.

From the start, I wanted my book to have a ready-made audience of conspiracy theorists and seekers. Now, through the Enoch-synchronicity connection, I came face-to-face with my target audience and their religious manifestos, rambling manuscripts, and crackpot analyses—misspelled and riddled with bad grammar, posted on Facebook, countless websites, blogs, and bulletin boards. In aggregate, my future readers were a community of the lost, the lonely, and the crazy.

Why did you get a divorce? Well, my wife did not greet me on my birthday, my ungrateful brats took after their mother and did not greet me. To make things worse, even my parents forgot my birthday! When I went to work, my colleagues did not greet me (and there is a freaking bulletin board with the birthday celebrant on it) but alas, my kind and sexy secretary greeted me with a smile and invited me for a lunch in her apartment nearby! Of course I felt flattered! At the apartment, she said, I’ll just go to the bedroom for a minute, I got excited and said Okkkaayyy! 3 minutes after, there she was with a huugge cake with my wife, the kids, my proud parents and yes, even my colleagues yelling “SURRRRPRRISSSEEE!” And me? I was waiting on the sofa…. Butt naked….