Tags:
Audiobook
Public Speaking
Jeff Schreve
non-fiction
Script:
I have always been uncomfortable and insecure with public speaking. Now, that's quite an admission for a preacher and someone who speaks for a living, but it's true. Still, the Lord knows how very dependent I am on His strength and help every time I stand up to speak. Back in college, however, I hadn't yet experienced God's grace and enabling in this area of my life, and my fear was intense. My idea had been to tiptoe into public speaking a little at a time during my four years of college at the University of Texas. However, the college department director at our church in Austin had other ideas. Everett Sheffey meant to throw me into the deep end and see if I could swim. Everett chose me to be the student leader one year, which meant doing opening announcements every Sunday morning in front of a couple of hundred students. Horrors! To make matters worse, he wouldn't take my emphatic, no, for an answer. My big debut was in January 1982 at the beginning of the spring semester. Wouldn't you know it, the place was packed. My friend and former student leader and announcement guy, Sean, was visiting that Sunday. He'd done a marvelous job as a leader, and I admired him greatly. Beth, a really sweet girl who knew I was nervous about speaking, was also in the audience that day. That morning she had given me a scripture to encourage my heart and calm my fears. Have I not commanded you, be strong and courageous. Do not tremble or be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go. I was clinging to that verse as I reviewed the announcements I would share that morning. How nervous was I? Believe it or not, I could actually see the end of my tie bouncing up and down on my shirt in rhythm with my racing heart. Sean walked by as I was reviewing the announcements, and I told him about the verse Beth had shared with me to help me with my nerves. He smiled and said, You'll be fine. When the time came to start, I walked to the front to address the crowd. My voice wasn't shaking as I began, which was a small victory right out of the chute. My first little joke even worked, and I got people to laugh. It was going to be okay. I felt confidence seeping into my bones. Suddenly, out of the blue, Sean stood up and interrupted me. Shreve, he said, you're doing it all wrong. You haven't even greeted the visitors yet, and you are so nervous. Have I not commanded you, be strong and courageous. Do not tremble or be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go. I couldn't believe he was using my verse against me. The place erupted with laughter. Nearly all the students thought Sean's standing up to gig me was hysterical and in good fun. Everyone was laughing, except me. The crushing blow came when Sean good-naturedly said, Shreve, go sit down. I'll take over from here. As I walked to the back of the room amid the laughter, it was all I could do not to burst into tears. My worst fears had been realized. I was embarrassed beyond belief, and my insecurity about public speaking was racing to the moon. I wanted to crawl into a hole and hide. My self-worth was on fire, and the flames were intense.
Tags:
Audiobook
Script:
As a twelve-year-old boy coming home from Glendover Elementary School on the last day of school, my mind was racing faster than my skinny legs could churn. Once at home, inside my room, I got down to business. I looked around at the walls of my bedroom. One wall lined with hot-rod cars I had drawn. Another lined with neat shelves holding down dozens of model cars I had built. In a corner was my most prized possession. A copy of the official Master Modelers Club quarterly magazine for members only. One issue contained a drawing of a car I had submitted, and they had published it, and there below the drawing was my name, in print. A real magazine with my creation and my byline. I had done it. I drew it. I sent it. And they liked it. I fed on the sense of accomplishment, of doing something that was published that would last for a long time. It was a feeling that later sparked a career in ad copy and design. With the whole summer before me, my mind began to think through the possibilities. I thought how I didn't want to get to the end of the summer and have nothing to show for it. So I took out a piece of paper and began a list, a to-do list, goals for the summer. I carefully thought through all the things I'd been wanting to do. The cars to draw, the books to read, the things to build, the places to go, the things to learn more about. All the things I wanted to be able to say, I did it, by the end of the summer. Looking back on it now, no wonder I became a nerdy kid. I could have flat been doing nothing because it's summertime and that's okay. But even at such a wide-eyed age, I had this drive inside me to do things, to accomplish, to publish, to finish. I was a doer. It's the American way, although really it's basic human nature. We're a people of doers. We build. We write. We plant. We drive. We compute. We entertain. We design. We explore. We work. And we play hard. We just do it. What you do determines where you get in life, how nice your cars are, what school you graduate from, and what status goes on your Facebook page. When you meet someone, especially if you're a man, what's the first question that comes out of your mouth? What do you do? We want to quickly size up someone based on his or her occupation. We are defined by what we do. The first thing I did when I was a 19-year-old Christian was to make a to-do list of my sins that I needed to stop doing, and I began working my way down this list. Stop smoking pot? Check. Stop drinking? Check. Stop looking at women? Okay, still working on that one. Start reading my Bible daily? Check. Start having a daily quiet time? Check. Start sharing my faith? Check. Before you know it, I was fitting in pretty well at the church where I had learned that the key to the Christian life could be summed up in one word, do. After all, you had the Ten Commandments, the ultimate to-do list. All I needed to do was to focus on the to-do list and not forget to enlist the help of the Holy Trinity. I think I've got this figured out, but I have a confession to make. Hi, my name is Larry, and I'm a recovering legalist. From Larry Thompson, know, be, do.
Tags:
Audiobook
Friendship
Transformed
Script:
I want you to see something remarkable. There is a link between how we interact with the world and how we think. In fact, we see the world not so much for the way it is, but for the way our thinking is. The structure of your mind is a result of the many things that you've interacted with over time that have created your worldview. Your belief system has been shaped by the different life experiences you've had. These have created a lens through which you see the world. Sometimes, maybe all the time, we complain about what people are broadcasting or protesting or screaming about and that they're influencing us negatively. But there is a point in life where it's not so much what others are broadcasting or protesting, but rather what we choose to tune into that matters. You are responsible for the things you give your attention to. The restructuring of your mind is your own responsibility. You'll have to choose what you allow to shape your thinking. In my youth, I was rough and tumble, and the word kind was never used to describe me. But when I chose to walk away from that and stepped into a library and through great books began to engage with great minds and hearts, I started to look at the world in a new way. But most importantly, I started looking at myself differently. I decided to regulate the channels I'd be tuning into and what my mind became, my life eventually followed. We don't restructure our minds by not putting in anything negative, though by all means, avoid that. It's rather that we replace old thinking with new thinking, like those who wanna get off a particular substance. It's usually only effective if you replace that substance with something else. Because you created an appetite for something negative, you ought to replace it with something less harmful. But hear me, there was something else I had to change that helped me work through my life and make it what it is striving to be today. I learned that I could determine the direction of my life by simply assessing the quality of my conversations. Actually, this statement is more about friendship than conversations, so let me make the point more clear. Since friendship determines, to a large extent, the direction of our lives, I submit to you that we can determine the quality of our friendships by assessing the quality of our conversations with our friends. Our lives tend to move towards the things we most talk about, and that's why I challenge you to make a list of friends, pick four friends, and think about the things you most talk about with them. That's surely the direction your life will take. It's not a secret that I'm a Christian, so please allow me to read something from the Bible that sums up all this in a simple and profound verse. It's found in Romans chapter 12, verse two, and it says this, "'Do not be conformed to this world, "'but be transformed by the complete renewal of your mind, "'that by testing you may discern what is the will of God, "'what is good and acceptable and perfect.'"
Tags:
Audiobook
Historical
Kilmeade
Andrew Jackson
Script:
Andrew Jackson, The Miracle at New Orleans A few hours later, Jackson awoke in the darkness. The time was one o'clock, and he heard footsteps in the hall. Who's there? The sentry had admitted a courier with a message from Commodore Patterson. Colonel, the previous day, standing on the shore opposite the Velary Plantation, Commodore had seen enemy forces loading cannons in the barges. He takes a nervous, deep breath. Colonel, he thinks his West Bank position's gonna be their target. He wants you to send some reinforcements to the opposite side of the river, just in case the British attack there. Anxious and impatient, the general required only a moment to consider the matter before turning Patterson down. Time is too short for more men to reach Patterson. Patterson barked. He had already dispatched four hundred Kentuckians to reinforce Patterson and Brigadier General Morgan, the Louisiana militiaman posted with him. And nothing persuaded Jackson that the major attack would be anywhere but on his side of the Mississippi. I have no men to spare. Patterson and Morgan are on their own, he told the messenger. Jackson had no idea of the misstep he had just made, but he was uninterested in going back to sleep. Turning, he addressed the aides around him. Gentlemen, rise. We have slept enough. The enemy will be upon us in just a moment. They would, indeed. And not only in the way Jackson expected.
Tags:
Audiobook
Fiction Audiobook
False Assurances
Script:
My name is Ben Porter. I'm twenty-seven years old and I work for the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Cool, huh? I'm guessing you're thinking, Yep, I know the type. G-man, clean-shaven with a crew cut, a trim, athletic build, a sharp navy blue suit, and a pressed white shirt, striped tie, aviator sunglasses, a fed. No, not exactly. It usually goes like this. I'm at a bar hanging out with my friends. I meet someone new and they say, What do you do for a living? I work for the FBI, I tell them. They cock their heads a little, they gaze wavers as they access the view in front of them. They ask, Oh really? Are you an agent? I've gotten used to that. Everyone automatically assumes that if you work for the FBI, you're an agent, out undercover running drug busts or investigating nefarious criminal acts backed up by high-tech data centers and black helicopters. It's the glamour life they see on TV shows and in the movies. Don't they realize the FBI is a huge organization? 35,000 people work for the Bureau. And we're not all agents. So I tell that new person, No, I'm not an agent. I'm an information management specialist. I try to say it importantly, as if I'm capitalizing the words as I say them. It rarely impresses. Either you're an agent and you're cool or you're a whatever. And if you're a whatever, you're clearly just a cog in the machine, a secretary or a coffee maker or a mailroom clerk or an information management specialist. No caps. It's like people assume there's nothing between an agent and a mailroom clerk. I know I sound a little bitter. I wanted to be an agent, but the training is really extensive and it takes really a long time. Honestly, I didn't think that I could pass the fitness training test at the FBI Academy in Quantico, Virginia. And I realized that the administrative staff positions didn't require a 21-week trip to Quantico. I'm pretty good with computers and I've never done anything remotely interesting, so passing the background check was easy. I bet the agents reading my FD-140, that's the exhaustive personal information form we all had to fill out, fell asleep halfway through the paperwork. And truth be told, I'm not exactly the physical specimen that you might have pictured. I'm not the worst-looking person in the world. It's not like I'm some sort of troll creature living in the shadows. But I'm a little overweight, not very tall, and I'm missing the chiseled features of a proper G-man. Well, since we're being honest, maybe I'm a tad more than a little overweight. But I'm not fat. Let's be clear about that. Let's go with, uh, husky. Yeah, that's right, husky. Thank goodness for Lasix, otherwise I'd be in real trouble in the looks department. With my poor eyesight requiring thick glasses but my round face limiting my frame choices, I could never find glasses that fit me well and looked good on me. Naturally, I tried contact lenses. My eyes became a bloodshot mess. I looked like a husky werewolf. It was awful. So, my first big splurge after I had saved enough money from my FBI salary was not a cool car or an average house with a nice hardwood floor, but Lasix surgery. In fact, right after the procedure, I bought some nice sneakers and joined a gym. Figured I'd get in shape, finally. That lasted a couple of weeks. Turns out the gym is hard work. Working at the FBI is real hard.
Tags:
Audiobook
Pastoral
Devotional
Michael Milton
Small Things Big Things
Script:
The book you're listening to is a collection of little episodes written by a pastor to his people. They're each connected with spiritual things, most often scriptural subjects, but they're not devotionals. They are, I think, something else. Once upon a time there was a wise mother who asked her two children as she tucked them into bed at night, "'Where did you find God today?' The children, after a while of this, understood what their mother meant by these words that others, even adults, might find cryptic. One night her six-year-old boy said, "'Mama, I found God when I fell down in the backyard and looked up and saw a cloud that looked like Uncle Purvis's nose.' The mother smiled and said, "'Very good.' To her nine-year-old girl she asked, "'How about you?' And the daughter, wiser and more comfortable with her mother's game, said, "'Mama, I saw God now when you smiled out of the corner of your mouth, the way you do when you're satisfied with us.' "'Good,' the mother replied. "'Then you know that he's with us.'" She would read a scripture, pray, tuck the children into bed, and turn out the light. In a real way, that is what these little pieces are. They are attempts by a pastor to help his congregation to discover God's presence in the midst of their everyday lives. These theological reflections are my questions, embedded in stories and reflections and devotional thoughts that are merely seeking to inquire. Children, where did you find God today? Then before they could answer, and in order that I might stir them to answer in their own way, I would seek to say, like that excited child, "'I found him here!' I did this so they would know that God is with us. I want them to know this in their minds and in their hearts, because as we travel through life together, we travel like sheep down steep, narrow passageways that creep dangerously high alongside mountain ridges. The shepherd is there to calm the flock. I've sought to do what the wise mother did with her questions. I really wanted my flock, Jesus' flock entrusted to me, to know that God is with us. Then we could move on and read his word and pray and find our protection and our best nourishment as we looked up to see the true shepherd in our midst. I hope in these pages you too will begin to appreciate the goodness and grace of the God who comes to us in clouds that look like Uncle Purpose's nose. We're assured in the Bible that if we seek him, we will find him. These little chapters from a pastor's heart are here to nudge you to do just that. They're here to lead you to ask your own questions, make your own discoveries, which you will, and travel from discovering his grace in your own everyday life to discovering his grace in the unique life of Jesus of Nazareth. And when you say, aha, I saw him, he'll say to you, my child, you've seen because I revealed myself to you. And that is the greatest discovery of all.
Tags:
audiobook
BY HIS OWN BLOOD
DRAMA
SUICIDE
Montandon
Script:
Edna, would you iron my khakis?" Henry was up earlier than usual that Saturday morning in late December, 1947. "'Are you going somewhere, Henry?" Grandma asked. "'No, just want to put on some press clothes today,' he said. He stood at the back screen door, staring out at the windmill through bare Paradise tree limbs. He paid no attention to the few cows that saundered up from the mesquite pasture down by the river. "'Here's your shirt and breeches,' Grandma said." Henry didn't respond. Something wasn't right, she thought. Henry walked slowly into the kitchen and sat down at the table. He had on his freshly ironed clothes, along with polished dress shoes. Henry picked at the food, eating little of his breakfast. Usually he was a big eater, and this made Grandma real nervous. "'Are you not feeling all right today, Henry?' "'I'm fine.' He sat there a few more minutes, then got up and went into the front bedroom. Grandma cleaned up the table and put the dishes in the sink. Once in the bedroom, Henry slowly opened the closet door. He stood there, staring at the hanging clothes, then reached in and pulled out the twelve-gauge shotgun he had made. His hands shook. His mind went numb. He chambered the powerful shell. He placed the short barrel in his mouth, and he pulled the trigger. "'Henry!' she screamed, running into the bedroom. "'Dear God!' Henry was lying on the floor. Blood was spattered over the walls and ceiling. She screamed and ran into the backyard, waving her arms and shouting, "'Stop! Please!' The driver, Carl Durham, saw her right away. He was a neighbor friend who farmed a couple of miles away. "'Carl! Help me!' "'What in the world is wrong, Edna? Calm down. What's happened?' "'Henry shot himself! Henry killed himself!' "'Oh, my God, Edna! Oh, no! No! You poor woman! Here, let's get you in the pick-up. I'll take you over to my house where Maggie can be with you.' Grandma babbled to herself and to Carl, trying to make sense out of what had just happened. "'He wanted his caggies ironed. He looked real handsome!' Carl got them to his house in just a few minutes. On the way, Grandma Edna told them what happened. Devastated, they made their way inside where Maggie, Carl's wife, was told the horrific news. Around ten o'clock he got to our family's new Rhineland farmhouse, as Daddy was on his way to feed the cows down at the barn. "'Doc, I have some really bad news for you and Mary Lee,' Carl said as he rushed over to meet Daddy just outside the house. "'What is it, Carl?' He could tell by the look on Carl's face that it was terrible. Henry killed himself, shot himself dead. "'What on earth?' Daddy stood there stunned. "'Doc, Henry killed himself this morning about seven o'clock. Come on in the house, Carl. You look awful. I know it's hard on you to have to come tell us this bad news. "'Mary Lee's gonna take this real hard. I can tell you that. This is gonna cause a lot of anguish. They were real, real close.' "'Maybe you better be the one to break the news to her, Doc,' Carl pleaded. As they walked toward the back porch, they could see Mama standing at the back door. She sensed something dreadful was going on. "'What is it, Doc?' she screamed. "'What's wrong?' "'Mama, it's Henry. He's gone.' "'Oh, no! What on earth happened, Carl?' Daddy broke the tragic news reaching for her as she struggled to run back into the house, but he grabbed her and held her real tight. He was crying now. Carl was too and hugged them both. They stood there, weeping together.
Tags:
Audiobook
Business
Non-Fiction
Script:
Imagine what a dismal place the planet would be if no one had ever had a big idea. We'd still be naked savages communicating with grunts and groans, seeking shelter under upended tree roots, and scavenging for scraps of food. Thankfully, one of our ancestors thought big and wrapped himself in animal skins to ward off the elements. Another thought big and constructed a primitive shelter. Well, another thought big and decided to stay put and cultivate a crop, rather than roam and forage with the seasons. Millions of years later, Ralph Lauren thought big, stitched a logo on those animal skins, and founded Polo, a fashion empire with six billion in annual revenues. And the list, of course, goes on and on and on. Evidence of thinking big is present in every successful human enterprise. But big thinking without proper execution inevitably results in failure. We found that companies that excel at achieving consistent, long-term financial performances usually fall only into one of three possible categories. One, think small, act small. The enterprises that fall into this category are either small mom-and-pop businesses, companies where the sole ambition is to provide a living wage to the owners, or enterprises desperately trying to hold on to a vestige of a better past. They're unwilling to invest in their businesses, and either because of necessity or a basic character flaw, they're notoriously cheap. Two, think big, act big. Everyone is familiar with this type, armed with a deliciously big idea. They start out on a promising track, and then something happens that sends them over to the dark side. First, there are the sizzling suites of offices filled with snappy young execs, kowtowing assistants, and an increasingly bloated hierarchy. There's more swagger than walk, and eventually strategy is trumped by arrogance. People who think big and act big are dangerous to workers. They'll lose their jobs when the big cheese begins announcing layoffs. Vendors who may not get paid without the approval of bankruptcy court, and shareholders whose investments may very well disappear in smoke. Three, think big, act small. These are the people and companies who get it right. Their consistent long-term financial performance distinguishes them. Their big thinking is based on authentic, big ideas, genuinely solving customers' problems, making something better, or creating value. Rather than allowing success to go to their heads, they remain humble. They're ready to let go of what is no longer working, get everyone to think and act like owners, and constantly invent new businesses, providing customers with win-win solutions. And their biggest thrill is identifying and helping build future leaders. People and companies who think big and act small are good for workers, vendors and suppliers, and shareholders and community. Go ahead and think big. But when it comes to executing your ideas, follow the principles of thinking big and acting small, as practiced by the companies who grow their customer count and satisfaction, revenues and profits year after year in good times and bad. Hey, let's get started.
