The rich man laughed and said, “Don’t think of others. Whatever I have given to you is it not enough?” They said, “It is more than enough, but it is injustice. Why are these people getting when they have just come?”

The rich man said, “I give them because I have got too much, out of my abundance I give them. You need not be worried about this. You have got more than you expected so don’t compare. I am not giving them because of their work, I am giving them because I have got too much… out of my abundance.”

Jesus said some work very hard to achieve the divine, some come just in the afternoon and some when the sun is setting, and they all get the same divine. Those who had come in the morning must object: “this is too much!”

You just see: you have been meditating so much and suddenly someone comes just at evening and becomes enlightened. And you have been such a great ascetic. Just look: if all the ascetics reach and see that sinners are sitting just by the side of the throne of God, what will happen? They will become so sad: “What is happening?- these sinners never disciplined their lives, they never worked and they are here; and we were thinking they would be in hell!” There is no hell; there cannot be. How can hell exist? Out of God’s abundance everything is heaven. It should be so, it must be so, it has to be so. Out of his abundance is heaven, there can be no hell. Hell was created by these ascetics because they cannot conceive of sinners in heaven. They have to make compartments; they cannot think that you will be there.

Osho – “A Bird on the Wing”

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One night he dreams that by the grace of Allah, he has reached Paradise. And the whole of Paradise is decorated, millions of lights.and flowers everywhere — some celebration is going on — and great music. He enquires, “What is going on?”

And they say, “This is God’s birthday — we are celebrating it. You have come at the right time.”

So he stands underneath a tree to see what is happening, because a great procession starts moving on the road. A man is sitting on a horse; he enquires, “Who is this man?” and they say, “Don’t you know him? He is Hajrat Mohammed.”

And then millions and millions of people behind him, and he asks, “Who are these people?” and he is replied to. “They are Mohammedans, followers of Mohammed.”

And then comes Jesus, and millions are following him. And then comes Krishna on his golden chariot, and millions again are following him. And so on and so forth… the procession continues, continues, continues.

And then finally, in the end, on an old donkey an old man is coming. And nobody is behind him; he is just alone. Farid starts laughing looking at this man — it is hilarious: nobody following him. And why should he be going on his donkey? He asks, “Who are you, sir? I have seen Mohammed, Christ, Krishna, Mahavira, Buddha — who are you? You look like a kind of joke! And nobody following you.”

And the old man is very sad and he says, “Yes, I am God. This is my birthday. But some people have become Mohammedans, some have become Christians, some have become Jews, some have become Hindus — nobody is left to be with me.”

Just out of shock, Farid woke up. He told his disciples the next day, “Now I am no more a Mohammedan. The dream has been a great revelation. Now I am no more part of any organized religion — I am simply myself. I would like to be with God, at least one person following him.”

Osho – Fish in the Sea is not thirsty

If you liked this story, you'll love these ten spiritual parables and stories! They're some of our community's favorites.

The post To Be With God – A Spiritual Story by Osho appeared first on Spiritual Growth Events.

He lived cowering, not daring even to speak. If he didn't speak people laughed, if he spoke people laughed. If he did something people laughed, if he didn't do anything people laughed. A monk came to the village.

That night the fool fell at the monk's feet and said, “Give me some blessing. is my whole life to be spent shrinking and cowering like this? Will I die a blithering idiot? Is there no way I can become a little intelligent?”

The monk said, “There is a way. Follow this sutra: condemn everything.”

He said, “What will happen through condemning?”

The monk said, “You do it for seven days then come again to me.”

The fool asked, “How should I condemn?”

The monk said, “Whatever anyone says make a negative statement. For instance if someone says look what a beautiful sun is coming out, you say “what's beautiful about it? Prove it. Where is the beauty? What beauty? It comes out everyday, it has been coming out for billions of years. It is a globe of fire — what beauty?”

“If someone says look Jesus' words are so lovely, you immediately jump on him saying ‘what is so lovely in them? What is so special about them? What's new in them? The same thing has always been said, it is all thrashed over. It is all stale, all borrowed.' You just deny. Someone says looking at a beautiful woman, ‘what a beautiful woman.' You say: ‘what of it? So what if her nose is a little longer? So what if her skin is a little whiter? Lepers are white too. What beauty? Prove it.' You demand proof from everyone and remember to always remain in the negative. Put them in the positive, you remain in the negative. Come to me after seven days.”

After seven days when the idiot came, he did not come alone, many had become his disciples. They came on ahead. They had hung flower garlands around his neck. A band was playing. He said to the monk, “The device worked. The whole village was forced to be silent. Wherever I went people lowered their heads. The news spread among the people that I am a great genius. No one could win against me. Now what should I do?”

He said, “Now don't do anything, just remain with this. If you want to save your intellect never fall into the positive. If someone speaks of God then immediately bring in atheism. Whatever is said, always make a negative statement. No one will be able to defeat you because to disprove a negative statement is very difficult. To prove a positive statement is very difficult.”

From Osho – Death is Divine

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Jesus was sitting on the bank of a river. He must have fallen deep in thought: “If I tell them to stone her to death, it will be violence.” Then what will happen to Jesus' principle of love? “And if I say no, pardon her, people will be angry. People will say you are speaking against our ancient religion, you are repudiating our ancient scriptures.”

In reality that is what people wanted. The people had come just to stone Jesus with these stones if he said to pardon her, because he is speaking in opposition to our religious scriptures. And if he says to stone her, we will kill this woman and then say to Jesus: “What happened to your love? To your compassion? Where has your compassion gone? Where has your love gone? It was all phony talk.”

But they did not know what Jesus will answer. Jesus said the ancient scriptures are right. They must be right. Take up stones and kill this woman – but let only those throw stones who have never committed adultery nor who have ever even thought of committing adultery.

And the five who had stood before the villagers, probably all mayors and members of the municipal committee, quickly retreated into the crowd.

Who wants trouble?

The whole village knew. Everyone's mischief was known. And if they hadn't committed adultery they certainly had thought of it. To find a man who has not thought of adultery is difficult, one who has not been infatuated, who has not been attracted.

All quietly moved back. Slowly slowly the people who had come with stones in their hands let the stones fall where they stood. And slowly slowly people began to disappear.

Evening was falling, the sun was setting. Just as the sun set and it started getting dark, people escaped from there. The woman was left behind, alone. The woman put her head at Jesus' feet and said, “Give me whatsoever punishment you want. I am an adulteress. I accept it. I am a sinner. And your compassion has overwhelmed my heart. Whatsoever punishment you want to give…”

Jesus said, “Who am I to mete out punishments? Who am I to stand between you and your God? You know, you know what you need to do, and your God knows. I am not going to make any judgment. If you feel you have done something bad, then don't do it any more. And if it feels alright to you then continue. The one to decide is God. The final decision will be between you and God. There is no intermediary. Go now.”

Consider what he is saying. A famous statement of Jesus is: “Resist not evil.” Not even evil!

Why?

If God is allowing it to happen, there must be some reason. Wake up within, live within. But the true thread of life emerges in you.

From Osho – Death is Divine.

The post Resist Not Evil – A Christian Spiritual Story by Osho appeared first on Spiritual Growth Events.

The idea surprises me. We are chatting in one of the few bars in Los Angeles. John is a firefighter, and today is his day off.

“Why do you say that?” I ask.

“Because I have experienced the same torment here on earth. I enter buildings in flames, see desperate people trying to get out and have often risked my life to save them. I am just a particle in this immense universe, forced to act like a hero in the middle of fire and despair. If I, who am no one of importance, can manage to act in this way, imagine what Jesus can do! For sure, some of His apostles are infiltrated in Hell, saving souls.”

Paulo Coelho is a Brazilian author who has sold more than 100 million books, which include 14 short story collections and the novel “The Alchemist.”

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At the end of the line stood an older man. His clothes were filthy and you could tell that he had not bathed in days. His face was covered with whiskers, for he had not shaved for a very long time. When he reached the usher, he removed his tattered old brown hat in respect. His hair was long, dirty, and a tangled mess. He had no shoes on his feet, and wore only soiled black socks to cover the sores upon his feet. The Usher looked at him turning up his nose at the old man and said, Uh, I'm sorry sir, but I'm afraid we can't let you in. You will distract the congregation and we don't allow anyone to disrupt our service. I'm afraid you'll have to leave.

The old man looked down at himself and with a puzzled look on his face, he placed his old brown hat back upon his head and turned to leave. He was sad as he loved to hear the choir sing praises to the Lord. He loved to watch the little children get up in front of the church to sing their little songs. He carried in his pocket a small worn out Bible and loved to see if the minister preached a passage from the Bible that he had underlined. But he was respectful, and didn't want to cause any commotion, so he hung down his head and walked back down the steps of the big brick church.

He sat down on the brick wall near the edge of the church yard and strained to listen through closed doors and windows to the singing going on in the church. Oh how he wished he could be inside with all the others.

A few minutes had passed by when all of a sudden a younger man came up behind him and sat down near him. He asked the old man what he was doing? He answered, I was going to go to church today, but they thought I was to filthy, my clothes to old and worn, and they were afraid I would disrupt their service.

Sorry, I didn't introduce myself. My name is George. The two men shook hands, and George couldn't help but notice that this man had long hair like his. He wore a piece of cloth draped over his body tied with a royal purple sash. He had sandals on his feet, now covered with dust and dirt.

The stranger touched George's shoulder, and said: George, don't feel bad because they won't let you in. My name is Jesus, and I've been trying to get into this same church for years — they won't let me in either.

The author of this spiritual story is unknown and greatly appreciated. If you know who wrote this, or can provide a source that I can cite then please contact me and let me know!

Also, if you decide to reprint this story on your website, you do not need to include this author biography box… please just link back to http://www.Spiritual-Short-Stories.com

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“A father, his son, and a friend of his son were sailing off the Pacific Coast,” he began, “when a fast approaching storm blocked any attempt to get back to shore. The waves were so high, that even though the father was an experienced sailor, he could not keep the boat upright, and the three were swept into the ocean.”

The old man hesitated for a moment, making eye contact with two teenagers who were, for the first time since the service began, looking somewhat interested in his story. He continued, “Grabbing a rescue line, the father had to make the most excruciating decision of his life….to which boy he would throw the other end of the line. He only had seconds to make the decision.”

“The father knew that his son was a Christian, and he also knew that his son's friend was not. The agony of his decision could not be matched by the torrent of waves. As the father yelled out, ‘I love you, son!'”

“He threw the line to his son's friend. By the time he pulled the friend back to the capsized boat, his son had disappeared beyond the raging swells into the black of night. His body was never recovered.”

By this time, the two teenagers were sitting straighter in the pew, waiting for the next words to come out of the old man's mouth.

“The father,” he continued, “knew his son would step into eternity with Jesus, and he could not bear the thought of his son's friend stepping into an eternity without Jesus. Therefore, he sacrificed his son. How great is the love of God that He should do the same for us.”

With that, the old man turned and sat back down in his chair as silence filled the room.

Within minutes after the service ended, the two teenagers were at the old man's side.

“That was a nice story, politely started one of the boys, but I don't think it was very realistic for a father to give up his son's life in hopes that the other boy would become a Christian.”

“Well, you've got a point there,” the old man replied, glancing down at his worn Bible. A big smile broadened his narrow face, and he once again looked up at the boys and said, “It sure isn't very realistic, is it? But I'm standing here today to tell you that THAT story gives me a glimpse of what it must have been like for God to give up His Son for me.”

“You see….I was the son's friend.”

Special thanks to Malladi for submitting this spiritual story!

The author of this spiritual story is unknown and greatly appreciated. If you know who wrote this, or can provide a source that I can cite then please contact me and let me know!

Also, if you decide to reprint this story on your website, you do not need to include this author biography box… please just link back to http://www.Spiritual-Short-Stories.com

The post The Tormented Father And A Painful Choice appeared first on Spiritual Growth Events.

You do not know what you ask, he said, but he told them the Word.

Soon after, the group was walking in a deserted place when they saw a heap of whitened bones. Let us try out the Word, they said to each other, and they did.

The moment the Word was pronounced, the bones became clothed with flesh and transformed into a wild beast, which tore them to shreds.

– Rumi

This story is from Stories of the Spirit, Stories of the Heart by Christina Feldman and Jack Kornfield.

The post Word of Jesus appeared first on Spiritual Growth Events.

Well, we tossed the idea about for a few minutes then the train reached the terminus. Once in Central Station we made our way through the masses of travellers towards the exit. The last thing I expected was to have my question put to the test almost immediately.

My wife tugged at my sleeve.

“Look.” She pointed to a bank of pay phones against the far wall where a hunched, elderly lady was checking every change return slot. Looking at her many layers of ragged clothing and shoes held together with tape my wife commented,

“She's probably wearing everything she owns. And what she isn't wearing is probably in the plastic bag she's carrying.”

I turned against the tide of people and stood for a moment, watching her. Having found no forgotten change this woman, who had to be in her seventies, headed for the newsagent's shop.

She was so small I doubt the sales assistant ever saw her amongst the genuine customers. She picked up a magazine of two and “accidentally” shook out the advertising leaflets and free TV guides. She picked these up off the floor and tucked them into one of her many cardigans. I could only guess they might be insulation to help her through a cold night.

By now I was feeling like something of a voyeur. It was time to move on. I had seen poor people before. On the streets of Glasgow that night I would probably walk past a dozen professional beggars. But I couldn't walk away.

Once again the woman made her way, all but unnoticed, through the crowd. Her next stop was the photo booth, where she pressed the coin return button a few times.

When she came out I was standing in front of her. Now, I'm a fairly big man so I don't blame her for being startled when I said, “Find anything?” But there was something more in her expression. She didn't seem to think I was police, or security, or railway staff, she just seemed totally confused by the fact that someone was paying attention to her.

“Here.” I held out some money.

She smiled, tried for a few seconds to speak but she seemed to have forgotten how. Then she mouthed the words, “Thank you.”

Stunned and scared I stepped back into the crowd. By the time I reached my wife again my tears were flowing freely.

Minutes before I had been questioning other folk's Christianity. Now I had been tested. If Jesus had been in that old lady I might not have recognised him. Si, instead, he sent a messenger, someone I certainly would recognise. In that deeply lined face and those watery blue eyes I had seen my own dearly loved, long departed Granny.

In another life when I still had a child's innocence I had fixed her fence, brought coal for her fire, anything to see Granny smile. And in that face I had seen proof that, decades after her death, by caring for someone else, I had made her happy again.

We were on our way to the theatre, to see Jesus Christ Superstar, but I confess I only saw about half of it the rest was blurred by tears of happiness.

This story was written by David McLaughlan.

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