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One day Francis d'Assisi said to one of the young men of the
monastery, "Brother, let us go down to the town and preach." The
novice, greatly delighted and proud of being asked to be Francis' companion,
quickly accepted the invitation. They went down the principle streets of the
town, the side streets and alleys, and then returned by another route to the
monastery. The younger man, thinking that Francis had forgotten his
purpose in going to the city, said, "You have forgotten, that we went down
to the town to preach." The older man replied, "My son, we have
preached. We were preaching while
we were walking. We have been seen
by many; our behavior has been closely watched; it was thus that we preached our
morning sermon. It is of no use, my
son, to walk anywhere to preach unless we preach everywhere as we walk."
One day the devil was crossing the African desert when he came
across a group of demons who were tempting a hermit.
They tried him with the seductions of the flesh, all to no avail, then
they began to sow doubts and fear in his mind, but the holy man stood firm.
As a last resort they surrounded him with creature comforts and told him
that his austerities were only a waste of time.
But the hermit would not be moved.
The devil stepped forward and drew his assistants aside.
He told them their methods would never succeed.
"Just watch me," he said.
Coming up to the hermit he said, "Have you heard the news?
Your brother has been made Bishop of Alexandria."
The fable says that on hearing this, a scowl of malignant jealousy
clouded the serene face of the holy man. --James A. Feehan, Story Power!
(San Jose, CA: Resource Publications, Inc, 1994) 50-51
One morning in 1888 Alfred
Noble, inventor or dynamite, awoke to read his own obituary.
The obituary was printed as a result of a simple journalistic error.
You see, it was Alfred's brother that had died and the reporter
carelessly reported the death of the wrong brother.
Any man would be
disturbed under the circumstances, but to Alfred the shock was overwhelming
because he saw himself as the world saw him.
The "Dynamite King," the great industrialist who had made an
immense fortune from explosives. This,
as far as the general public was concerned, was the entire purpose of Alfred's
life. None of this true intentions to break down the barriers that
separated men and ideas for peace were recognized or give serious consideration.
He was simply a merchant of death. And
for that alone would he be remembered.
As he read the
obituary with horror, he resolved to make clear to the world the true meaning
and purpose of his life. This could
be done through the final disposition of his fortune.
His last will and testament would be an expression of his life's ideals
and ultimately would be why we would remember him.
The result was the most valuable of prizes given to those who had done
the most for the cause of world peace. It
is called today the "Noble Peace Prize."
You may think you
are kind, thoughtful, gracious. But what if today you read your own obituary? - Pulpit
Helps, March, 1992, p. 6.
One of the secrets of life is
to make stepping stones out of stumbling blocks. - Jack Penn
One of the things that impresses me is that when Abraham Lincoln
went off to the Black Hawk War he was a captain and, through no fault of his
own, when he returned he was a private. That brought an end to his military
career.
Then his little shop in a country village "winked out" as he
used to say, marking his failure as a businessman.
As a lawyer in Springfield, Illinois, he was too impractical, too
unpolished, too temperamental to be a success.
Turning to politics he was defeated in his campaign for the legislature,
defeated in his first attempt to be nominated for Congress, defeated in his
application to be Commissioner of the General Land Office, defeated in the
Senatorial election of 1854, defeated in his aspirations for the Vice Presidency
in 1856, defeated again in the Senatorial election of 1858.
Then in 1861, over 100 years ago, found him in the White House as
President of the United States. How
did Lincoln interpret this strange succession of failures and frustrations which
finally culminated in terrific personal victory?
He said, "That the Almighty directly intervenes in human affairs is
one of the plainest statements in the Bible.
I have had so many evidences of His direction, so many instances when I
have been controlled by some other power than my own will that I have no doubt
that this power comes from above."
God knows what is good for us better than we ourselves.
Let us not make the mistake of judging God's overall plan for our lives
by that portion which happened to be revealed today.
God has all eternity in which to bring His plans to fulfillment for our
lives. Think not in terms of today, but in terms of eternity.
After all, that's where we'll spend most of our life. --William Summerour
One of the toughest tasks a
church faces is choosing a good minister. A
member of an official board undergoing this painful process finally lost
patience. He'd just witnessed the
Pastoral Relations Committee reject applicant after applicant for some minor
fault -- real or imagined. It was time for a bit of soul-searching on the part
of the committee. So he stood up
and read this letter purporting to be from another applicant.
"Gentlemen:
Understanding your pulpit is vacant, I should like to apply for the position.
I have many qualifications. I've
been a preacher with much success and also have had some success as a writer.
Some say I'm a good organizer. I've been a leader most places I've been.
"I'm over 50 years of age and have never preached in one place for more
than three years. In some places, I have left town after my work caused riots
and disturbances. I must admit I
have been in jail three or four times, but not because of any real wrongdoing.
"My health is not too good, though I still accomplish a great deal.
The churches I have preached in have been small, though located in
several large cities. "I've not gotten along well with religious leaders in
the towns where I have preached. In
fact, some have threatened me, and even attacked me physically. I am not too
good at keeping records. I have
been known to forget whom I have baptized. "However, if you can use me, I
promise to do my best for you."
The board member
turned to the committee and said, "Well, what do you think?
Shall we call him?" The good church folks were appalled!
Consider a sickly, trouble-making, absent-minded ex-jailbird?
Was the board member crazy? Who
signed the application? Who had
such colossal nerve? The board member eyed them all keenly before he replied,
"It's signed, 'The Apostle Paul.'"
One wintry day Hawthorne, the American author, went home with a
heavy heart, having lost his government appointment. He cast himself down, as
men generally do under such circumstances, and assumed the very attitude of
despondency. His wife soon discovered the cause of his distress. But instead of
indulging in irrational hysterics, she kindled a bright fire, brought pen, ink,
and paper, and then, lovingly laying her hand on his shoulder, exclaimed, as she
gazed cheerfully in his face, "Now you can write your book."
The word wrought like a magic spell. He set to work, forgot his loss,
wrote his book, made his reputation, and amassed a fortune. God fearing women,
go and do like wise! -- W. J. Acomb
Only the rightful king or ruler
can issue a pardon. In Sir Walter Scott's "Ivanhoe," the story is told
of Richard the Lionhearted coming in disguise, upon a sheriff and his men who
were about to execute a prisoner. Reining in his horse and raising his hand,
Richard exclaimed, "Hold! I spare that man's life." But his very act
of mercy revealed his identity, for instantly the man recognized that this one,
with authority to pardon, must be none other than Richard himself.
Who is He that
forgiveth sins? It is the Coequal
with the Father. --Sunday School Times
Professor Beare of the Presbyterian College, Montreal, points out
(in The Presbyterian Record) that the last word of our Lord on the cross, "tetelestai,"
"it is finished," is properly so translated in John 19:30, yet that
this word "tetelestai" is found repeatedly in tax receipts in the
sense of "paid." The word "tetelestai," on a papyrus tax
receipt, is the exact equivalent of an English rubber stamp, "Received
Payment." I wonder if the man of those days would not be apt to take the
word on the lips of Jesus also as meaning "It is paid," the account is
settled, the debt is wiped out, the Redeemer of mankind has paid the price of
redemption." --Sunday School Times
Patricia West has a rare blood type. She was constantly being
asked to donate blood by her local blood bank. Patricia eventually moved from
her home state of Florida to Michigan. There she underwent simple surgery. But
while in surgery, she began to hemorrhage. A call went out for blood, but none
was to be found. In all of Michigan, there was no blood of Patricia's type to be
found. A desperate call was sent to the National Rare Donor Registry. Soon they
responded that they had found the needed blood in Florida. the only compatible
blood available was Patricia's own that she had donated several months before.
Patricia West lives today because she gave her own blood. Her willingness to
give her blood to save others literally saved her own life. --C. W. Bass
Patty the milkmaid was going to
market carrying her milk in a pail on her head.
As she went along she began calculating what she would do with the money
she would get for the milk. "I'll
buy some fowls from farmer Brown," said she, "and they will lay eggs
each morning, which I will sell to the parson's wife.
With the money that I get from the sale of these eggs I'll buy myself a
new dress and hat; and when I go to market, won't all the young men come up and
speak to me! Polly Shaw will be
that jealous; but I don't care. I
shall just look at her and toss my head like this.
As she spoke she tossed her head back, the pail fell off it, and all the
milk was spilled. So she had to go
home and tell her mother what had occurred.
"Ah, my
child," said the mother,
"Do not count
your chickens before they are hatched."
Presumption is
often folly!
Pierre Hurlat, they tell us, was the keenest eyed gunner in
France, and by his thrift he had saved enough money to buy a little cottage in
the village of Severs, just at the foot of the bridge. It was a thing of beauty,
all covered over with honeysuckle, and Pierre was looking forward to the time
when he could spend his last days with his wife in the little cottage, which was
now all his own. Then came the Franco-Prussian War, and Pierre was needed.
The Germans were in possession of the village, and Pierre was standing by
his gun on the heights of Valeria, and as General Neil came along, he said:
"Pierre, do you see that little cottage at the foot of the bridge?" A
cold sweat came over the brave old gunner. "Well," said General Neil,
"that cottage is a nest of Germans, and I want you to train your gun: on it
and see what you can do." All of the old skill of the eye and the nerve
were there as the brave old man pointed the yawning embrasure of his gun toward
the little house.
There was a smoke and a roar, and the General cried: "Fine aim,
Pierre; it's demolished." But as he looked at the old man, he saw his face
was covered with tears and he said: "Why, Pierre, what's the matter:"
"Ah, General," said the old gunner, "it was my own house."
Oh, my friend, today bring out your Isaac; come with the best and dearest
thing, and let God have His way with you and see if the place of sacrifice does
not become the very gate of Heaven to your soul. --William E. Biederwolf
Polycarp (69-155), one of the early church fathers, was put on
trial because of his faith in Christ. When
the Roman proconsul told him to deny his faith, Polycarp answered, "For 86
years I have served Him, and He has never wronged me.
How can I blaspheme my King, who has saved me?"
The proconsul then threatened to cast him in with the wild beasts, but
Polycarp answered, "Call them!" He
was then warned that he might be burned at the stake.
Even that failed to move him. He
responded, "You threaten me with fire which burns for only a moment, but
you are ignorant of the fire reserved for the ungodly."
These are Polycarp's final words: "O
Father of Thy beloved and blessed Son, Jesus Christ!
I bless Thee that Thou has counted me worthy of this day, and of this
hour, to receive my portion in the number of the martyrs, in the cup of
Christ."
With a timid voice and
idolizing eyes, the little boy greeted his father as he returned from work,
"Daddy, how much do you make an hour?"
Greatly surprised,
but giving his boy a glaring look, the father said: "Look, son, not even
your mother knows that". "Don't bother me now, I'm tired."
"But Daddy,
just tell me please! How much do you make an hour, the boy insisted.
The father, finally giving up, replied: "Twenty dollars per hour."
Okay, Daddy? Could
you loan me ten dollars?" the boy asked. Showing his restlessness and
positively disturbed, the father yelled: "So that was the reason you asked
how much I earn, right? Go to sleep and don't bother me anymore!"
It was already
dark and the father was meditating on what he said and Was feeling guilty? Maybe
he thought, his son wanted to buy something. Finally, trying to ease his mind,
the father went to his son's room.
"Are you
asleep, son?" asked the father.
"No, Daddy.
Why?" replied the boy, partially asleep.
"Here's the
money you asked for earlier, " the father said.
"Thanks,
Daddy!" rejoiced the son, while putting his hand under his pillow and
removing some money. "Now I have enough!! Now I have twenty dollars!"
the boy said to his father, who was gazing at his son, confused at what his son
had just said. "Daddy, could you sell me one hour of your time?"
Quarreling between her two sons
prompted the mother to rush to the kitchen. Eight year old Bobby and four year
old Jackie were having a tug of war with the cookie jar.
Only once cookie remained in the jar, and each boy thought it was his.
Taking the cookie jar from the two youngsters, their mother calmly announced.
"I'll solve the problem for you.
I'll eat the last cookie myself." The boys looked up at their mother
in unbelief. Then the four year
old, with a mischievous grin on his face said, "Oh, no you won't, Mom.
Whoever heard of a selfish mother?"
Queen Victoria, after hearing one of her chaplains preach at
Windsor on the second coming of Christ, said: "Oh, how I wish that the Lord
would come during my lifetime." "Why does your majesty feel this very
earnest desire?" asked the preacher. With her countenance illuminated by
deep emotion, the Queen replied, "Because I should so love to lay my crown
at His feet." -- Rev. G. P. Eckman
Question: There are three things God cannot do. What are
they?
He can't lie
He can't hate the
sinner
He can't love sin
--BETTY MCKNIGHT
Radio personality Paul Harvey
tells the story of how an Eskimo kills a wolf. The account is grisly, yet it
offers fresh insight into the consuming, self-destructive nature of sin.
"First, the
Eskimo coats his knife blade with animal blood and allows it to freeze. Then he
adds another layer of blood, and another, until the blade is completely
concealed by frozen blood. "Next, the hunter fixes his knife in the ground
with the blade up. When a wolf follows his sensitive nose to the source of the
scent and discovers the bait, he licks it, tasting the fresh frozen blood. He
begins to lick faster, more and more vigorously, lapping the blade until the
keen edge is bare. Feverishly now, harder and harder the wolf licks the blade in
the arctic night. So great becomes his craving for blood that the wolf does not
notice the razor-sharp sting of the naked blade on his own tongue, nor does he
recognize the instant at which his insatiable thirst is being satisfied by his
OWN warm blood. His carnivorous appetite just craves more--until the dawn finds
him dead in the snow!"
It is a fearful
thing that people can be "consumed by their own lusts." Only God's
grace keeps us from the wolf's fate. -- Chris T. Zwingelberg
Recently we put up a hummingbird feeder with four feeding
stations. Almost immediately it became popular with the hummingbirds that live
in our area. Two, three, or even
four birds would feed at one time. We refilled the feeder at least once a day. Suddenly the usage decreased to almost nothing. The feeder
needed filling only about once a week.
The reason for the decreased usage soon became apparent. A male bird had
taken over the feeder as his property. He
is now the only hummingbird who uses our feeder.
He feeds and then sits in a nearby tree, rising to attack any bird that
approaches his feeder. Guard duty occupies his every waking hour.
He is an effective guard. The only time another bird gets to use the
feeder is when the self-appointed owner is momentarily gone to chase away an
intruder.
We soon realized that the hummingbird was teaching us a valuable lesson.
By choosing to assume ownership of the feeder, he is forfeiting his freedom.
He is no longer free to come and go as he wished.
He is tied to the work of guarding his feeder. He is possessed by his
possession. His freedom of action
is as circumscribed as if he were in a cage. He is caged by a situation he has
created. -- W. L. Barnes
Sociology professor Anthony Campolo recalls a deeply moving
incident that happened in a Christian junior high camp where he served.
One of the campers, a boy with spastic paralysis, was the object of
heartless ridicule. When he would
ask a question, the boys would deliberately answer in a halting, mimicking way.
One night his cabin group chose him to lead the devotions before the entire
camp. It was one more effort to have some "fun" at his expense.
Unashamedly the spastic boy stood up, and in his strained, slurred manner
-- each word coming with enormous effort -- he said simply, "Jesus loves me
-- and I love Jesus!" That was all. Conviction
fell upon those junior-highers. Many
began to cry. Revival gripped the
camp. Years afterward, Campolo
still meets men in the ministry who came to Christ because of that testimony.
Sheldon Van Auken in his
excellent book Severe Mercy has a piece that says, "The best argument for
Christianity is Christians -- their joy, their certainty, their completeness. But the strongest argument against Christianity is also
Christians -- when they're self-righteous and smug in complacent consecration.
When they're narrow and repressive, then Christianity dies a thousand
deaths."
Shortly before the sermon, the
deacons took up the offering. When they passed the minister's wife, she placed a
scribbled note on top of the plate. It said simply, "KISS, Betty."
After the service
a deacon went to the minister and remarked, "How nice of your wife to
remind you of her love just before the sermon."
"Well,
actually," said the minister, "that note was a coded message. What it
meant was 'K.I.S.S. - Keep It Short Sweetheart!'"
Sir Samuel Baker relates the following incident: "Many years
ago, when the Egyptian troops first conquered Nubia, a regiment was destroyed by
thirst in crossing the Nubian desert. The men, being upon a limited allowance of
water, suffered from extreme thirst; and, deceived by the appearance of a mirage
that exactly resembled a beautiful lake, they insisted on being taken to its
banks by the Arab guide. It was in vain that the guide assured them that the
lake was unreal, and he refused to lose the precious time by wandering from his
course. Words led to blows, and he was killed by the soldiers, whose lives
depended upon his guidance.
The whole regiment turned from the track and rushed toward the welcome
waters. Thirsty and faint, over the burning sands they hurried; heavier and
heavier their footsteps became; hotter and hotter their breath as deeper they
pushed into the desert, farther and farther from the lost track, where the pilot
lay in his blood. Still the mocking spirits of the desert, the affects of the
mirage, led them on, and the lake glistening in the sunshine, tempted them to
bathe in its cool waters, close to their eyes, but never at their lips.
At length the delusion vanished -- the fatal lake had turned to burning
sand! Raging thirst and horrible despair! The pathless desert and the murdered
guide! Lost! Lost! All lost! Not a man ever left the desert, but they were
subsequently discovered--parched and withered corpses--by the Arabs sent upon
the search."
Sir Walter Raleigh once made a request of the Queen, and she
petulantly answered, "Raleigh, when will you leave off begging?"
Walter replied, "When your Majesty leaves off giving." His request was
granted. But the God of all grace never grows weary of our asking, and never
rebukes us for coming. --Henry W. Frost
Sir Walter Scott had difficulty with the idea of "turning the
other cheek." But Jesus' words
took on special meaning one day when Scott threw a rock at a stray dog to chase
it away. His aim was straighter and
his delivery stronger than he had intended, for he hit the animal and broke its
leg. Instead of running off, the dog limped over to him and licked his hand.
Sir Walter never forgot that touching response. He said, "That dog
preached the Sermon on the Mount to me as few ministers have ever presented
it." Scott said he had not
found human beings so ready to forgive their enemies.
Recently I read a fable about a dog who loved to chase other
animals. He bragged about his great
running skill and said he could catch anything.
Well, it wasn't long until his boastful claims were put to the test by a
certain rabbit. With ease the
little creature outran his barking pursuer.
The other animals, watching with glee, began to laugh.
The dog excused himself, however, by saying, "You forget, I was only
running for fun. He was running for
his life!"
That does make a difference! Motivation
is the most important factor in everything we do.
Some of us relate to the
Charlie Brown cartoon that shows Linus dragging his blanket as he observes,
"You look kinda depressed, Charlie Brown."
"I worry about school a lot."
Then he adds, "I worry about my worrying so much about school."
As they sit on a log together, Charlie makes his final observation-
"My anxieties have anxieties."
Stephen Brown explains that when a group of thoroughbred horses
face attack, they stand in a circle facing each other and, with their back legs,
kick out at the enemy. Donkeys do
just the opposite; they face the enemy and kick each other! How often the church
does just that -- ignoring the real enemy while we attack fellow believers.
Stephen Hawking is an
astrophysicist at Cambridge University and perhaps the most intelligent man on
earth. He has advanced the general theory of relativity farther than any person
since Albert Einstein. Unfortunately, Hawking is afflicted with ALS Syndrome
(Lou Gehrig's disease). It will eventually take his life. He has been confined
to a wheelchair for years, where he can do little more than sit and think.
Hawking has lost the ability even to speak, and now he communicates by means of
a computer that is operated from the tiniest movement of his fingertips.
Quoting from an
Omni magazine article: "He is too weak to write, feed himself, comb his
hair, fix his glasses--all this must be done for him. Yet this most dependent of
all men has escaped invalid status. His personality shines through the messy
details of his existence."
Hawking said that
before he became ill, he had very little interest in life. He called it a
"pointless existence" resulting from sheer boredom. He drank too much
and did very little work. Then he learned he had ALS Syndrome and was not
expected to live more than two years. The ultimate effect of that diagnosis,
beyond its initial shock, was extremely positive.
He claimed to have been happier after he was afflicted than before. How
can that be understood? Hawking provided the answer.
"When one's
expectations are reduced to zero," he said, "one really appreciates
everything that one does have." Stated another way: contentment in life is
determined in part by what a person anticipates from it. To a man like Hawking
who thought he would soon die quickly, everything takes on meaning--a sunrise or
a walk in a park or the laughter of children."
Teddy Stallard certainly qualified as "one of the
least." Disinterested in
school. Musty, wrinkled clothes;
hair never combed. One of those
kids in school with a deadpan face, expressionless - sort of a glassy, unfocused
stare. When Miss Thompson spoke to
Teddy, he always answered in monosyllables. Unattractive, unmotivated, and distant, he was just plain hard
to like. Even though his teacher
said she loved all in her class the same, down inside she wasn't being
completely truthful.
Whenever she marked Teddy's papers, she got a certain perverse pleasure
out of putting X's next to the wrong answers, and when she put the F's at the
top of the papers, she always did it with a flair.
She should have known better; she had Teddy's records and she knew more
about him than she wanted to admit. The
records read:
1st Grade: Teddy shows
promise with his work and attitude, but poor home situation
2nd Grade: Teddy could do
better. Mother is seriously ill.
He receives little help at home.
3rd Grade: Teddy is a good
boy but too serious. He is a slow
learner. His mother died this year.
4th Grade: Teddy is very
slow, but well-behaved. His father
shows no interest.
Christmas came, and the boys and girls in Miss Thompson's class brought
her Christmas presents. They piled
their presents on her desk and crowded around to watch her open them.
Among the presents there was one from Teddy Stallard.
She was surprised that he had brought her a gift, but he had.
Teddy's gift was wrapped in brown paper and was held together with Scotch
tape. On the paper were written the
simple words, "For Miss Thompson from
Teddy." When she opened
Teddy's present, out fell a gaudy rhinestone bracelet, with half the stones
missing, and a bottle of cheap perfume.
The other boys and girls began to giggle and smirk over Teddy's gifts,
but Miss Thompson at least had enough sense to silence them by immediately
putting on the bracelet and putting some of the perfume on her wrist.
Holding her wrist up for the other children to smell, she said,
"Doesn't it smell lovely?" And
the children, taking their cue from the teacher, readily agreed with "oohs"
and "ahs."
At the end if the day, when school was over and the other children had
left, Teddy lingered behind. He
slowly came over to her desk and said softly, "Miss Thompson . . . Miss
Thompson, you smell just like my mother . . .
and her bracelet looks real pretty on you, too.
I'm glad you liked my presents."
When Teddy left, Miss Thompson got down on her knees and asked God to
forgive her.
The next day when the children came to school, they were welcomed by a
new teacher. Miss Thompson had become a different person.
She was no longer just a teacher; she had become an agent of God.
She was now a person committed to loving her children and doing things
for them that would live on after her. She
helped all the children, but especially the slow ones, and especially Teddy
Stallard. By the end of that school
year, Teddy showed dramatic improvement. He
had caught up with most of the students and was even ahead of some.
She didn't hear from Teddy for a long time.
Then one day, she received a note that read:
Dear Miss Thompson:
I
wanted you to be the first to know. I
will be graduating second in my class.
Love, Teddy Stallard
Four years later, another note came:
Dear Miss Thompson:
They
just told me I will be graduating first in my class.
I wanted you to be the first to
know. The university has not been
easy, but I liked it.
Love, Teddy Stallard
And four years later:
Dear Miss Thompson:
As
of today, I am Theodore Stallard, M.D. How
about that? I wanted you to be the first to know.
I am getting married next month, the 27th to be exact.
I want you to come and sit where my mother would sit if she were alive.
You are the only family I have now; Dad died last year.
Love, Teddy Stallard
Miss Thompson went to that wedding and sat where Teddy's mother would
have set. She deserved to sit there; she had done something for Teddy
that could never forget.
- Anthony Campolo, Who Switched the Price Tags? (Waco, TX: Word, 1986) 69-72
There once was this turntable
bridge which spanned a large river. During
most of the day, the bridge sat parallel with the tracks, allowing ships to pass
freely on both sides. At certain
times each day a train would come along, and the bridge would be turned sideways
across the river allowing the trains to cross. A switchman sat in a small shack
on one side of the river where he operated the controls to turn the bridge and
lock it into place as the train crossed. One day as the switchman was waiting
for the last train of the day to come, he looked of into the distance through
the dimming twilight and caught sight of the train's light , he stepped to the
controls and waited until the train was within prescribed distance when he was
to turn the bridge into position. To
his horror, he found that the locking control didn't work.
If the bridge was not locked into position, securely, it would wobble
back and forth at the ends when the train came onto it.
This would cause the train to jump the track and go crashing into the
river. It was a passenger train with many people aboard.
He left the bridge turned across the river, and he hurried across the
bridge to the other side where there was a lever he could use to operate the
lock manually.
He could hear the
rumble of the train now. He took
hold of the lever and leaned backward to apply pressure to keep the mechanism
locked. Many lives depended on this
man's strength. Then, coming across
the bridge from the direction of his control shack he heard a sound that made
his blood run cold, "Daddy, where are you?"
His four year old son was crossing the bridge to look for him. His first
impulse was to cry out to the child, "RUN RUN" but the train was too
close, and his tiny legs would never make it across the bridge in time. The man
almost lifted the lever to run and snatch up his son, and carry him to safety,
but he realized he could not get back to the lever in time.
Either people on the train or his son must die.
He took only a
moment to make his decision. The train sped safely and swiftly on it's way, and
no one aboard was aware of the tiny, broken body thrown mercilessly into the
river by the rushing train, nor were they aware of the pitiful figure of a
sobbing man still clinging tightly to the lever long after the train had passed.
They didn't see him walking home more slowly than he had ever walked, to
tell his wife how he had sacrificed her son.
Now if you can
comprehend the feeling that which went through this man's heart you can
understand the feeling of our heavenly Father when He sacrificed His Son to
bridge the gap between us and eternal life.
How does God feel
when we speed along through life without giving a thought to what was done for
us through His Son, Jesus Christ? Can there be any wonder that He
caused the earth to tremble and the skies to darken when His only Son died?
There were once two frogs, a
large fat one and a smaller thinner one. One day they came upon a pail of cream
and hopped in to drink. The cream
was over their heads, but being frogs they swam about drinking the sweet cream.
After they had drunk what they could they discovered that they could not jump
out of the pail. They struggled for several minutes trying to get out. The larger frog didn't see any hope of getting out so he just
gave up, and allowed himself to drown. The
smaller frog wouldn't allow himself to give up and keep kicking and struggling
in an attempt to get out. As he was losing strength he gave what he thought
would be his last kick, and as he kicked as hard as he could the cream turned to
butter. He climbed up onto the butter and hopped out.
In the days of war the Japanese policeman who had absolute power
said that within three days everyone in a certain Formosan mountain village must
come to the police station and swear that he would not be a Christian, or he
would be tied hand and foot, and stones tied to him, and he would be thrown from
the high bridge into the rushing river below. The Christians met at midnight to
decide what to do. Some said, "We'll have to give it up. We cannot be
Christians now. He will surely kill us."
Then a young boy arose. "But don't you remember that Jesus said not
to be afraid of those who can only kill the body, but to be afraid of those who
kill body and soul? If he kills us, it will only be our bodies. Our souls will
go to be with Jesus." They all said, "That's true." When the vote
was taken, every hand was raised--all voted to die. Next day the policeman
laughed cruelly, and said, "Tomorrow you die."
Now the policeman liked to fish, and waded out into the river. A rock or
tree in the current struck his leg and broke it. While the mountain people were
praying, a messenger rushed in, and said, "The man who was to kill you
tomorrow has been drowned in the river." --Child Evangelism
President Franklin D. Roosevelt got tired of smiling that big
smile and saying the usual things at all those White House receptions.
So, one evening he decided to find out whether anybody was paying
attention to what he was saying. As
each person came up to him with extended hand, he flashed that big smile and
said, "I murdered my grandmother this morning." People would
automatically respond with comments such as "How lovely!" or
"Just continue with your great work!"
Nobody listened to what he was saying, except one foreign diplomat. When
the president said, "I murdered my grandmother this morning," the
diplomat responded softly, "I'm sure she had it coming to her."
This is an unpublished incident
in the life of Hudson Taylor. He came to the city of Hangchow. The next day with
a bag of books over his shoulder he started an evangelistic tour of the city.
Great crowds followed him about. At night weary, he sat down to rest at a tea
house in the suburbs on the way to his boat in the river. As he sat at the
table, he saw peering at him though the gathering gloom an elderly Chinese. The
man was evidently seeking someone. "Are you a foreigner?" "Yes, I
am an Englishman." "Are there books in that bag on the table?"
"Yes, there are." "Are you a teacher of a foreign religion?"
"Yes of the Jesus religion."
The Chinese man then told Taylor that he had been an earnest seeker after
truth for many years but could find no religion which could take the burden of
guilt from his soul. A few nights before, he had had a vision: a man in white
had told him to go to Hangchow that he would find there a foreigner sitting in
an inn with a bag of books on the table before him. He had visited the inn but
had found no such person. Finally, hearing of this inn in the suburbs he had as
a last hope come thither. He asked Taylor to tell him the truth, whereupon he
preached the gospel and gave him a New Testament. Two days later, Taylor visited
his house and found he had destroyed all his idols and was rejoicing in Jesus
Christ. Taylor left the man adoring God not only for his power to save, but also
for his marvelous and miraculous ways of leading souls to the messenger and the
message of the gospel. --McCartney |