Pastoral Resources

A friend who lives in a forested area found his home overrun with mice—too many to exterminate with traps. So he bought a few boxes of D-Con and distributed them around the house, including one under his bed. That night he couldn’t believe his ears; below him was a feeding frenzy. In the morning he checked the box and found it licked clean. Just to make sure the plan worked, he bought and placed another box. Again, the mice went for the flavored poison like piranha.

But the tasty and popular nighttime snack did its deadly work. In the days that followed, all was quiet. Just because something is popular doesn’t mean it’s good for you. It can be deadly—like sin.

While D.L. Moody was attending a convention in Indianapolis on mass evangelism, he asked his song leader Ira Sankey to meet him at 6 o’clock one evening at a certain street corner. When Sankey arrived, Mr. Moody asked him to stand on a box and sing. Once a crowd had gathered, Moody spoke briefly and then invited the people to follow him to the nearby convention hall. Soon the auditorium was filled with spiritually hungry people, and the great evangelist preached the gospel to them.

Then the convention delegates began to arrive. Moody stopped preaching and said, “Now we must close, as the brethren of the convention wish to come and discuss the topic, ‘How to reach the masses.’”

Moody graphically illustrated the difference between talking about doing something and going out and doing it.

In his new biography of evangelist D. L. Moody, author Lyle Dorsett relates the following story of God’s amazing faithfulness:

It was the spring of 1862 and the Civil War had taken its toll on troops and citizens alike. Evangelist D. L. Moody was frequently seen on the battlefields, ministering to soldiers on the frontlines. During one instance, late at night after a weary day at war, the party of Christian workers was walking among the body-strewn fields searching for survivors.

The hundreds of men they came upon were wounded and famished, and a search of the area produced little nourishment for the weary men. Desperate, the small band of workers gathered together asking God to provide the needed supplies. “Later,” tells Dorsett, “some workers admitted that they were doubtful God would respond.”

As the first gleam of morning light rose above the battlefield, a wagon appeared on the horizon. As it approached the workers, they realized it was a large farm wagon piled high with loaves of bread. God had provided: manna from heaven!

The driver approached the men and told the following story: “When I went to bed last night, I knew the army was gone and I could not sleep for thinking of the poor fellows who were wounded and would have to stay behind. Something seemed to whisper in my ear, ‘What will those poor fellows do for something to eat?” I could not get rid of this voice.”

That faithful servant of God could not sleep, so he woke his wife and she began baking as much bread as possible. Meanwhile, he hitched up his wagon and called on his neighbors to gather additional food. Said the man: “[I felt} just as if I was being sent by our Lord Himself.”

Speaking to a large audience, D.L. Moody held up a glass and asked, “How can I get the air out of this glass?”

One man shouted, “Suck it out with a pump!”

Moody replied, “That would create a vacuum and shatter the glass.”

After numerous other suggestions Moody smiled, picked up a pitcher of water, and filled the glass. “There,” he said, “all the air is now removed.” He then went on to explain that victory in the Christian life is not accomplished by “sucking out a sin here and there,” but by being filled with the Holy Spirit.

Moody was to have a campaign in England. An elderly pastor protested, “Why do we need this ‘Mr. Moody’? He’s uneducated, inexperienced, etc. Who does he think he is anyway? Does he think he has a monopoly on the Holy Spirit?”

A younger, wiser pastor rose and responded, “No, but the Holy Spirit has a monopoly on Mr. Moody.”

D. L. Moody said, “I believe firmly that the moment our hearts are emptied of pride and selfishness and ambition and everything that is contrary to God’s law, the Holy Spirit will fill every corner of our hearts. But if we are full of pride and conceit and ambition and the world, there is no room for the Spirit of God. We must be emptied before we can be filled.”

A cover article in the February 27 issue of U. S. News & World Report concluded that: Dad is destiny. More than any other factor, a father’s presence in the family will determine a child’s success and happiness.” The article noted that nearly two out of every five children in America do not live with their fathers.

“Come into the living room, children. We have something we need to tell you.” That’s how our parents told us they were not going to be together anymore. After they told us they were divorcing, I sat under the table and my mind replayed again and again the words my father said. I didn’t know then what it all meant, but I soon learned.

After Dad left, I looked through the drawers where he kept his clothes and found an old sweat shirt he left behind. I hid it in my room and kept it for years. I would cling to it when I was lonely for him.

My father came back to see us a few times, but his visits became less and less frequent. Finally his visits stopped completely. I always wondered where he went. I wondered if he thought about us very much. I hoped that he did. But I guess I’ll never know.

He couldn't see much reason

To go to Bible school;

And yet he didn't argue

With Daddy's Sunday rule.

But still he often wondered-

If Daddy's words were true,

Since Bible study's needed,

Why Dad did not go too?

One day when he was angry,

His Daddy overheard

Him say in tones emphatic,

A string of ugly words.

The boy was quickly summoned,

By an indignant shout;

And as the lad stood trembling,

His Daddy cursed him out.

And then a new adventure,

The boy embarked upon;

He tried a little smoking,

Which led to more than one.

His Daddy whipped and lectured:

'Twas quite a stern attack,

And then the son gave answer:

"I got them from your pack!"

We need no application,

The truth shines bright as day;

We teach much more by doing,

Much less by what we say.

Do naught but what you truly

Desire your child to do;

He may not always hear well,

But he is watching you!

A little girl and her father were returning from the funeral of their dearly loved mother and wife. Some kind neighbors invited them to spend a few days with them so they wouldn't be alone in the house with all its sad memories. However, the father decided it would be better to go home. That night the father placed the little girl's bed next to his, but neither could fall asleep. Finally the child said, "Daddy, it's dark, I can't see you. But you're there, aren't you?" "Yes, dear, Daddy's here right next to you. Go to sleep." The little one finally dropped off to sleep. In the darkness and the depth of sorrow, the father in tears said aloud, "O Heavenly Father, it's so dark, and my heart is overflowing with sorrow. But You're there, aren't You?" And immediately there came to him a passage from the prophet Isaiah: "Fear thou not; for I am with thee: be not dismayed; for I am thy God: I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee; I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness" (Isa 41:10).

A calorie guide citing a recent medical association report: “Proper weight control and physical fitness cannot be attained by dieting alone. Many people who are engaged in sedentary occupations do not realize that calories can be burned by the hundreds by engaging in strenuous activities that do not require physical exercise.”

Here’s the guide to calorie-burning activities and the number of calories per hour they consume.

Beating around the bush

75

Jumping to conclusions

100

Climbing the walls

150

Swallowing your pride

50

Passing the buck.

25

Throwing your weight around (depending on your weight)

50-300

Dragging your heels

100

Pushing your luck

250

Making mountains out of molehills

500

Hitting the nail on the head.

50

Wading through paperwork

300

Bending over backwards.

75

Jumping on the bandwagon.

200

Running around in circles

350

Eating crow

225

Tooting your own horn

25

Adding fuel to the fire.

150

Opening a can of worms

50

Liu Chi Kung, who placed second to Van Cliburn in the 1948 Tchaikovsky competition, was imprisoned a year later during the Cultural Revolution in China. During the entire seven years he was held, he was denied the use of a piano. Soon after his release, however, he was back on tour. Critics wrote in astonishment that his musicianship was better than ever. “How did you do this?” a critic asked. “You had no chance to practice for seven years.”

“I did practice,” Liu replied, “every day. I rehearsed every piece I have ever played, note by note, in my mind.”

Steve Green, who sang six years with Bill and Gloria Gaither, tells about getting to know some of the work crews in the large auditoriums where their concerts were held. The Gaithers prefer concerts-in-the-round, which means extra work for the “riggers,” who walk the four-inch rafter beams—often a hundred feet above the concrete floor—to hang sound speakers and spotlights. For such work, understandably, they are very well paid.

“The fellows I talked to weren’t bothered by the sight of looking down a hundred feet,” says Green. “What they DIDN’T like, they said, were jobs in buildings that had false ceilings—acoustical tile slung just a couple of feet below the rafters. They were still high in the air, and if they slipped, their weight would smash right through the flimsy tile. But their minds seemed to play tricks on them, lulling them into carelessness.”

Satan’s business is not so much in scaring us to death as persuading us that the danger of a spiritual fall is minimal. No wonder Peter advised us to “resist him, standing firm in the faith” (I Peter 5:9).

An astronomer who was on his way to give a lecture discovered that his seatmate on the airplane was a preacher. Early in the conversation he assured the clergyman that he knew everything about religion he needed to know. The preacher expressed delight and asked where the scientist had studied religion and how much he had read the Bible.

"Oh, no," the astronomer replied, "I've never studied theology, and I don't read the Bible, but I know the Golden Rule, and I figure that's enough religion for me."

"Well, on that basis," declared the preacher, "I guess I know all about astronomy."

The scientist scoffed and asked the pastor what he knew about the cosmos, to which the man of the cloth replied gravely, "Twinkle, twinkle little star; how I wonder what you are."

Teenagers are much more inclined to take warnings about steroids seriously if the drugs’ muscle-building benefits are acknowledged in the same speech, say doctors at Oregon Health Sciences University. That was the case when the doctors lectured nine high school football teams on the effects of steroids. They found that football players who heard a balanced presentation on steroids were 50 percent more likely to believe that the drugs could harm their health than those who were told just of the dangers. This isn’t the only instance where scare tactics have been known to fail. In spite of a massive, ongoing campaign on the hazards of cigarette smoking, millions continue to light up. Health experts might be more successful if they acknowledged smoking’s pleasurable aspects. Then once they had a smoker’s attention, they could let loose on why it’s time to quit.

I have felt for a long time that one of the particular temptations of the maturing Christian is the danger of getting accustomed to his blessings. Like the world traveler who has been everywhere and seen everything, the maturing Christian is in danger of taking his blessings for granted and getting so accustomed to them that they fail to excite him as they once did.

Emerson said that if the stars came out only once a year, everybody would stay up all night to behold them. We have seen the stars so often that we don’t bother to look at them anymore. We have grown accustomed to our blessings.

The Israelites in the wilderness got accustomed to their blessings, and God had to chasten the people (see Num. 11). God had fed the nation with heavenly manna each morning, and yet the people were getting tired of it. “But now our whole being is dried up,” they said, “there is nothing at all except this manna before our eyes!” (v. 6).

Nothing but manna! They were experiencing a miracle of God’s provision every morning; yet they were no longer excited about it. Nothing but manna!

One of the evidences that we have grown accustomed to our blessings is this spirit of criticism and complaining. Instead of thanking God for what we have, we complain about it and tell him we wish we had something else. You can be sure that if God did give us what we asked for, we would eventually complain about that. The person who has gotten accustomed to his blessing can never be satisfied.

Another evidence of this malady is the idea that others have a better situation than we do. The Israelites remembered their diet in Egypt and longed to return to the cucumbers, melons, leeks, onions, and garlic. They were saying, “The people in Egypt are so much better off than we are!” Obviously, they had forgotten the slavery they had endured in Egypt and the terrible bondage from which God had delivered them. Slavery is a high price to pay for a change in diet.

The more members of a group like and respect one another, the more probable it is they will make a poor decision. A well-known example of the dangers of this unhealthy group orientation took place during the John F. Kennedy administration. A faulty decision caused the defeat of American forces in the invasion of Cuba at the Bay of Pigs, embarrassing the President and the nation.

President Kennedy had surrounded himself with a committee of some of the shrewdest advisors in the country. This group of experts didn't make a poor decision because of low IQs. They failed because they wanted to be liked by others in the group. They allowed friendship and loyalty to overwhelm their decision-making process.

Advisors who were tempted to speak up in opposition to the attack decided against it out of fear of being disliked, or because they didn't want to waste everyone's time. In a memorandum written before the committee assembled, Arthur Schlesinger, one of the members of the Kennedy inner circle, acknowledged that he considered the invasion of Cuba a mistake. But he kept silent when he participated in the discussion. Robert Kennedy, the President's brother and the U.S. attorney general, got Schlesinger in the corner after discovering that he opposed the invasion. Kennedy put it bluntly, "Arthur, you may be right or you may be wrong, but the president has made up his mind. Don't push any further." Schlesinger kept quiet. The environment wasn't right for voicing dissent.

Lawyer and statesman Daniel Webster was a powerful orator who gave early evidence of his quick mind and way with words. One day Webster’s father, who was to be absent from home, left Daniel and his brother Ezekiel specific work instructions. But on his return he found the task still undone, and questioned his sons about their idleness.

“What have you been doing, Ezekiel?” he asked.

“Nothing, sir.”

“Well, Daniel, what have you been doing?”

“Helping Zeke, sir.”

In a book entitled Down to Earth, John Lawrence tells the story of a city that dared God to show Himself and paid a terrible price. It seems that the city of Messina, Sicily, was home to many wicked, irreligious people.

On December 25, 1908, a newspaper published in Messina printed a parody against God, daring Him to make Himself known by sending an earthquake.

Three days later, on December 28, the city and its surrounding district was devastated by a terrible quake that killed 84,000 people.

Darwin himself said, “If it could be demonstrated that any complex organ existed which could not possibly have been formed by numerous, successive, slight modifications, my theory would absolutely break down.

After reading 1 Thess. 4:3-8, 1 Cor. 6:18-20, Acts 24:16) In obedience to God’s command, I promise to protect your moral purity from this day until our honeymoon. Because I respect and honor you, I commit to build up the inner person of your heart rather than violate you. I pledge to show my love for you in ways that allow both of us to maintain a clear conscience before God and each other.

As a hundred thousand fans watched, Richard Petty ended his 45-race losing streak and picked up stockcar racing’s biggest purse—$73,500. It all happened at the Daytona 500.

Petty’s win, however, was a complete surprise. Going into the last lap, he was running 30 seconds behind the two leaders. All at once the car in second place tried to pass the No. 1 man on the final stretch. This caused the first car to drift inside and force the challenger onto the infield grass, and slightly out of control. What happened next was incredible. The offended driver pulled his car back onto the track, caught up with the leader, and forced him into the outside wall. Both vehicles came to a screeching halt. The two drivers jumped out and quickly got into an old-fashioned slugging match. In the meantime, third-place Petty cruised by for the win.

David Brainerd was an American colonial missionary to the Indians who died at the age of twenty-nine. His diary reveals a young man intensely committed to God. Brainerd once said to Jonathan Edwards: “I do not go to heaven to be advanced but to give honor to God. It is no matter where I shall be stationed in heaven, whether I have a high seat or a low seat there...My heaven is to please God and glorify Him, and give all to Him, and to be wholly devoted to His glory.”

David Letterman says the single most powerful motivating force in his life is a desire to succeed and prevail. He explains how he feels about doing “Late Show With David Letterman”:

Every night you’re trying to prove your self-worth. It’s like meeting your girlfriend’s family for the first time. You want to be the absolute best, wittiest, smartest, most charming, best-smelling version of yourself. If I can make people enjoy the experience and have a higher regard for me when I’m finished, it makes me feel like an entire person. If I’ve come short of that, I’m not happy. How things go for me every night is how I feel about myself for the next 24 hours. Because I’m not playing a character—I’m trying to give you the best version of myself.

1. No calls from salespeople pushing MCI’s “Friends and Family” plan.

2. You go to a video store and say out loud to yourself, “Well, what do you want to rent tonight?”

3. You send birthday cards to members of “The McLaughlin Group.”

4. You are one of the five best solitaire players in the world.

5. Your initials are G.S., and you own a Major League baseball team in the Bronx.

6. At your funeral, the entire eulogy is, “Yep, he’s dead.”

7. Having a Super Bowl party means dressing up your dogs and tying then to the furniture.

8. James Taylor sings the first bars of “You’ve Got a Friend,” notices you in the audience and stops.

9. You’re still drinking from the same keg you bought on New Year’s Eve 1987.

10. All your phone calls start with “900.”

It is said that when the famous missionary, Dr. David Livingstone, started his trek across Africa he had 73 books in 3 packs, weighing 180 pounds. After the party had gone 300 miles, Livingstone was obliged to throw away some of the books because of the fatigue of those carrying his baggage. As he continued on his journey his library grew less and less, until he had but one book left—his Bible.

In his men’s seminar, David Simmons, a former cornerback for the Dallas Cowboys, tells about his childhood home. His father, a military man, was extremely demanding, rarely saying a kind word, always pushing him with harsh criticism to do better. The father had decided that he would never permit his son to feel any satisfaction from his accomplishments, reminding him there were always new goals ahead.

When Dave was a little boy, his dad gave him a bicycle, unassembled, with the command that he put it together. After Dave struggled to the point of tears with the difficult instructions and many parts, his father said, “I knew you couldn’t do it.” Then he assembled it for him.

When Dave played football in high school, his father was unrelenting in his criticisms. In the backyard of his home, after every game, his dad would go over every play and point out Dave’s errors. “Most boys got butterflies in the stomach before the game; I got them afterwards. Facing my father was more stressful than facing any opposing team.”

By the time he entered college, Dave hated his father and his harsh discipline. He chose to play football at the University of Georgia because its campus was further from home than any school that offered him a scholarship. After college, he became the second round draft pick of the St. Louis cardinal’s professional football club. Joe Namath (who later signed with the New York Jets), was the club’s first round pick that year.

“Excited, “I telephoned my father to tell him the good news.

He said, ‘How does it feel to be second?’“ Despite the hateful feelings he had for his father, Dave began to build a bridge to his dad. Christ had come into his life during college years, and it was God’s love that made him turn to his father. During visits home he stimulated conversation with him and listened with interest to what his father had to say. He learned for the first time what his grandfather had been like—a tough lumberjack known for his quick temper. Once he destroyed a pickup truck with a sledgehammer because it wouldn’t start, and he often beat his son. This new awareness affected Dave dramatically.

“Knowing about my father’s upbringing not only made me more sympathetic for him, but it helped me see that, under the circumstances, he might have done much worse. By the time he died, I can honestly say we were friends.”

Charles De Gaulle once said: “When I am right, I get angry. Churchill gets angry when he is wrong. So we were very often angry at each other.”

Our neighbor’s cat was run over by a car, and the mother quickly disposed of the remains before her four-year-old son Billy found out about it. After a few days, though, Billy finally asked about the cat.

“Billy, the cat died,” his mother explained. “But it’s all right. He’s up in heaven with God.”

The boy asked, “What in the world would God want with a dead cat?”

To illustrate dead faith, “It is that kind of faith which would lead a man to take a bottle of medicine from his medicine cabinet. Looking at the instructions on it, he says, ‘I’m sure they’re correct. I have all confidence in the source of the medicine. I know who wrote these directions. I believe everything about it. I know this will relieve my headache, if I just take it.’ But he takes the medicine bottle and puts it back on the shelf. He doesn’t lose his headache. It continues on. Yet he can say I believe that medicine. I believe all about that medicine. But still he won’t take it. That’s dead faith.” James 2:20 -

The commanding officer was furious when nine GIs who had been out on passes failed to show up for morning roll call. Not until 7 p.m. did the first man straggle in. “I’m sorry, sir,” the soldier explained, “but I had a date and lost track of time, and I missed the bus back. Being determined to get in on time, I hired a cab. Halfway here, the cab broke down. I went to a farmhouse and persuaded the farmer to sell me a horse. I was riding to camp when the animal fell over dead. I walked the last ten miles, and just got here.”

Though skeptical, the colonel let the young man off with a reprimand. However, after him, seven other stragglers in a row came in with the same story—had a date, missed the bus, hired a cab, bought a horse, etc. By the time the ninth man reported in, the colonel had grown weary of it. “Okay,” he growled, “now what happened to you?”

“Sir, I had this date and missed the bus back, so I hired a cab...”

“Wait!” the colonel screeched at him. “don’t tell me the cab broke down.”

“No, sir,” replied the soldier. “The cab didn’t break down. It was just that there were so many dead horses in the road, we had trouble getting through.”

Harry Truman enjoyed telling about the man who was hit on the head at work. The blow was so severe he was knocked unconscious for an extended period of time. His family, convinced he was dead, called the funeral home and asked the local undertaker to pick hum up at the hospital, which he did.

Early the following morning this dear man suddenly awoke and sat straight up in the casket. Confused, he blinked several times and looked around, trying to put the whole thing together. He thought, “If I’m alive, what in the world am I doing in this soft, satin-filled box? And if I’m dead, why do I have to go to the bathroom?”

Source unknown

I remember one winter my dad needed firewood, and he found a dead tree and sawed it down. In the spring, to his dismay, new shoots sprouted around the trunk. He said, “I thought sure it was dead. The leaves had all dropped in the wintertime. It was so cold that twigs snapped as if there were no life left in the old tree. But now I see that there was still life at the taproot.” He looked at me and said, “Bob, don’t’ forget this important lesson. Never cut a tree down in the wintertime. Never make a negative decision in the low time. Never make your most important decisions when you are in your worst mood. Wait. Be patient. The storm will pass. The spring will come.”

Last July the nation’s deadliest forest fire blazed up all at once, like the roar of a tornado. Unable to escape, 14 firefighters were killed.

But Brad Haugh managed to survive. At about 2 p.m., Haugh and his partner broke for lunch. As he opened a can of Beanie Weenies, the pull-off ring on the lid broke. Haugh pulled out his knife and cut the lid off, a procedure that delayed by about five minutes his return to work. Later, he would conclude that those five minutes might have saved his life by slowing his descent down a ridge.

At about 3:30 p.m. the out-of-control fire raced toward Haugh. Scrambling through the brush, he reached the ridge top. He started to turn around to look back at the fire, but remembered how Lot’s wife had turned to look at Sodom and Gomorrah. Twenty minutes later he reached safety.

Gossip is the most deadly microbe. It has neither legs nor wings. It is composed entirely of tales, and most of them have stings.

A secret and deadly power lies hidden beneath the ground of Belgium’s Flanders Field, one of the bloodiest battlefields of World War I.

Unexploded artillery shells are surfacing there more than 80 years after they were fired. Still unexploded, many are capable of killing. Some 3,000 shells are unearthed each year by farmers and construction workers, while others simply work their way up through the soil. The problem is immense: dozens of full-time workers cannot keep up with it. Even worse, thousands of these projectiles contain poison gas.

On one occasion Norman “Kid” McCoy, who was welterweight boxing champion in 1896, was fighting a contender who had the misfortune of being deaf. Once McCoy discovered his opponent’s disability, he wasted no time in taking advantage of it. Near the end of the third round McCoy stepped back a pace and pointed to his adversary’s corner, indicating that the bell had rung.

“Oh, thank you so much,” said McCoy’s opponent. “very civil of you.” But the bell hadn’t rung at all, and as soon as the other boxer dropped his hands and turned away. McCoy immediately knocked him out.

The great composer Ludwig van Beethoven (1770-1827) lived much of his life in fear of deafness. He was concerned because he felt the sense of hearing was essential to creating music of lasting value.

When Beethoven discovered that the thing he feared most was coming rapidly upon him, he was almost frantic with anxiety. He consulted doctors and tried every possible remedy. But the deafness increased until at last all hearing was gone.

Beethoven finally found the strength he needed to go on despite his great loss. To everyone’s amazement, he wrote some of his grandest music after he became totally deaf. With all distractions shut out, melodies flooded in on him as fast as his pen could write them down. His deafness became a great asset.

An elderly teacher, with a pupil by his side, took a walk through a forest. Suddenly he stopped and pointed to four plants close at hand. The first was just beginning to peep above the ground, the second had rooted itself pretty well into the earth, the third was a small shrub, while the fourth was a full-sized tree. The tutor said to his young companion, ‘Pull up the first plant.’ The boy did so eagerly, using only his fingers. ‘Now pull up the second.’ The youth obeyed but found the task more difficult. ‘Do the same with the third,’ he urged. The boy had to use all his strength to uproot it. ‘Now,’ said the instructor, ‘try your hand with the fourth.’ The pupil put his arms around the trunk of the tall tree and couldn’t even shake its leaves. ‘This, my son, is just what happens with our bad habits. When they are young, we can remove them readily; but when they are old, it’s hard to uproot them, though we pray and struggle ever so sincerely.’

An angel appears at a faculty meeting and tells the dean that in return for his unselfish and exemplary behavior, the Lord will reward him with his choice of infinite wealth, wisdom or beauty. Without hesitating, the dean selects infinite wisdom.

“Done!” says the angel, and disappears in a cloud of smoke and a bolt of lightning. Now, all heads turn toward the dean, who sits surrounded by a faint halo of light. At length, one of his colleagues whispers, “Say something.”

The dean looks at them and says, “I should have taken the money.”

Dear Abby: I am 44 and would like to meet a man my age with no bad habits.

Dear Rose: So would I.

Shortly after I got my driver’s license I was driving too close to the middle of a narrow road and I sideswiped another car. The crash tore the front fender, two doors, and the rear fender from my dad’s car. After I found out everyone was okay, I stood in the ditch and prayed, “Dear God, I pray this didn’t happen.” I opened my eyes and saw that the car was still wrecked, so I closed my eyes, squinted real hard, and prayed again, “Dear God, it didn’t happen.” Then I opened my eyes, but it happened anyway.

“He hath made us accepted in the beloved” (Eph. 1:6).

Years ago I was preaching in the small town of Roosevelt, Washington, on the north bank of the Columbia River. I was the guest of friends who were sheep-raisers. It was lambing time and every morning we went out to see the lambs—hundreds of them—playing about on the green. One morning I was startled to see an old ewe go loping across the road, followed by the strangest looking lamb I had ever beheld. It apparently had six legs, and the skin seemed to be partially torn from its body in a way that made me feel the poor little creature must be suffering terribly. But when one of the herders caught the lamb and brought it over to me, the mystery was explained. That lamb did not really belong originally to that ewe. She had a lamb which was bitten by a rattlesnake and died. This lamb that I saw was an orphan and needed a mother’s care. But at first the bereft ewe refused to have anything to do with it. She sniffed at it when it was brought to her, then pushed it away, saying as plainly as a sheep could say it, “That is not our family odor!” So the herders skinned the lamb that had died and very carefully drew the fleece over the living lamb. This left the hind-leg coverings dragging loose. Thus covered, the lamb was brought again to the ewe. She smelled it once more and this time seemed thoroughly satisfied and adopted it as her own.

It seemed to me to be a beautiful picture of the grace of God to sinners. We are all outcasts and have no claim upon His love. But God’s own Son, the “Lamb of God that taketh away the sin of the World,” has died for us and now we who believe are dressed up in the fleece of the Lamb who died. Thus, God has accepted us in Him, and “there is therefore now no condemnation to them which are in Christ Jesus.” We are as dear to the heart of the Father as His own holy, spotless Son.

“So dear, so very dear to God,

More dear I cannot be;

The love wherewith He loves His Son,

Such is His love to me.

So near, so very near to God,

Nearer I could not be,

For in the person of His Son,

I am as near as He.”

In the forests of Northern Europe lives the ermine, a small animal known best for its snow-white fur. Instinctively, this animal protects its glossy coat of fur with great care lest it become soiled.

Hunters often capitalize on this trait. Instead of setting a mechanical trap to catch the ermine, they find its home in a cleft of a rock or a hollow tree and daub the entrance and the interior with tar. Then their dogs start the chase, and the frightened ermine flees toward its home. But finding it covered with dirt, he spurns his place of safety. Rather than soil his white fur, he courageously faces the yelping dogs who hold him at bay until the hunters capture him. To the ermine, purity is dearer than life!

The Lord wants us to be a people who will keep ourselves "unspotted from the world."

If you live in a graveyard too long you stop crying when someone dies.

It's a flip saying, but true: death and taxes are the two things we can count on. But there is a difference: we know on what day the taxes fall due; we can't predict the day of death. We can put money aside to take care of taxes; but what provision can we make in anticipation of death? If we die before our taxes are paid, they'll not be forgiven. The government will take them out of our estate. If we die as unrepentant sinners, our sins will not be forgiven after death. We'll have to pay the penalty for them hereafter. But there is a difference: God has made a way of escape for us. He has already paid the penalty for our sins-yours and mine. All He asks is that you accept what He has done for you in a true spirit of repentance and faith.

David Brainerd, pioneer missionary to the American Indians, lay ill. Plagued by health problems throughout his life, Brainerd was facing death at the age of only 29.

With his affairs in order, Brainerd was eager to join his Lord: “O, why is his chariot so long in coming? I long to be in heaven, praising and glorifying God with the holy angels.”

On October 9, he passed from this life to the next.

On his death bed, the German poet Heinrich Heine said this, and then no more: “God will pardon me...It’s his job...”

When Thomas Hooker lay dying, a friend said, “Brother, are you going to receive the reward of your labors.” He humbly replied, “Brother, I am going to receive mercy.”

“Last words are for fools who haven’t said enough.” (Karl Marx, to his housekeeper when she asked if he had a final message.)

A farmer took his little son on a visit to a distant village. Along the way they came to a swift stream spanned by a rickety old bridge which frightened the little lad even though it was daylight. Returning at dusk, the boy recalled the stream and old bridge and became panicky. How would they cross that turbulent stream in the dark? Noting his anxiety, the father lifted the boy and carried him in his arms. Before they reached the bridge, he was fast asleep against his father's shoulder. As the next morning's sun streamed in his bedroom window, the boy awoke to discover he was safe at home. At death the believer falls asleep in the Savior's arms to awaken in His bright land of no night and no fear.

[A letter written to one's physical body.] 1Co 15:44.

"You and I have been together for a long time in a most intimate and valuable relationship. Now you have grown old. Your hearing and strength are failing. Your resistance to cold is diminishing. You cannot climb and run as you once did. In a word, you are running down. In a short time you will cease to breathe and your heart will stop beating. When you can go no further, you will be returned to the substance of which you were made, and I shall continue on in that life where you are not needed. A Power greater than you and I started us on this journey together. Now I recognize that you are aware of the fact that your journey is nearing its end, while my journey has scarcely begun. I know this to be true, for while you are feeble, I have never been more alive. Our separation, therefore, cannot be one of sadness, but will be one of joy. You are weary and want to stop. I am longing to alight from this slowing vehicle and go on without you. Death will mean that your desire to stop is granted, and my longing is satisfied."

A little girl whose baby brother had just died asked her mother where Baby had gone. "To be with Jesus," replied the mother. A few days later, talking to a friend, the mother said, "I am so grieved to have lost my baby." The little girl heard her, and remembering what her mother had told her, looked up into her face and asked, "Mother, is a thing lost when you know where it is?"

"No, of course not." "Well, then how can Baby be lost when he has gone to be with Jesus?" Her mother never forgot this. It was the truth.

When you have had a loved one go to be with the Lord, do not feel like you’re the only person who has had this experience.

There is an Eastern legend about a Hindu woman whose only child had died. She went to a prophet to ask for her child back. The prophet told her to go and obtain a handful of rice from a house into which death had not come. If she could obtain the rice in this way, he promised to give her the child back. From door to door she asked the question, “Are you all here around the table—father, mother, children—none missing?” But always the answer came back that there were empty chairs in each house. As she continued on, her grief and sorrow softened as she found that death had visited all families. yes, death is universal; our painful experience is not the only one of its kind. Because God is faithful, because Jesus Christ is alive, so is your loved one and mine.

Cicero, a Roman orator and politician who lived before Christ, said: "I am persuaded that my friends who have departed this life have not ceased to exist. In reality only their present condition can be called life. I adopt this faith not only because logic demands it but also because my respect for the most noble and distinguished philosophers bids me do so. I consider this world a place for nature but never foreordained to be my home forever. My departure from this world I never deem as an expulsion from my dwelling place but rather as the departure from my hotel." Even a pre-Christian era Roman knew that death doesn't end all.

A friend of mine, Dave Johnson, is a policeman in San Jose, California. One morning, he was called to the scene of a family disturbance. When he arrived, he found another family that would soon be added to the casualty list. “The woman was crying and yelling at her husband who was standing with his hands in the pockets of greasy overalls. I noticed homemade tattoos on his arm, usually a sign that someone had been in prison. I was glad that my “fill unit” had arrived.

I stepped from my patrol car. As I walked towards the two I could hear the woman yelling at her husband to fix whatever he had done to the car so she could leave. He made no reply, but only laughed at her with a contemptuous laugh. She turned to me and asked me to make him fix the car. My fill unit broke in and we “split” the two up so that we could find a solution to the problem. I began talking to the husband who said that his wife was having an affair and she was leaving. I asked him if they had gone for counseling and he said that he was not interested. He went on to say that he was interested in only getting his “things” back. He said that his wife had hidden them from him.

I asked his wife about his things and she said she wouldn’t give them to him until she got one of the three VCRs they owned. I found out later that his “things” consisted of the narcotics he dealt in. The other officer went to the wife’s car and began looking under the hood to see if he could spot the trouble. The husband walked over, took the coil from his pocket, and handed it to the officer. He then told his wife that she could have one of the VCRs if he could have his things. She finally agreed and went into the house.

As she entered the house, I noticed two little girls standing in the doorway, watching the drama unfold. They were about eight and ten years old. Both wore dresses and clung to a Cabbage Patch doll. At their feet were two small suitcases. My eyes couldn’t leave their faces as they watched the two people they loved tear each other apart. The woman emerged with the VCR in her arms and went to the car where she put in into the crowded back seat. She turned and told her husband where he could find his things. They both agreed that they had equal shares of the things they had accumulated in 10 years of marriage.

Then as I stood in unbelief, I watched the husband point to the two little girls and say to the wife, “Well, which one do you want?” Without any apparent emotion, the mother chose the older one. The girls looked at each other as the older one picked up her suitcase and then climbed into her mother’s car. I had to stand and watch as the littlest girl, still clutching her Cabbage Patch doll in one hand and her suitcase in the other, watched her big sister and her mother drive off. I watched as tears streamed down her face in total bewilderment. The only “comfort” she received was an order from her father to go into the house as he turned to talk with some friends. There I stood, the unwilling witness to the death of a family.

Funerals of pastors are solemn affairs. At times when I attend one, however, I am struck by a strange kind of irony. After a lifetime of ministry supposedly focused on grace, we bring the poor soul to his grave with eloquent eulogies and high tributes that give the lie to it all. All the deceased’s good works are magnificent and, of course, all shortcomings passed over. I am often reminded at such times of Lincoln’s remark at the burial of one of his generals: “If he had known he’d get a funeral like this, he’d have died much sooner.”

The poet, James Whitcomb Riley, has a poem in which he tells of the death of a worker in a shop. He pictures his fellow workmen standing around on the day of his funeral talking about him. One man, tears in his eyes after saying some complimentary things, added, “When God made him, I bet He didn’t do anything else that day just set around and feel good.”

Matthew suffered martyrdom by being slain with a sword at a distant city of Ethiopia.

Mark expired at Alexandria, after being cruelly dragged through the streets of that city.

Luke was hanged upon an olive tree in the classic land of Greece.

John was put in a caldron of boiling oil, but escaped death in a miraculous manner, and was afterward banished to Patmos.

Peter was crucified at Rome with his head downward.

James, the Greater, was beheaded at Jerusalem.

James, the Less, was thrown from a lofty pinnacle of the temple, and then beaten to death with a fuller’s club.

Bartholomew was flayed alive.

Andrew was bound to a cross, whence he preached to his persecutors until he died.

Thomas was run through the body with a lance at Coromandel in the East Indies.

Jude was shot to death with arrows.

Matthais was first stoned and then beheaded.

Barnabas of the Gentiles was stoned to death at Salonica.

Paul, after various tortures and persecutions, was at length beheaded at Rome by the Emperor Nero.

A young man cowered in the corner of a dirty, roach-infested death row cell in a South Carolina prison. His body curled in a fetal position, he seemed oblivious to the filth and stench around him. His name was Rusty, and he was sentenced to die for the murder of a Myrtle Beach woman in a crime spree that left four people dead.

Police arrested twenty-three-year-old Rusty Welborn from Point Pleasant, West Virginia in 1979, following one of the most brutal slayings in South Carolina history. Rusty was tried for murder and received the death penalty for his crime. Bob McAlister, deputy chief of staff to South Carolina’s governor, became acquainted with Rusty on death row. Bob had become a Christian a year or so earlier and felt a strong call from God to minister to the state’s inmates—especially those spending their last days on death row.

Bob’s first look at Rusty revealed a pitiful sight. Rusty was lying on the floor when he arrived, a pathetic picture of a man who believed he mattered to no one. The only signs of life in the cell were the roaches who scurried over everything, including Rusty himself. He made no effort to move or even to brush the insects away. He stared blankly at Bob as he began to talk, but did not respond.

During visit after visit, Bob tried to reach Rusty, telling him of the love Jesus had for him and of his opportunity—even on death row—to start a new life in Christ. He talked and prayed continuously, and finally Rusty began to respond to the stranger who kept invading his cell. Little by little, he opened up, until one day he began to weep as Bob was sharing with him. On that day, Rusty Welborn, a pitiful man with murder and darkness behind him and his own death closing in ahead of him, gave his heart to Jesus Christ.

When Bob returned to Rusty’s cell a few days later, he found a new man. The cell was clean and so was Rusty. He had renewed energy and a positive outlook on life. McAlister continued to visit him regularly, studying the Bible and praying with him. The two men became close friends over the next five years. In fact, McAlister said that Rusty grew into the son he never had, and as for Rusty, he had taken to calling McAlister “Pap.”

Bob learned that Rusty’s childhood in West Virginia had been anything but “almost heaven.” His family was destitute, and Rusty was neglected and abused as a youngster. School was an ordeal both for him and for his teachers. Throughout his junior high years he wore the same two pair of pants and two ragged shirts. Out of shame, frustration, and a lack of adult guidance, Rusty quit school in his ninth grade year, a decision that was to be just the beginning of his troubles. His teenage years were full of turmoil as he was kicked out of his home many times and ran away countless others. He spent the better part of his youth living under bridges and in public rest rooms.

Bob taught Rusty the Bible, but Rusty was the teacher when it came to love and forgiveness. This young man who had never known real love was amazed and thrilled about the love of God. He never ceased to be surprised that other people could actually love someone like him through Jesus Christ. Rusty’s childlike enthusiasm was a breath of fresh air to Bob, who came to realize how much he had taken for granted, especially with regard to the love of his family and friends.

In time Rusty became extremely bothered by the devastating pain he had caused the family and friends of his victim. Knowing that God had forgiven him, he desperately wanted the forgiveness of those he had wronged. Then a most significant thing happened: the brother of the woman Rusty had murdered became a Christian. God had dealt with him for two years about his need to forgive his sister’s killer. Finally, he wrote Rusty a letter that offered not only forgiveness but love in Christ.

Not long before his scheduled execution, this brother and his wife came to visit Rusty. Bob was present when the two men met and tearfully embraced like long-lost brothers finally reunited. Rusty’s senseless crime ten years earlier had constructed an enormous barrier between himself and the brother. The love of Christ obliterated that barrier and enabled both men to realize that, because of Him, they truly were brothers reunited on that day. It was a lesson Bob would not forget.

Not only did Rusty teach Bob McAlister how to love and forgive, he also taught him a powerful lesson about how to die. As the appointed day approached, Rusty exhibited a calm and assurance like Bob had never seen. Only his final day, with only hours remaining before his 1:00 A.M. execution, Rusty asked McAlister to read to him from the Bible. After an hour or so of listening, Rusty sat up on the side of his cot and said, “You know, the only thing I ever wanted was a home, Pap. Now I’m going to get one.”

Bob continued his reading, and after a few minutes Rusty grew very still. Thinking he had fallen asleep, Bob placed a blanket over him and closed the Bible. As he turned to leave he felt a strong compulsion to lean over and kiss Rusty on the forehead. A short time later, Rusty Welborn was executed for murder. A woman assisting Rusty in his last moments shared this postscript to his story: As he was being prepared for his death, Rusty looked at her and said, “What a shame that a man’s gotta wait ‘til his last night alive to be kissed and tucked in for the very first time.”

A young man cowered in the corner of a dirty, roach-infested death row cell in a South Carolina prison. His body curled in a fetal position, he seemed oblivious to the filth and stench around him. His name was Rusty, and he was sentenced to die for the murder of a Myrtle Beach woman in a crime spree that left four people dead.

Police arrested twenty-three-year-old Rusty Welborn from Point Pleasant, West Virginia in 1979, following one of the most brutal slayings in South Carolina history. Rusty was tried for murder and received the death penalty for his crime. Bob McAlister, deputy chief of staff to South Carolina’s governor, became acquainted with Rusty on death row. Bob had become a Christian a year or so earlier and felt a strong call from God to minister to the state’s inmates—especially those spending their last days on death row.

Bob’s first look at Rusty revealed a pitiful sight. Rusty was lying on the floor when he arrived, a pathetic picture of a man who believed he mattered to no one. The only signs of life in the cell were the roaches who scurried over everything, including Rusty himself. He made no effort to move or even to brush the insects away. He stared blankly at Bob as he began to talk, but did not respond.

During visit after visit, Bob tried to reach Rusty, telling him of the love Jesus had for him and of his opportunity—even on death row—to start a new life in Christ. He talked and prayed continuously, and finally Rusty began to respond to the stranger who kept invading his cell. Little by little, he opened up, until one day he began to weep as Bob was sharing with him. On that day, Rusty Welborn, a pitiful man with murder and darkness behind him and his own death closing in ahead of him, gave his heart to Jesus Christ.

When Bob returned to Rusty’s cell a few days later, he found a new man. The cell was clean and so was Rusty. He had renewed energy and a positive outlook on life. McAlister continued to visit him regularly, studying the Bible and praying with him. The two men became close friends over the next five years. In fact, McAlister said that Rusty grew into the son he never had, and as for Rusty, he had taken to calling McAlister “Pap.”

Bob learned that Rusty’s childhood in West Virginia had been anything but “almost heaven.” His family was destitute, and Rusty was neglected and abused as a youngster. School was an ordeal both for him and for his teachers. Throughout his junior high years he wore the same two pair of pants and two ragged shirts. Out of shame, frustration, and a lack of adult guidance, Rusty quit school in his ninth grade year, a decision that was to be just the beginning of his troubles. His teenage years were full of turmoil as he was kicked out of his home many times and ran away countless others. He spent the better part of his youth living under bridges and in public rest rooms.

Bob taught Rusty the Bible, but Rusty was the teacher when it came to love and forgiveness. This young man who had never known real love was amazed and thrilled about the love of God. He never ceased to be surprised that other people could actually love someone like him through Jesus Christ. Rusty’s childlike enthusiasm was a breath of fresh air to Bob, who came to realize how much he had taken for granted, especially with regard to the love of his family and friends.

In time Rusty became extremely bothered by the devastating pain he had caused the family and friends of his victim. Knowing that God had forgiven him, he desperately wanted the forgiveness of those he had wronged. Then a most significant thing happened: the brother of the woman Rusty had murdered became a Christian. God had dealt with him for two years about his need to forgive his sister’s killer. Finally, he wrote Rusty a letter that offered not only forgiveness but love in Christ.

Not long before his scheduled execution, this brother and his wife came to visit Rusty. Bob was present when the two men met and tearfully embraced like long-lost brothers finally reunited. Rusty’s senseless crime ten years earlier had constructed an enormous barrier between himself and the brother. The love of Christ obliterated that barrier and enabled both men to realize that, because of Him, they truly were brothers reunited on that day. It was a lesson Bob would not forget.

Not only did Rusty teach Bob McAlister how to love and forgive, he also taught him a powerful lesson about how to die. As the appointed day approached, Rusty exhibited a calm and assurance like Bob had never seen. Only his final day, with only hours remaining before his 1:00 A.M. execution, Rusty asked McAlister to read to him from the Bible. After an hour or so of listening, Rusty sat up on the side of his cot and said, “You know, the only thing I ever wanted was a home, Pap. Now I’m going to get one.”

Bob continued his reading, and after a few minutes Rusty grew very still. Thinking he had fallen asleep, Bob placed a blanket over him and closed the Bible. As he turned to leave he felt a strong compulsion to lean over and kiss Rusty on the forehead. A short time later, Rusty Welborn was executed for murder. A woman assisting Rusty in his last moments shared this postscript to his story: As he was being prepared for his death, Rusty looked at her and said, “What a shame that a man’s gotta wait ‘til his last night alive to be kissed and tucked in for the very first time.”

He was 25 and had already captured the hearts of Russia with his novel Poor Folk. Fame quickly went to his head. He drank immoderately and partied wildly. He carelessly criticized the Czarist regime. You did not to that in Czarist Russia. He was arrested in St. Petersburg and sentenced to death by the firing squad along with several other dissidents. It was a cold December morning. Dressed in a white execution gown, he was led to the wall of the prison courtyard with the others. Blindfolded, he waited for the last sound he would hear, the crack of a pistol echoing off the prison walls.

Instead he heard fast paced footsteps; then the announcement that the Czar had commuted his sentence to ten years of hard labor. So intense was that moment that he suffered an epileptic seizure, something he would live with the rest of his life. In that Siberian prison Fyodor Dostoevsky was allowed only a New Testament to read. There he discovered something more wonderful, more true than his socialistic ideals. He met Christ, and his heart was changed.

Upon leaving prison he wrote to a friend who had helped him grow in Christ, “To believe that there is nothing more beautiful, more profound, more sympathetic, more reasonable, more manly and more perfect than Christ. And not only is there nothing but I tell myself with jealous love that there can be nothing. Besides, if anyone proved to me that Christ was outside the truth and it really was so that the truth was outside Christ, then I would prefer to remain with Christ, than with the truth.”

Dostoevsky returned to civilian life. He wrote feverishly and produced his prison memories, The House of the Dead, and then Crime and Punishment, followed by many other major works. Yet his church attendance was sporadic, and he never grew as a Christian. He neglected Bible study and the fellowship of other believers. No Christian took him under his wing to disciple him. He began to drink. He gambled. Excessive drinking and compulsive gambling unraveled his life so that he died penniless and wasted. He felt prison with his flame lit for Christ and died with nothing more than smoldering embers. The tragedy of Fyodor Dostoevsky is not so much what he became but what he could have become for Christ.

In the words of the poet, “of all sad words of tongue or pen, the saddest are these: ‘It might have been.’“

John Climacus, a seventh-century ascetic who wrote Ladder of Divine Ascent, urged Christians to use the reality of death to their benefit: “You cannot pass a day devoutly unless you think of it as your last,” he wrote. He called the thought of death the “most essential of all works” and a gift from God. “The man who lives daily with the thought of death is to be admired, and the man who gives himself to it by the hour is surely a saint.” “A man who has heard himself sentenced to death will not worry about the way theatres are run.”

The death of Soviet dictator Joseph Stalin is reputed to have been caused by a seizure suffered at a meeting of the Presidium, the Communist party executive committee. Livid with fury, Stalin leaped from his seat, only to crash to the floor unconscious. While other Presidium members stared at the prone figure, scheming bureaucrat Laverenti Beria jumped up and danced around the body shouting, “We’re free at last! Free at last!” But as Stalin’s daughter forced her way into the room and fell on her knees by her father, the dictator stirred and opened one eye. Beria at once dropped down beside Stalin, seized his hand, and covered it with kisses.

A woman, enlarging on her husband's inconsistencies, said, "At a theologically liberal meeting he's a liberal and at a conservative meeting he's a conservative." Someone asked, "What is he at home?" She replied with emphasis, "He's a real demon!"

The deceitfulness of sin is vividly seen in the life of the French philosopher Rousseau. He declared, “No man can come to the throne of God and say, ‘I’m a better man than Rousseau.’” When he knew death was close at hand, he boasted, “Ah, how happy a thing it is to die, when one has no reason for remorse or self-reproach.” Then he prayed, “Eternal Being, the soul that I am going to give Thee back is as pure at this moment as it was when it proceeded from Thee; render it a partaker of Thy felicity!”

This is an amazing statement when we realize that Rousseau didn’t profess to be born again. In his writings he advocated adultery and suicide, and for more than 20 years he lived in licentiousness. Most of his children were born out of wedlock and sent to a foundling home. He was mean, treacherous, hypocritical, and blasphemous.

“We are inclined to believe those whom we do not know because they have never deceived us.” - Samuel Johnson

Pastor and author Bob Smith lists some of our self-deceptions: “Others have prejudices, but we have convictions. Others are conceited, but in me it’s self-respect. When you spend time on your personal appearance, it’s vanity; in me, it’s just making the most of my God-given assets. In you, it’s touchiness; but in me, it’s sensitivity. In you, it’s worry; in me, concern.”

Through its laws, our country declares it a crime to lie about the contents in a box of cereal. These laws demand that the outside of the package tell the truth about what is on the inside. Deceptive packaging is illegal. "Truth in advertising" regulations are another way to protect the public. A good example of this is the warning on a pack of cigarettes: "Smoking causes lung cancer, heart disease, emphysema, and may complicate pregnancy."

Unfortunately, there are no such laws about people. We require no one to tell what really lies behind the packaging-the clothes, facial expressions, mannerisms, speech patterns, or affected behavior. No one is forced to tell you what he or she is really feeling, thinking, or planning to do.

Our deceptive packaging-the way we appear to others-is an accepted, even an expected part of our way of life. We have become experts in this type of trickery. Before we are going to get the help we need, we need to confess this sin of hypocrisy. Only then can we go on the path of discovering and knowing our real selves.

Once to every man and nation

Comes the moment to decide

In the strife of truth or falsehood

For the good or evil side.

But to every man there openeth

A high way and a low

And every man decideth

Which way his soul shall go.

- James Russell Lowell

During the early days of the ministry of Dwight L. Moody, the great evangelist launched a series of meetings in Chicago with promise of the largest crowds that he had ever addressed up to that time. He was speaking of the life of Christ, and on the first Sunday night, October 8, 1871, he took as his topic the trial before Pilate. As he came to the end of his message, he turned to Mat_27:22, "What shall I do then with Jesus, who is called Christ?" He concluded, "I wish you would take this text home with you and turn it over in your minds during the week, and next Sabbath we will come to Calvary and the cross, and we will decide what to do with Jesus of Nazareth."

It may have been an artistic device. But speaking of it in later years, Moody called that conclusion to his morning's address the greatest mistake of his life. Even while Mr. Sankey was singing the final hymn:

We’ve seen a dramatic decline in national morality since 1963: This is God’s judgment on a nation:

Unwed birth rates 15-19 yr. olds shot up.

Unwed birth rates 10-14 yr. olds shot up 553% by 1983.

Sexually Transmitted Disease rates 15-19 yr. olds shot up 226% by 1975.

Divorce had been declining for 15 consecutive years prior to 1963. After, the number of divorces tripled every year until 1983.

SAT scores declined for 18 consecutive years after 1963; unprecedented in our history. We are now graduating a generation of students that, academically, knows less that their parents.

Violent crime up 544%.

In Charles Swindoll’s new book, The Quest for Character (Multnomah),

“sociologist and historian Carl Zimmerman, in his 1947 book Family and Civilization, recorded his keen observations as he compared the disintegration of various cultures with the parallel decline of family life in those cultures. Eight specific patterns of domestic behavior typified the downward spiral of each culture Zimmerman studied: Marriage loses its sacredness...is frequently broken by divorce; traditional meaning of the marriage ceremony is lost; feminist movements abound; there is increased public disrespect for parents and authority in general; an acceleration of juvenile delinquency, promiscuity and rebellion occurs; there is refusal of people with traditional marriages to accept family responsibilities; a growing desire for, and acceptance of, adultery is evident; there is increasing interest in, and spread of, sexual perversions and sex-related crimes.”

There are many people today who are religiously decorated. These decorations deceive the owners into believing they are Christians, that they are born-again believers. They have bought some religious pictures or other items. They hang up pictures of saints or one of Jesus Christ knocking at the closed door, but they have never opened their own door to Christ. They have no love for the cross of Christ, but they may have a very handsome crucifix hanging on the wall, or even a cross on a chain hanging around their necks. They may be garnished with generosity, giving their tithes to the church but withholding their hearts from Jesus Christ. The Bible is on the table or in the bookcase, but it is never read. These are the decorations of religion that the Lord is speaking about. People may pray long-winded prayers, show zeal, go to church, volunteer to cut the church lawn, yet these may only be the decorations of an empty heart.

Melvin Harper is manager of an eight-thousand-acre buckeye ranch and rice farm near Bay City, Texas. "Lord, send me cowboys who aren't Christians," is his daily prayer. Why? Because encouraging cowboys and youngsters to live for Christ is a kind of divine calling for the man who was the nation's top bronco buster and steer rider for more than ten years. Through the personal interest of a pastor who began visiting Harper at the ranch so he could learn to ride and handle cattle, the veteran rodeo performer started attending church regularly and finally made his decision for Christ. Soon he began teaching a class of boys, but he doubts that he was doing much witnessing for Christ.

A new pastor came to the church, so one day the rugged ranch manager went by to see him. Their conversation soon turned to religion. Melvin asked his new pastor, "Do you believe in the Lord?" After receiving a quick and affirmative answer, Melvin continued, "Then if me and you prayed to God, believed in Christ, and asked for something, would we get it?" The prayer that followed is one which Pastor Eaves will never forget. Melvin and his pastor prayed that God would let him become a soul-winner.

Melvin didn't sleep much that night. At four o'clock in the morning he was fully dressed and on his way to the home of a lost friend. He arrived before daylight and prayed as he waited in a pick-up truck for the lights to come on in the house. The friend was won to Christ; that was only the beginning. Melvin's pastor estimates that he has already won more than fifty people to the Lord. Five cowboys at the ranch have become Christians, and in his Sunday school class of thirteen-year-old boys, twenty-four have accepted Christ in one year.

When asked about the greatest thrill of his life, Melvin told about the year when he was the only rider to stay mounted on the nation's wildest and best bucking rodeo horse in Madison Square Garden and in Houston. "But," said Melvin, "this kind of thrill doesn't compare with winning a boy, his parents, and a cowhand to Christ."

A. Parnell Bailey visited an orange grove where an irrigation pump had broken down. The season was unusually dry and some of the trees were beginning to die for lack of water. The man giving the tour then took Bailey to his own orchard where irrigation was used sparingly. “These trees could go without rain for another 2 weeks,” he said. “You see, when they were young, I frequently kept water from them. This hardship caused them to send their roots deeper into the soil in search of moisture. Now mine are the deepest-rooted trees in the area. While others are being scorched by the sun, these are finding moisture at a greater depth.”

The central significance of prayer is not in the things that happen as results, but in the deepening intimacy and unhurried communion with God at His central throne of control in order to discover a “sense of God’s need in order to call on God’s help to meet that need” (E. M. Bounds, The Weapon Of Prayer). Prayer is first a Theocentric tryst, not just an egocentric quest; yet this is often what we make of it. To quote Florence Allshorn, “We still struggle to put Him first in a vague and limited way. I must pray till Jesus Christ hears me and gives me what I need. I am important, the great “I.” We must not miss the great truth that I am for Him primarily. It is a soul-shaking fact that I am not looking into some far-off sky where Someone is hidden to whom I cry;…but that He Himself has said “There is a place by my side.” I must see from there or I will not see; I must look at things from His standpoint…”