It Takes Guts to Say "Jesus"
author unknown
This is a true story of something that happened just a few years ago at U.S.C.
There was a professor of philosophy there who was a deeply committed atheist. His primary goal for one required class was to spend the entire semester attempting to prove that God couldn't exist. His students were always afraid to argue with him because of his impeccable logic. For twenty years, he had taught this class and no one had ever had the courage to go against him. Sure, some had argued in class at times, but no one had ever really gone against him' (you'll see what I mean later).
Nobody would go against him because he had a reputation. At the end of every semester, on the last day, he would say to his class of 300 students, "If there is anyone here who still believes in Jesus, stand up!" In twenty years, no one had ever stood up.
They knew what he was going to do next. He would say, "because anyone who does believe in God is a fool. If God existed, he could stop this piece of chalk from hitting the ground and breaking. Such a simple task to prove that he is God, and yet he can't do it." And every year, he would drop the chalk onto the tile floor of the classroom and it would shatter into a hundred pieces. All of the students could do nothing but stop and stare. Most of the students were convinced that God couldn't exist. Certainly, a number of Christians had slipped through, but for 20 years, they had been too afraid to stand up.
Well, a few years ago, there was a freshman who happened to get enrolled in the class. He was a Christian, and had heard the stories about this professor. He had to take the class because it was one of the required classes for his major and he was afraid. But for 3 months that semester, he prayed every morning that he would have the courage to stand up no matter what the professor said or what the class thought.
Nothing they said or did could ever shatter his faith, he hoped. Finally the day came. The professor said, "If there is anyone here who still believes in God, stand up!" The professor and the class of 300 people looked at him, shocked, as he stood up at the back of the classroom. The professor shouted, "You FOOL!! If God existed, he could keep this piece of chalk from breaking when it hit the ground!" He proceeded to drop the chalk, but as he did, it slipped out of his fingers, off his shirt cuff, onto the pleats of his pants, down his leg, and off his shoe. As it hit the ground, it simply rolled away, unbroken.
The professor's jaw dropped as he stared at the chalk. He looked up at the young man and then ran out of the lecture hall. The young man who had stood up proceeded to walk to the front of the room and share his faith in Jesus for the next half hour. 300 students stayed and listened as he told of God's love for them and of his power through Jesus.
"Yet to all who received HIM, to those who believed in HIS name, HE gave the right to become children
of God-children born not of natural descent, nor of human decision or a husband's will, but born of
God!" But HE knows the way that I take. When HE has tested me, I will come forth as gold."
Job 23:10
Jan's Story
by Gayle D. Erwin
Jan's mother committed suicide when Jan was 12 years old. The date of that death, March 20, haunted her for years. She hated Spring because March 20 was coming. This day became the opposite of a holiday, a day of depression and pain. The loss of her mother revisited itself annually, refusing to let her cope with her grief.
You Must Abort
Marriage helped but did not heal the hurt. Soon a child was on the way in their house, however her body reacted so violently to the pregnancy that she had to seek medical help for that sickness alone. Her doctor declared that this sickness was psychological but that her body was trying to reject the fetus and she should have an abortion.
Unsatisfied with this diagnosis, they went to another doctor who also said this is psychological but she should get an abortion. A third and a fourth doctor gave identical advice. In their discouragement, they began to actually consider that option, painful as it was to them. Her violent sickness continued reducing her hunger and adding to the malnutrition of herself and her baby. They decided to try one more doctor. He examined her more closely and discovered a vitamin B deficiency and gave her a shot. As they left, she told her husband that she was ravenously hungry. They promptly went for a steak. Her sickness was over.
When the baby was delivered, the doctor handed Justin to her and said, "This is the baby that four doctors told you to abort."
Ah, but I am ahead of myself in this story. God had designed this moment for multiple victory. Justin was due in early February. When the day arrived, no indications of birth were forthcoming. Since everything was healthy otherwise, the doctor said, let's just wait. Days and weeks rolled by. Jan fretted that this baby was getting too close to March 20. The last thing she wanted was for the baby to be born on such a day of pain.
Her distress increased until, sure enough, a remarkably six-week-late baby was born to them on March 20. She complained to God and others that this would happen, until she realized that her mourning had now been turned into joy by her newborn. Gone was the pain and grief. God has used this baby, Justin, as a double victory.
Justin has his story, also, but much of it will have to wait. I will clue you into an expectancy. Before long, you will be singing songs written by Justin. Awesome. Just about the time you think you have heard it all, God's Grace shows itself again and I return to the realization that I am a walking mass of ignorance gleefully awaiting His next show of power.
The Keeper of the Spring
author unknown
This story has been attributed to the late Peter Marshall, former chaplain of the United States Senate.
There was once an old man who lived high above an Austrian village along the eastern slopes of the Alps. He had been hired by the village council many years ago to clear away the debris from the pools of water up in the mountain crevices that fed the lovely stream flowing through their village. With faithful, silent regularity, he patrolled the hills, removed the leaves and branches and wiped away the silt that would otherwise choke and contaminate the fresh flow of water. By and by, the village became a popular attraction for visitors. Graceful swans floated along the crystal clear stream; picnickers gathered along its banks; and the view of the water from local shops and cafes was picturesque beyond description.
Years passed. One evening the council met for its semiannual meeting. As they reviewed the budget, they noticed a small amount that was being paid to the "keeper of the spring." The village treasurer asked, "Who is this 'keeper of the spring'? Why do we keep him on the payroll year after year? No one ever sees him. Have any of you ever met this man? For all we know, he is simply taking our money and doing us no good whatsoever. In my opinion, this person is no longer necessary."
Everyone agreed with the treasurer and the council voted unanimously to dismiss the old man.
For several weeks, nothing much changed. The village went about with its business as usual. But by autumn, the trees began to shed their leaves. Small branches snapped off and fell into the pools that fed the stream, hindering the rushing flow of sparkling water. One afternoon, someone noticed a slight yellowish-brown tint in the water. A couple days later the water was much darker. Within another week or two, a slimy film covered sections of the water along the banks and a foul odor was soon detected. The swans left the village, as did the tourists. The economy of the village was in serious peril. Likewise
was the health of the village, as many were getting sick from drinking the water.
An emergency meeting of the village council was held. After much discussion, they realized their error in judgment and they hired back the old "keeper of the spring." And within a few weeks, the beautiful stream came back to life. The swans and visitors gradually returned, as did the vitality and well being of the little village in the Alps.
(From Improving Your Serve by Charles Swindoll, Dallas: Word, 1981)
What the "keeper of the spring" meant to the little village, we Christians mean to the world. Jesus called us "salt," which is to say that we are "preservers" of what is good and true in the world. Like the old man in the mountains, we are called to serve--and to be faithful. We may not get a lot of recognition or appreciation for our efforts, but we have the power to change the world. That's what Jesus wants us to do. He put us here to serve, and in a very real sense, the well-being of the whole world is dependent upon us. We do make a difference!
The "keeper of the spring" had a job which seemed to the village council very insignificant. Yet, when he was no longer around, the entire village suffered. In the same way, we are all important to the church, which is the body of Christ: "The eye cannot say to the hand, 'I don't need you!" And the head cannot say to the feet, 'I don't need you!' On the contrary, those parts of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable--and the parts that we think are less honorable we treat with special honor" (1 Corinthians 12:21-23).
The Land of Christianity
by Pat Worrell
I live in a world of surreallity in the town called Christianity where things can and do happen supernaturally. In our town we have abundance of all things although this is not evident at first glance, things are not always what they seem. We don't get in strife or walk in anything but love here so our faith works better than it does for others in the surrounding towns. If you intend to live here you must learn to love and to live in joy and trust. Let me tell you more about our town.
The best thing about our town is God. Have you met him? The casual observer would compare God to the most loving father and that is true, but he is so much more. The town belongs to him but you would never know it, in fact although many of us have deeds that say we own parts of this spectacular land, we know better, Dad owns it all. God will not push himself on you but if you seek him he will surround you with himself.
Have you ever experienced the power of God? If not, you can't possibly understand the meaning of ecstasy. I suggest you take a hike over to the Holy Hill and spend a few days, it will change your life. Let me forewarn you, the hill at times shakes, lightning flashes, and thunder rolls across the land. At other times the peace and love are so strong that all I can do is sit and weep. No matter what kind of a day it is at the Holy Hill, if you yield to God you will be forever changed. He loves to do most anything that you desire, my favorite is walking on the wind with him. The whispering breezes up there combined with Dad's love are too beautiful to describe. Go on over and spend some time, be sure and let me know what happens, would you?
Many people come here each year and take up residence in our town but few ever settle down permanently. It is not always easy to live here because most of town is over in the land of supernatural and it is not visible. Some never understand the power of the supernatural and many that believe in it are unable to access that power. The law that governs our town is called faith and the place where you can learn about faith is a book called the Bible. Most of the people who come and then leave have not understood faith or meditated the Bible although they do meditate the "natural" things around them. If you want to know what you have faith in look around, you are living in what you believe.
A very simple definition of faith is faith believes things promised in the Bible, invisible things, more that it believes the things we can see. The paradox here is that the things we believe eventually will show up in this world from the supernatural if are patient and hold fast to our beliefs. Sounds simple, doesn't it? It is simple but being the complex beings that we are we have complicated the process, sometimes to the point that I think even God would have a hard time recognizing it from the way he intended it to be. If you find yourself struggling to believe, then you need to relax. Faith should be a rest, a trust.
In the towns around us the residents understand that spiritual forces are at work but many think that they work in some random fashion. Many of these people think God is controlling every aspect of their life. I have never understood this theory and study the Bible as I may, I can't find grounds for believing this way. Here in our town if we have a question about what God would or would not do we study the testament of Jesus. This testament is our inheritance and it is a legal contract. Legal contracts of this sort are binding and will not, can not change. God is not flaky or double minded, God is love and he always keeps his word. We live under the new covenant or New Testament and as we study the Old Testament we see that it points to the new contract Jesus died to give us.
If you intend to live here, I highly encourage you to listen for the voice of the Holy Spirit your every waking moment. He knows everything there ever was and is to know and he is our link to the land of supernatural. I was spending some time with him the other day and he took me to a place of such beauty and depth, I simply could not comprehend it. It was like trying to absorb thousands of sunsets or listen to every symphony ever written all at once. Imagine for a moment the depth of outer space, it was deeper than that. Imagine the brilliance of a galaxy of suns, it was brighter than that. Imagine the holiness of The Holy One, it is all of that and more. I was speechless, I was for that moment pure love.
I was sitting there in symphonic brilliance with this thought, 'where am I?' I watched the thought form in the atmosphere and drift across the sky like a balloon would drift~ free. I heard a voice like no voice I have ever heard say, "if you have a moment I can show you." In an hour or two the voice of my words appeared again in the sky, "please, Lord, show me." Instantly I was standing on a moon in space and above me two worlds were visible. They encompassed most of the sky except for deep space around the edges of the worlds. The planets were barely touching at one point like two huge bubbles attracted to each, a soft kiss. I trembled from the sheer immensity of what was before me, I was humbled and awed. I fell on my face, I could do nothing else.
"Son," called that wondrous voice, "look." I sat up and the worlds above were glowing with Glory. Have you ever seen a Glory Cloud? Look in your spirit, God will show you. My eyes were attracted to the spot where the two objects were touching, the spot was about the size of a speck of dust on the waves of an endless ocean. "That is where you and I are touching. Look, he said, and I looked through the speck into the depth of Him. I looked into perfect clarity, I could see through eons stacked one atop another yet there was no end to be seen. He said, "son, I made you in my image and likeness, your spirit also has great depth" I didn't want to look at my spirit, I was too fascinated with the wonders of Him.
I was transported to a place of heaviness and found myself sitting on air, very comfortable air. Sitting on air in heaviness in the middle of stars as numerous as sand is in the desert. Is this you or me, I asked? Both, He said, as we drifted along. I asked, "why is it so hard, dad?" As I waited for the answer, I explored more of Him and had lost all track of time before I found myself in the middle of this single word.
~Trust~
I meditated on this and then He said, I will do anything, absolutely anything you can find in the book of promise if you trust Me. I looked through time's tunnel at the places we had visited this day and I saw again the tiny speck where we touched and I asked, "how big could that spot be where our spirit's are touching?" A while later I found this thought in my knower. "As big as you are willing to let it be." The thought tumbled almost out of sight before I pulled it back in and filed it where it could be plainly seen.
I looked at all the other things I had filed in plain sight, things I had vowed to pay more attention to and I marveled at my forgetfulness. Some of those things are love, joy, forgiveness, peace, meditation, trust, and those are just the ones I can easily see. "Don't let it overwhelm you, that makes it hard to hear me," the Lord said. "Life should be an ease, you should be free as a breeze~" I entertained this thought as I drifted over the town of Christianity.
I haven't had time to scratch the surface of what this town is all about but if I am able to leave you with a thought, let it be this one. The town of Christianity is wherever you will live it. Faith, or trust is entirely up to you, I can't do it for you and God can't do it for you. Faith pleases God so why not start being pleasing to him right now? Read and study the things Jesus said you can be and do and trust Him over what you see in the natural world. Put all strife and unforgiveness out of your life, they are the biggest faith killers that I know of. Do all things in joy, this opens the door of faith so God can freely flow into your life, and be sure you understand that everything you see was made over in the land of the supernatural. Have you ever studied the word supernatural? In this context it means that the Spirit world supersedes the natural world.
If I can be of any help to you be sure and contact me, I will most likely
be out at the Holy Hill or walking on the wind~
To my dearest family, some things I'd like to say.
But first of all, to let you know, that I arrived okay. I'm writing this from heaven. Here I dwell with God above. Here, there's no more tears of sadness; Here is just eternal love.
Please do not be unhappy just because I'm out of sight. Remember that I am with you every morning, noon and night. That day I had to leave you when my life on earth was through.
God picked me up and hugged me and He said, "I welcome you. It's good to have you back again, you were missed while you were gone. As for your dearest family, They'll be here later on. I need you here badly, you're part of my plan. There's so much that we have to do, to help our mortal man." God gave me a list of things, that he wished for me to do. And foremost on the list, was to watch and care for you. And when you lie in bed at night the day's chores put to flight. God and I are closest to you....in the middle of the night.
When you think of my life on earth, and all those loving years. Because you are only human, they are bound to bring you tears. But do not be afraid to cry: it does relieve the pain. Remember there would be no flowers, unless there was some rain.
I wish that I could tell you all that God has planned. If I were to tell you, you wouldn't understand. But one thing is for certain, though my life on earth is o'er. I'm closer to you now, than I ever was before. There are many rocky roads ahead of you and many hills to climb; But together we can do it by taking one day at a time.
It was always my philosophy and I'd like it for you too; That as you give unto the world, the world will give to you. If you can help somebody who's in sorrow and pain; Then you can say to God at night......"My day was not in vain." And now I am contented....that my life was worthwhile.
Knowing as I passed along the way I made somebody smile. So if you meet somebody who is sad and feeling low; Just lend a hand to pick him up, as on your way you go. When you're walking down the street and you've got me on your mind; I'm walking in your footsteps only half a step behind.
And when it's time for you to go....from that body to be free. Remember you're not going.....you're coming here to me.
Letter From Jesus
author unknown
Dear Friend How are you?
I just had to send a note to tell you how much I care about you.
I saw you yesterday as you were talking with your friends. I waited all day, hoping you would want to talk with me, too. I gave you a sunset to close your day and cool breeze to rest you - and I waited. You never came. It hurt me - but I still love you because I am your friend.
I saw you sleeping last night and longed to touch your brow, so I spilled moonlight upon your face. Again I waited, wanting to rush down so we could talk. I have so many gifts for you! You awoke and rushed off to work. My tears were in the rain.
If you would only listen to me! I love you! I try to tell you in the blue skies and in the quiet green grass. I whisper it in the leaves on the trees and breathe it in colors of flowers, shout it to you in mountain streams, give the birds love songs to sing. I clothe you with warm sunshine and perfume the air with nature's fragrance. My love for you is deeper than the ocean and bigger than the biggest need in your heart!
Ask me! Talk with me! Please don't forget me. I have so much to share with you!
I won't hassle you any further. It is your decision. I have chosen you and I will wait - because I love you.
Your Friend,
Jesus
A Letter From the Future
author unknown
Dear Mom,
Can you believe it's 2023 already? I'm still writing 22 on nearly everything. Seems like yesterday I was sitting in first grade celebrating the century change!
I know we haven't really chatted since Christ-mas. Sorry. Anyway, I have some difficult news and I really didn't want to call and talk face to face.
Ted's had a promotion, and I should be up for a hefty raise this year if I keep putting in those crazy hours. You know how hard I work at it. Yes, we're still struggling with the bills.
Timmy's been "OK" at kindergarten, although he complains about going.
But then he wasn't happy about day care either, so what can I do? He's been a real problem, Mom. He's a good kid, but quite honestly, he's an unfair burden at this time in our lives. Ted and I have talked this through and through and finally made a choice. Plenty of other families have made it and are much better off.
Our minister is supportive and says hard decisions sometimes are necessary. The family is a "system" and the demands of one member shouldn't be allowed to ruin the whole. He told us to be prayerful, consider all the factors, and do what is right to make the family work. He says that even though he probably wouldn't do it himself, the decision is really ours. He was kind enough to refer us to a children's clinic near here, so at least that part's easy.
I'm not an uncaring mother. I do feel sorry for the little guy. I think he heard Ted and me talking about "it" the other night. I turned around and saw him standing at the bottom step in his pj's with the little bear you gave him under his arm. His eyes sort of welled up with tears. Mom, the way he looked at me almost broke my heart. But I honestly believe this is better for Timmy too. It's not fair to force him to live in a family that can't give him the time and attention he deserves.
And please don't give me the kind of grief Grandma gave you over your abortions. This is exactly the same thing, you know.
We've told Timmy that he's just going in for a vaccination. Anyway, they say the termination procedure is painless.
I guess it's just as well that you haven't seen him that much, nor spent much time with him.
Give my love to Dad.
Love, Jane
May God help us to see where our disregard for the value of human life could lead us.
January 22, 2023, (50th Anniversary of Roe vs. Wade)
(NOTE: The author of this letter is unknown, but it appeared in an "Oilfield Christian Fellowship" journal.)
A Letter From Peter
by Letty Zook
(Asia Minor 64 A.D.)
His master was dying. Philip was sure of it. The cave's cool shade was a relief. Dragging Nathan even a short distance was hard work for a twelve year old boy.
Just a while ago, the two had been stumbling across the Bithynian landscape. Sick and weak, Nathan's strength was suddenly gone. It was surprising that he had made it so far. Philip looked sadly at his master's flushed face. Nathan of Judah, an old family line. The sick man's eyes seemed to stare into another world. His tongue licked at parched lips. Philip reached for the water pouch.
"Here, Master, drink this."
With one arm, Philip raised Nathan's head. With the other he held the pouch up to his master's mouth. After the older man had drunk deeply, Philip gently lowered his head.
"Philip, Philip! You must take it." Awareness flashed into Nathan's eyes. He gasped. "We're so close."
It was true. Their home in Jerusalem was far behind. Nicomedia was just ahead. "Don't worry, Master," Philip said. "I'll take the letter."
"Stephanas! Ask for Stephanas..." The words trailed off as Nathan fell into an uneasy sleep.
Philip lifted a scroll from the folds of his master's cloak. It was unlike most letters. They were usually wrapped tightly with important-looking seals. This one had the inviting air of being well read.
A burning touch startled Philip. Nathan was awake again.
"Philip, you are a believer, aren't you?" The words sounded far away.
"Yes, Master." Philip felt a twinge of guilt. Sometimes he was filled with doubts. He stroked his master's expensive cloak, now worn and faded. The cost of believing was great.
"Read it, Philip," whispered Nathan. "The part I like best."
The boy unrolled the letter and glanced at the writing. "Yet if any man suffer as a Christian, let him not be ashamed; but let him glorify God..." After he read a while, he looked at Nathan. The sick man's face had become very calm. Too calm!
Philip quickly put his ear against Nathan's chest. Nothing. His master was dead.
Numbly, the young boy stood up. He stared around. Then, bending over Nathan, he heaved with all his strength and dragged the body deeper into the cave. He couldn't seal the opening, but there were plenty of rocks.
As Philip worked quickly to cover Nathan's body, he felt the full shock of what happened. Tears filled his large blue eyes. Never had he felt more alone.
The dimness of the cave was suddenly frightening. With a final glance, Philip ran from the cave, remembering to grab the water pouch and scroll as he stumbled away. Outside, he took deep breaths of the balmy air. Sunlight warmed his trembling body. The sound of squawking birds overhead was some how comforting.
He looked at the scroll he clutched in his hand. After wiping his eyes with the coarse sleeve of his tunic, he opened it. The first sentence read: Peter, an apostle of Jesus Christ, to the strangers scattered throughout Pontus, Galatia, Cappadocia, Asia, and Bithynia."
Philip rolled it up and stuffed it inside the loose top of his garment. His large leather belt held it tightly against his skin. He hoisted the water pouch over his shoulder. Giving the cave one brief look, Philip headed in the direction Nathan had pointed out to him earlier. Strange how it seemed so long ago.
Late the same day, Philip trudged into the seaside town of Nicomedia. His water pouch was dry, and his stomach felt empty.
The bustling in the streets soon made him forget his hunger. He stared in fascination at the many different wares being bought and sold around him. Shipmen cried loudly to one another as they unloaded cargo. Groups of fishermen stood about discussing the morning's haul. Philip looked thoughtfully at them. Was one of them Stephanas?
The smell of fried fish reminded him of his long overdue supper. He thought of the gold coins nestled safely inside his belt. His master had not used any of them as they traveled. In every town, their presence had drawn forth a group of generous believers. As he considered the gold coins, a sudden temptation clutched his heart. Why look for Stephanas at all? With a bit of money he could get along fine in a town like this. In some ways, it reminded Philip of
Jerusalem.
Jerusalem! Nathan had hated to leave there. But his master's wealthy family had made life unbearable. The proud clan would not tolerate a "Jesus follower" in their midst. Now Nathan was dead. Did the letter really matter anymore? He drew the scroll from beneath his shirt. Nearby was a deep gutter piled high with dirty rags and other discarded items.
Just then a loud commotion made him to whirl around. He saw three boys his own age roughly shoving a fourth one.
"Feeble-head! Your family are Christians," taunted one of them.
"Roman lions will eat you someday!" shouted another.
The boy being shoved did not resist. Neither did he cower with fright.
"We're not ashamed to suffer as Christians!" His brave words made Philip's fingers tighten around the scroll he was still holding.
With a hard punch, one of the persecutors knocked the Christian boy to the ground. Then the three of them dashed off in different directions. Philip ran to the figure sprawled in the dust.
"Are you all right?" Philip helped him to his feet. He brushed the boy's hair away from his eyes. "You're going to have quite a bruise," he said.
The boy smiled faintly and looked at Philip with interest. "My name is Simon," he said.
"And mine is Philip." He paused, then added, "You were right, Simon!"
When Simon looked puzzled, Philip opened the scroll in his hand.
"See, right here," he said, pointing to it. "Someone named Peter says just what you said. I mean, about not being ashamed to suffer as a Christian."
"Peter!" Simon looked at the letter with disbelief. "Are you saying this is a letter from the Apostle Peter?"
Philip nodded. "I never met him, but I know he is someone important."
"Important!" Now Simon stared at Philip.
"I'm to give it to someone named Stephanas. Do you know him?"
Simon nodded, overwhelmed. "I'll show you," he said. Giving the letter an awestruck glance, he hurried off. Philip followed at his heels.
A few minutes later, Philip was sitting alone in an richly furnished room. Simon had pointed out the large dwelling before saying a quick good-bye. The servant who answered Philip's knock brought him into the room to wait for Stephanas.
The bewildered boy stared at the expensive statues and gilded furniture. Doubts were beginning to fill him. Could a Christian live here? What if Simon had brought him to the wrong Stephanas? He looked at the letter he was clutching and gulped. The threat of Roman lions was not an idle one! He edged toward the doorway.
A large dark-haired figure loomed in it, blocking his exit. The man looked very impressive with his thick mantle draped over his shoulder. Philip jumped back in fear.
"What is it, lad?" The voice was gruff.
Philip could not speak. When the man spoke again, his tone was milder. "Do you have a message for me?"
Philip stretched out his hand and offered the scroll. After the man opened it and looked at it, he stared at the boy with amazement.
"We heard a letter from the apostle was traveling around. How did it come into your hands?"
In a rush, Philip described all that had happened. His voice trembled when he spoke of Nathan's death.
The older man's face became sad at the news. Before he could speak, though, a servant came to the door begging his master's attention.
"Wait here, lad," said Stephanas. He disappeared through the doorway. Philip heard him greet someone outside. "Greetings brother! I have wonderful news--a letter from Peter!" His words became muffled as he moved farther away.
Philip slumped dejectedly. Now that his mission was finished, he felt let down. He missed Nathan. What will become of me? thought Philip. Will Stephanas send me back to Jerusalem? Dread gripped him. He missed his old home, but he did not want to return to Nathan's family. Yet what could he do? He was a slave.
Digging into his belt, he pried out the large gold coins hidden there. He piled them on a nearby ledge and stared at them. Philip knew Nathan had planned to free him one day soon. Nathan had believed all Christian masters should free their slaves. All he had to do was pick up the coins and leave.
His fingers twitched toward the stack of gold. But as they did so, words flashed through his mind--words from the letter: "But let none of you suffer as...a thief." Philip clenched his fingers and drew back his arm.
Some time later Stephanas walked back into the room. His eyes fell immediately on the stack of coins. He raised his eyebrows and looked at Philip. "Hidden treasure?" he said.
"The gold was Nathan's," said Philip quietly. "I suppose it now belongs to his family."
Stephanas smiled. "I'm well acquainted with them," he said. "I'm sure the returned gold will make them overlook the loss of a slave."
Philip gulped. "I'll serve you well."
"No, serve the Lord Jesus Christ," said Stephanas. "But you are welcome to stay and serve me for wages. After all, Philip, we are all servants. We've been bought by God."
"'With the precious blood of Christ, a lamb without blemish and without spot,' " replied Philip.
Stephanas eyed Philip with respect. "You know the letter by memory?"
"Master Nathan used it to teach me to read," explained Philip.
"Tomorrow you must say all the words by Nathan's grave," said Stephanas. "I've arranged for a gathering of the brethren. You will show us where Nathan's body rests."
Philip clasped Stephanas's hand and kissed it. The older man smiled and shook his head. "Welcome to the house of Stephanas," he said, holding the younger boy's hand in his own. "Peace to you, Philip--my brother."
Scripture quoted in story: I Peter 4:16; 1:1; 4:15; 1:19
Let's remember to listen to the whisper.
A young and successful executive was traveling down a neighborhood street, going a bit too fast in his new Jaguar. He was watching for kids darting out from between parked cars and slowed down when he thought he saw something. As his car passed, no children appeared. Instead, a brick smashed into the Jag's side door!
He slammed on the brakes and spun the Jag back to the spot from where the brick had been thrown. He jumped out of the car, grabbed some kid and pushed him up against a parked car shouting, "What was that all about and who are you? Just what in the world are you doing?!!" Building up a head of steam he went on. "That's a new car and that brick you threw is going to cost a lot of money. Why did you do it?!!"
"Please, mister, please. I'm sorry, I didn't know what else to do!" pleaded the youngster. "I threw the brick because no one else would stop." Tears were dripping down the boys chin as he pointed around the parked car. "It's my brother," he said, "He rolled off the curb and fell out of his wheelchair and I can't lift him up." Sobbing, the boy asked the executive, "Would you please help me get him back into his wheelchair? He's hurt and he's too heavy for me."
Moved beyond words, the driver tried to swallow the rapidly swelling lump in his throat. He lifted the young man back into the wheelchair and took out his handkerchief and wiped the scrapes and cuts, checking to see that everything was going to be okay. "Thank you and May God bless you," the grateful child said to him. The man then watched the little boy push his brother down the sidewalk toward their home.
It was a long walk back to his jaguar... a long, slow walk. He never did repair the side door. He kept the dent to remind him not to go through life so fast that someone has to throw a brick at you to get your attention. God whispers in your soul and speaks to your heart. Sometimes when you don't have time to listen, He has to throw a brick at you.
It's your choice: Listen to the whisper or wait for the brick.
Lonely Ember
author unknown
A member of a certain church, who previously had been attending services regularly, stopped going. After a few weeks, the pastor decided to visit him. It was a chilly evening. The pastor found the man at home alone, sitting before a blazing fire.
Guessing the reason for his pastor's visit, the man welcomed him, led him to a big chair near the fireplace and waited. The pastor made himself comfortable but said nothing. In the grave silence, he contemplated the play of the flames around the burning logs. After some minutes, the pastor took the fire tongs, carefully picked up a brightly burning ember and placed it to one side of the hearth all alone. Then he sat back in his chair, still silent. The host watched all this in quiet fascination.
As the one lone ember's flame diminished, there was a momentary glow and then its fire was no more. Soon it was cold and "dead as a doornail." Not a word had been spoken since the initial greeting. Just before the pastor was ready to leave, he picked up the cold, dead ember and placed it back in the middle of the fire. Immediately it began to glow once more with the light and warmth of the burning coals around it. As the pastor reached the door to leave, his host said, "Thank you so much for your visit and especially for the fiery sermon. I shall be back in church next Sunday."
Long Lost Gift From Dad
by Keith Kluksdahl
My Dad died just after my sophomore year of college. At the time, I was a rather rebellious 20 year-old. I wasn't particularly interested in getting to know my Dad as a person. He didn't know what he was talking about as far as I was concerned. Several years after his death, as I matured, I discovered that Dad did know what he was talking about. I began to understand him as a person. I became more and more curious. And I grieved the fact that I could not talk with him. As the years have passed, I've learned more and more about my Dad. Each piece of information allows me to create an understanding, and even a relationship, that wasn't there while he was alive.
A couple of years after my enlightenment, I read a poem on the back of a tea box. It struck a chord and I kept it. While sharing this poem with my sister, I suddenly recalled hearing Dad recite this poem. The fact that Dad introduced me to this poem and it stayed with me is incredibly satisfying. The message in the poem is a part of me. I now know that my Dad had a grasp of the meaning life that I couldn't comprehend back then. Each time I read this poem, I think of Dad and how proud he would be of the way I've grown.
And I feel pleased at the way my life is going. The poem is "A Psalm of Life"
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.
Tell me not in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream!
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.
Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou are, to dust thou returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.
Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each tomorrow
Find us farther than today.
Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.
In the world's broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
Be a hero in the strife!
Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant!
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act, - act in the living Present!
Heart within, and God o'erhead!
Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sand of time;
Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.
Let us then be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.
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