Pastoral Resources

Novelist and essayist George A. Birmingham was in his nonliterary life a clergyman in Ireland where he was pestered by bishops and other authorities to fill in recurring questionnaires. He took particular umbrage against the annual demand from the education office to report the dimensions of his village schoolroom. In the first and second years, he duly filled in the required figures. The third year he replied that the schoolroom was still the same size. The education office badgered him with reminders until Birmingham finally filled in the figures. This time he doubled the dimensions of his schoolroom. Nobody queried it. So he went on doubling the measurements until “in the course of five or six years that schoolroom became a great deal larger than St. Paul’s Cathedral.” But nobody at the education office was at all concerned. So, the next year, Birmingham suddenly reduced the dimensions of his colossal classroom “to the size of an American tourist trunk. It would have been impossible to get three children in that schoolroom.” And nobody took the slightest notice, for nobody needed the information. But the system did, and the system had to be satisfied.

In CONTEXT, Mary Marty retells a parable from the EYE OF THE NEEDLE newsletter:

“A holy man was engaged in his morning meditation under a tree whose roots stretched out over the riverbank. During his meditation he noticed that the river was rising, and a scorpion caught in the roots was about to drown. He crawled out on the roots and reached down to free the scorpion, but every time he did so, the scorpion struck back at him.

“An observer came along and said to the holy man, ‘Don’t you know that’s a scorpion, and it’s in the nature of a scorpion to want to sting?’

“To which the holy man replied, ‘That may well be, but it is my nature to save, and must I change my nature because the scorpion does not change its nature?”

Joseph B. Modica

There is no place I have ever been in where people so thoroughly understand their Bibles as in Scotland. Why, little boys could quote Scripture and take me up on a text. They have the whole nation just educated, as it were, with the Word of God. Infidelity cannot come there. A man got up in Glasgow, at a corner, and began to preach universal salvation. "Oh, sir," said an old woman, "that will never save the like of me." She had heard enough preaching to know that it would never save her. If a man comes among them with any false doctrine, these Scotchmen instantly draw their Bibles on him. I had to keep my eyes open and be careful what I said there. They knew their Bibles a good deal better than I did. And so if the preachers could get the people to read the Word of God more carefully, and note what they heard, there would not be so much infidelity among us.

There is a story told of an incident that occurred during the last Indian mutiny. The English were besieged in the city of Lucknow, and were in momentary expectation of perishing at the hands of the fiends that surrounded them. There was a little Scotch lassie in this fort, and, while lying on the ground, she suddenly shouted, her face aglow with joy, "Dinna ye hear them comin'; dinna ye hear them comin'?" "Hear what?" they asked, "Dinna ye hear them comin?" And she sprang to her feet. It was the bagpipes of her native Scotland she heard. It was a native air she heard that was being played by a regiment of her countrymen marching to the relief of those captives, and these deliverers made them free. Oh, my friends, don't you hear Jesus Christ crying to you to-night?

There is a story of Dr. Chalmers. A lady came to him and said: "Doctor, I cannot bring my child to Christ. I've talked, and talked, but it's of no use." The Doctor thought she had not much skill, and said, "Now you be quiet and I will talk to her alone." When the Doctor got the Scotch lassie alone he said to her, "They are bothering you a good deal about this question; now suppose I just tell your mother you don't want to be talked to any more upon this subject for a year. How will that do?" Well, the Scotch lassie hesitated a little, and then said she "didn't think it would be safe to wait for a year. Something might turn up. She might die before then." "Well, that's so," replied the doctor, "but suppose we say six months." She didn't think even this would be safe. "That's so," was the doctors reply; "well, let us say three months." After a little hesitation, the girl finally said, "I don't think it would be safe to put it off for three months--don't think it would be safe to put it off at all," and they went down on their knees and found Christ.

There is one item in the account of the crucifixion and resurrection of the Lord Jesus Christ that is seldom, if ever, referred to in any depth, namely, His seamless robe. In John's Gospel it says, "...the coat was without seam, woven from the top throughout" (Joh_19:23).

In the Bible, garments speak of conduct or of a display of character. A good example is "be clothed with humility" (1Pe_5:5). What precious truths about Jesus can we learn as seen in His seamless robe?

Our Lord was flawless and absolutely beyond reproach in His character. He is "holy, harmless, undefiled, separate from sinners, and made higher than the heavens" (Heb_7:26). There is no seam dividing His meekness from His anger, His gentleness from His firmness. His authority from His winsomeness, or His mercy from His sincerity. He is uniquely beautiful in His character. The robe is all one piece!

We see Him compassionate, but inflexible; full of truth, yet full of grace; come to save, yet come for judgment; eating in the upper room, yet sitting at the table with publicans and sinners.

All is done with uniform consistency. Nothing is ever out of perspective. Power is without pride, knowledge is without superiority, and authority is without arrogance. Yes, His robe is woven on the loom of eternity.

John last saw that seamless robe in the hands of gamblers near the cross. How he must have been stirred when he was in the Spirit on the Lord's Day and saw Jesus "clothed with a garment down to the foot" with the name upon it "KING OF KINGS, AND LORD OF LORDS" (Rev_1:13, Rev_19:16).

As we, His redeemed, are "clothed ...with the garments of salvation" and covered "with the robe of righteousness" (Isa_61:10), let us fall at His feet during this time of resurrection remembrance to worship, praise, and cry out to God for an experience of "the power of His resurrection" in order that we might be genuine reflectors of the wondrous character of our Lord Jesus Christ.

The cross is the great symbol of Christianity. On steeples atop churches, covers of hymnals, lids for communion ware and lapel pins on Sunday jackets, it stands an awesome reminder of all that Jesus suffered. Jesus spoke of the cross as a symbol of Christian dedication. "Whosoever will come after Me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow Me" (Mar 8:34).

But Jesus also used another symbol for Christian commitment."Take My yoke upon you and learn of Me...My yoke is easy and My burden is light" (Mat 11:29-30). The yoke is a wooden harness tying two animals together to pull a load. Yokes are not usually painted on church buildings, or printed on the covers of Bibles, or worn as ornaments on neckchains. Maybe they should be. The yoke as much as the cross is a symbol of commitment to Jesus Christ.

Paul W. Powell, in The Complete Disciple elaborates:

"The cross and the yoke symbolize for us the two different aspects of commitment. The cross is an instrument of death; the yoke is an implement of toil. The cross is the symbol of sacrifice; the yoke is the symbol of service. The cross suggests blood; the yoke suggests sweat ...to be committed to Jesus Christ means that we are ready for either the yoke or the cross."

Let me suggest four lessons from the yoke:

SUBMISSION. "Take My yoke upon you." The Christian willingly submits to Jesus Christ as Lord and Master. "It is not in man that walketh to direct his steps." "Not my will but Thine be done."

OBEDIENCE: "And learn of me." The yoke suggests submission to a master who must be obeyed. Blessed is the man who "heareth these sayings of mine and doeth them."

SERVICE: "My burden is light." Compared to the burden of sin, the yoke of the Lord is easy. But the very idea of a yoke is that of pulling a load, of work, of service. Christians are to be ministers-servants. "Work for the night is coming."

FELLOWSHIP: "All ye that labor." We are not alone in Christ, but serving alongside those of like precious faith. Paul spoke of his "loyal yokefellow." A yoke harnesses two animals together so as to pull a load neither one could pull alone. "Bear ye one another's burdens."

As we follow Christ, let us take up our yoke as well as our cross, "serving the Lord."

The following article is based on a sermon by missionary Del Tarr who served fourteen years in West Africa with another mission agency. His story points out the price some people pay to sow the seed of the gospel in hard soil.

I was always perplexed by Psalm 126 until I went to the Sahel, that vast stretch of savanna more than four thousand miles wide just under the Sahara Desert. In the Sahel, all the moisture comes in a four month period: May, June, July, and August. After that, not a drop of rain falls for eight months. The ground cracks from dryness, and so do your hands and feet. The winds of the Sahara pick up the dust and throw it thousands of feet into the air. It then comes slowly drifting across West Africa as a fine grit. It gets inside your mouth. It gets inside your watch and stops it. The year’s food, of course, must all be grown in those four months. People grow sorghum or milo in small fields.

October and November...these are beautiful months. The granaries are full—the harvest has come. People sing and dance. They eat two meals a day. The sorghum is ground between two stones to make flour and then a mush with the consistency of yesterday’s Cream of Wheat. The sticky mush is eaten hot; they roll it into little balls between their fingers, drop it into a bit of sauce and then pop it into their mouths. The meal lies heavy on their stomachs so they can sleep.

December comes, and the granaries start to recede. Many families omit the morning meal. Certainly by January not one family in fifty is still eating two meals a day.

By February, the evening meal diminishes. The meal shrinks even more during March and children succumb to sickness. You don’t stay well on half a meal a day.

April is the month that haunts my memory. In it you hear the babies crying in the twilight. Most of the days are passed with only an evening cup of gruel. Then, inevitably, it happens. A six- or seven-year-old boy comes running to his father one day with sudden excitement. “Daddy! Daddy! We’ve got grain!” he shouts. “Son, you know we haven’t had grain for weeks.” “Yes, we have!” the boy insists. “Out in the hut where we keep the goats—there’s a leather sack hanging up on the wall—I reached up and put my hand down in there—Daddy, there’s grain in there! Give it to Mommy so she can make flour, and tonight our tummies can sleep!”

The father stands motionless. “Son, we can’t do that,” he softly explains. “That’s next year’s seed grain. It’s the only thing between us and starvation. We’re waiting for the rains, and then we must use it.”

The rains finally arrive in May, and when they do the young boy watches as his father takes the sack from the wall and does the most unreasonable thing imaginable. Instead of feeding his desperately weakened family, he goes to the field and with tears streaming down his face, he takes the precious seed and throws it away. He scatters it in the dirt! Why? Because he believes in the harvest.

The seed is his; he owns it. He can do anything with it he wants. The act of sowing it hurts so much that he cries. But as the African pastors say when they preach on Psalm 126, “Brother and sisters, this is God’s law of the harvest. Don’t expect to rejoice later on unless you have been willing to sow in tears.” And I want to ask you: How much would it cost you to sow in tears? I don’t mean just giving God something from your abundance, but finding a way to say, “I believe in the harvest, and therefore I will give what makes no sense. The world would call me unreasonable to do this—but I must sow regardless, in order that I may someday celebrate with songs of joy.”

You sow a seed by putting it into the ground. It must first die, and then it rewards you with a living plant. How does this take place? Can you or anyone else fully explain this philosophically, rationally? Do you refuse to eat the fruit of this seed until you know in minutest detail how it grows into a plant? Hardly. You accept the generating power of nature. When you sow wheat, you expect the same kind of plant to come up. But that plant does not contain every particle of matter that was in the seed. It contains the identity of the seed, but not the entire actual seed as it was put into the ground. Yet the plant resulting from that seed will produce seeds corresponding to that original seed, made of different and yet identical material particles. The plant in reality is that same seed which was placed in the ground, in different form. So will it be with your resurrection body. It will be the same body in the sense that it is your own body-yet no longer in the seed, so to speak, but the plant. When your soul leaves your body at death, that spiritless body is good for nothing but burial in the ground. There it can die and return to dust; and through death it will live again by God's power.

Following a campaign speech, a young man rushed up to Senator Everett Dirksen and said, “Senator, I wouldn’t vote for you if you were St. Peter!”

Dirksen eyed the young man for a moment, then said: “Son, if I were St. Peter, you couldn’t vote for me, because you wouldn’t be in my district.”

Years ago it was the custom in a certain theological college for the student who had preached a sermon in class to go into the principal's office next morning for a quiet talk about his work. On one such occasion, the revered and saintly old principal said to the young man before him, "It was a good sermon you gave yesterday; the truth you dealt with was well-arranged and well presented. But your sermon had one omission, a grave one. There was no word in it for a poor sinner like me."

Years ago it was the custom in a certain theological college for the student who had preached a sermon in class to go into the principal's office next morning for a quiet talk about his work. On one such occasion, the revered and saintly old principal said to the young man before him, "It was a good sermon you gave yesterday; the truth you dealt with was well-arranged and well presented. But your sermon had one omission, a grave one. There was no word in it for a poor sinner like me."

The seven ages of man: spills, drills, thrills, bills, ills, pills, wills. - Richard J. Needham,

The first wife of Dr. Donald Grey Barnhouse, a well known minister in Philadelphia, died from cancer while still in her thirties. All three of his children were under 12. Dr. Barnhouse had such victory that he decided to preach the funeral sermon himself. En route to the funeral they were overtaken by a large truck which, as it passed them, cast a large shadow over their car. He asked one of his children, "Would you rather be run over by that truck or its shadow?" "By the shadow, of course!" replied the 12-year-old daughter. "A shadow can't hurt you." With that answer Dr. Barnhouse said to his three motherless children, "Your mother has been overrun not by death, but by the shadow of death." At the funeral he spoke on Psalm 23, "Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me."

My former hopes are fled,

My terror now begins;

I feel, alas! that I am dead

In trespasses and sins.

Ah, whither shall I fly?

I hear the thunder roar;

The Law proclaims Destruction nigh,

And Vengeance at the door.

When I review my ways,

I dread impending doom;

But sure a friendly whisper says,

“Flee from the wrath to come.”

I see, or think I see,

A glimmering from afar;

A beam of day, that shines for me,

To save me from despair.

Forerunner of the sun,

It marks the pilgrim’s way;

I’ll gaze upon it while I run,

And watch the rising day.

One of the most beautiful of all Christmas stories was told by the American poet, Edwin Markham, about a cobbler, a godly man who made shoes in the old days. One night the cobbler dreamed that the next day Jesus was coming to visit him. The dream seemed so real that he got up very early the next morning and hurried to the woods, where he gathered green boughs to decorate his shop for the arrival of so great a Guest.

He waited all morning, but to his disappointment, his shop remained quiet, except for an old man who limped up to the door asking to come in for a few minutes of warmth. While the man was resting, the cobbler noticed that the old fellow's shoes were worn through. Touched, the cobbler took a new pair from his shelves and saw to it that the stranger was wearing them as he went on his way.

Throughout the afternoon the cobbler waited, but his only visitor was an elderly woman. He had seen her struggling under a heavy load of firewood, and he invited her, too, into his shop to rest. Then he discovered that for two days she had had nothing to eat; he saw to it that she had a nourishing meal before she went on her way.

As night began to fall, the cobbler heard a child crying outside his door. The child was lost and afraid. The cobbler went out, soothed the youngster's tears and, with the little hand in his, took the child home.

When he returned, the cobbler was sad. He was convinced that while he had been away he had missed the visit of his Lord. Now he lived through the moments as he had imagined them: the knock, the latch lifted, the radiant face, the offered cup. He would have kissed the hands where the nails had been, washed the feet where the spikes had entered. Then the Lord would have sat and talked to him.

In his anguish, the cobbler cried out, "Why is it, Lord, that Your feet delay. Have you forgotten that this was the day?" Then, soft in the silence a voice he heard:

"Lift up your heart for I kept My word.

Three times I came to your friendly door;

Three times My shadow was on your floor.

I was the man with the bruised feet.

I was the woman you gave food to eat,

I was the child on the homeless street."

Captain Levy, a believer from Philadelphia, was once asked how he could give so much to the Lord’s work and still possess great wealth. The Captain replied, “Oh, as I shovel it out, He shovels it in, and the Lord has a bigger shovel.”

A country merchant once visited New York. The thing that impressed him most was the magnificent and spotless show windows. On his return home he immediately cleaned up his unused show window and made it so attractive that he was soon doing nearly all the business in his town. Instead of failing in business, as he had at one time feared, he became the richest merchant of his county. The show window of the Christian is most important. It has to be attractive, but it must represent the truth; it must show that which can be produced in the storehouse. One of the hardest things for the Christian to do is to be truthful and honest in his showmanship, to let his tongue represent what is in his heart. Thus the argument of James runs: Now you have stated to the world that you are wise, that you possess wisdom, namely, Jesus Christ and His Spirit. Then show it by your good conduct.

A woman came into a milliner's store and wanted to have the trimming on her new hat changed, saying it had been placed on the wrong side. "But," said the saleslady, "the trimming is on the left side. That is where it ought to be." "It doesn't make any difference where it ought to be; it's got to be on the church side." "Church side!" gasped the astonished girl. "Yes, I sit next to the wall. I want it on the other side so the whole congregation can see it."

Africa’s Victoria Falls produces a cloud of mist that is often heavy enough to impair visibility. While I was walking the path that skirts the gorge into which the Zambezi River tumbles, I noticed a sign on the rim but could not make it out. Not wanting to miss whatever it might be noting, I slithered and slid through the mud out to the very brink only to read the message:

“Danger! Crumbling Edge.”

Only by happy coincidence did the names of the true authors of the song "Silent Night" come to light-thirty-six years after they wrote it.

The story begins in 1818 in a church in the little Austrian town of Oberndorf. Shortly before Christmas Eve, a mouse ate a hole in the leather bellows of the church organ, effectively silencing it. The itinerant organ mender was not due in town for months, and music was needed for the Christmas Eve service. In three and one-half hours, Franz Gruber, the organist, composed music for a poem written by Josef Mohr, a priest. It began "Stille Nacht, Heilige Nacht" ("Silent Night, Holy Night"). On Christmas Eve, the two men sang their composition accompanied by a guitar and children's chorus. They were a great success.

The following May, when the organ mender turned up, Gruber gave him a copy of the song, which the man then circulated in his travels. By 1831, thirteen years later, the Strasser family quartet was billing "Silent Night" one of their numbers, as a Tyrolean folk song by "authors unknown."

Time went by, and soon the now-popular song was being attributed to several famous composers. In 1854, the leader of the king's orchestra in Berlin wrote to the choir director of the Benedictine school in Salzburg, asking for a copy of "Silent Night" by Michael Haydn, brother of the more famous composer Franz Joseph Haydn. The choir director asked a student-who just happened to be Felix Gruber, Franz Gruber's son-to find a copy. And you can guess the rest.

A minister felt that the words he spoke from Sunday to Sunday were not bearing the fruit they should. One Saturday morning after he had finished writing his sermon, the thought occurred to him, "Perhaps I shoot too high. I will go down and see if Betty can understand it." Betty was a trusted kitchen helper. He went to the kitchen and called her to come and hear his sermon. She hesitated but came when he insisted. After he had read a few sentences he asked, "Do you understand that?" "No," she replied. He repeated the idea in simpler language and then asked her if she saw it. "I see it a little," she said. Again he simplified it. She saw it more clearly and showed deep interest but said to him, "Plane it down a little more." And once again he simplified it. Then she exclaimed with ecstasy, "Now I see it! Now I understand it!" He returned to his study and rewrote his sermon in the simple style that Betty could understand. On Sunday morning he went to church in fear and trembling lest his people should be contemptuous of his sermon but he fully resolved to try the experiment. To his surprise, he found he received better attention than ever before, and there were tears in the eyes of many of his congregation. From that time on, he changed his style of language and had no further cause to feel that his work was unsuccessful. Clarity of thought and expression do not rob our testimony of its depth and significance. A witness for Christ need never fear oversimplification.

Thomas Edison had a unique way of hiring engineers. He’d give the applicant a light bulb and ask, “How much water will it hold?”

There were two ways to find the answer. The first choice was to use gauges to measure all the angles of the bulb. Then with the measurements in hand, the engineer would calculate the surface area. This approach could take as long as twenty minutes.

The second choice was to fill the bulb with water and then pour the contents into a measuring cup. Total elapsed time: about a minute.

Engineers who took the first route, and performed their measurements by book, were thanked politely for their time and sent on their way. If you took the second route, you heard Edison say, “You’re hired.”

Until last week, when treasure hunters began hauling gold off the Atlantic floor, the sinking of the S.S. Central America about 200 miles east of Charleston, S.C., was one of the sea’s saddest but most forgotten events. Yet when the vessel went to the bottom 132 years ago this month, the tragedy shook America as much as the calamities that befell the Titanic in 1912 and the space shuttle Challenger in 1986. The nation spent the autumn of 1857 gripped by what Frank Leslie’s Illustrated Newspaper termed “The most unparalleled disaster that ever occurred on the sea.” It was indeed a rare story: A luxury steamship, loaded with people who got rich in the California gold rush plus 3 tons of the precious metal, plows into a hurricane that is making the ocean run “mountains high.” The ship springs a massive leak, and for 30 hours every man on board bails water, while women pray for the ordeal to end and children laugh as crockery cracks. Eventually, a small brig appears and takes on passengers—“women and children first”—until it can hold no more. Mary Swan hears her husband say, “Goodbye. I don’t know that I shall ever see you again.” He doesn’t. Some 420 people perish. Roughly 170 survive, many after tossing their bags of gold and hanging on to scraps of wood.

The story didn’t end there. New York banks, nearly bankrupt, had anxiously awaited the ship’s gold. The sinking caused bank failures across America, contributing to the panic of 1857. The salvaging of the wreck should enrich several dozen people around Columbus, Ohio. They invested $7 million in the Columbus-America Discovery Group, the high-tech partnership making the find. Their take could approach $500 million.

In the first moments of Monday, April 15th, 1912, many men and women sought their own best, sometimes at the expense of others. However, several seldom-celebrated individuals ignored that urge for mere self-preservation and followed a more ancient code. “Greater love has no one than this,” the New Testament tells us, “than he lay down his life for his friends.”

John “Jack” Phillips and Harold Bride had been working feverishly, trying to catch up on a huge backlog of passenger messages to be sent to the mainland via the wireless station at Cape Race, Newfoundland. The in-box was loaded with outgoing messages. It was no wonder they didn’t know the ship was in trouble.

The Titanic’s captain, E. J. Smith, poked his head in the wireless shack just after midnight. “We’ve struck an iceberg...,” the Captain announced. “You better get ready to send out a call for assistance, but don’t send it until I tell you.” The captain returned a few minutes later: “Send the call for assistance.” He handed them a piece of paper with the Titanic’s position.

From that point on, First Operator Phillips and Second Operator Bride remained at their post, communicating via Morse Code with many ships, but the one that made a difference was the Carpathia, some 58 miles to the southeast.

Phillips and Bride stayed at their post literally to the final minutes, as the sea water began to rise toward the radio room. They were able to comb onto an overturned “collapsible” lifeboat. Though the frostbitten Bride survived, Phillips died sometime during the night from exposure, silently slipping off the lifeboat and into the icy waters.

Captain Arthur H. Rostron commanded the Carpathia, a much smaller passenger ship of the rival Cunard line. Immediately upon receiving word of Titanic’s plight from his ship’s wireless operator, Rostron changed course and fired up the boilers to full steam. Though her top speed was only 14 knots, the Carpathia would soon be steaming through the same ice field that crippled and sank the Titanic.

Within minutes Rostron had summoned all his department heads to the bridge and delivered detailed instruction. They had three-and-a-half hours to prepare for hundreds of ocean refugees. Besides his reputation for quick decisions and high energy, Rostron was also known for another character trait. he was a man of prayer.

After all preparations were well under way and he was briefed as to their progress, he lifted his cap a few inches above his head and in the darkness of the bridge silently moved his lips in prayer. After the survivors were all aboard, and before leaving the scene, Rostron led a brief memorial service in memory of those perished and in thanksgiving for those spared.

“When day broke,” the captain told a friend years later, “I saw the ice I had steamed through during the night, I shuddered, and could only think that some other Hand than mine was on that helm during the night.”

Much earlier that same night, hours before the Titanic’s starboard bow fatally glanced the iceberg, the Reverend John Harper had braved the cold to stand on deck with a few other passengers after dinner. A beautiful sunset colored the western horizon. “It will be beautiful in the morning,” Harper said to his sister-in-law, who along with his 6-year-old daughter, Nina, was traveling with him to Moody Church in Chicago.

After the collision, Harper, a Baptist pastor from Scotland, awakened Nina from her slumber, wrapped her in a blanket and carried her up to a deck. He kissed her good-bye and handed her to a crewman, who gave her to Harper’s sister-in-law in lifeboat #11. That was the last the two saw of him.

Though his later exploits are not certain, it has been reported that Harper gave his lifebelt to another man before he went down with the ship. A brochure in the possession of Harper’s grandson, printed after the disaster, was recently shown to an American writing a book on Harper. In the brochure’s Foreword is written a first-person account by a nameless survivor. In this brochure, whether legend or true, the survivor tells of finding himself, with hundreds of others, “struggling in the cold, dark waters of the Atlantic.”

“I caught hold of something and clung to it for dear life, the wail of the perishing all around was ringing in my ears.” A stranger drifted near him and encouraged him to look to Jesus for his soul’s safety.

The two drifted apart and then together again. The stranger, floating alongside in the 28-degree waters, encouraged him again to call out to Jesus. As they drifted apart, the stranger could be hard making his same plea to others struggling in the moonless night.

“Then and there,” the nameless survivor concludes, “with two miles of water beneath me, in my desperation I cried to Christ to save me.” This same survivor later claimed that to his knowledge the selfless counselor, thinking of the eternal welfare of others in his final minutes, was the Rev. John Harper.

There was a man at one of our meetings in New York City who was moved by the Spirit of God. He said, "I am going home, and I am not going to sleep to-night till Christ takes away my sins, if I have to stay up all night and pray. I'll do it." He had a good distance to walk, and as he went along he thought, "Why can't I pray now as I go along, instead of waiting to go home?" But he did not know a prayer. His mother had taught him to pray, but it was so long since he had uttered a prayer that he had forgotten. However, the publican's prayer came to his mind. Everybody can say this prayer. That man in the gallery yonder, that young lady over there: "God be merciful to me a sinner." May God write it on your hearts to-night. If you forget the sermon, don't forget that prayer. It is a very short prayer, and it has brought joy--salvation--to many a soul. Well, this prayer came to the man, and he began, "God be merciful to me a--," but before he got to "sinner" God blessed him.

1. Under socialism, everyone works, but there is nothing in the stores.

2. There is nothing in the stores, but everyone has everything.

3. Everyone has everything, but everyone is dissatisfied.

4. Everyone is dissatisfied, but everyone is for the system.

5. Everyone is for the system, but no one works.

6. No one works, but there is no unemployment.

Evangelist Billy Walked told a story about the city fathers of New York as they contemplated the future growth of the city. They laid out the streets and numbered them from the center outward. When they began, there were only six or seven streets. In their planning maps, they projected how large they thought the city might grow. Reaching beyond their wildest imagination, they drew streets on the map all the way out to 19th street. They called it “Boundary Street” because they were sure that’s all the larger New York City would become. But history has proven them to be shortsighted. At the last count, the city had reached 284th Street—far exceeding their expectations!

When Mr. Sankey and I were in the north of England, I was preaching one evening, and before me sat a lady who was a skeptic. When I had finished, I asked all who were anxious, to remain. Nearly all remained, herself among the number. I asked her if she was a Christian, and she said she was not, nor did she care to be. I prayed for her there. On inquiry, I learned that she was a lady of good social position, but very worldly. She continued to attend the meetings, and in a week after I saw her in tears. After the sermon, I went to her and asked if she was of the same mind as before. She replied that Christ had come to her and she was happy. Last Autumn I had a note from her husband saying she was dead, that her love for the Master had continually increased. When I read that note, I felt paid for crossing the Atlantic. She worked sweetly after her conversion, and was the means of winning many of her fashionable friends to Christ. O, may you seek the Lord while He may be found, and may you call upon Him while He is near.

Discernment in Scripture is the skill that enables us to differentiate. It is the ability to see issues clearly. We desperately need to cultivate this spiritual skill that will enable us to know right from wrong. We must be prepared to distinguish light from darkness, truth from error, best from better, righteousness from unrighteousness, purity from defilement, and principles from pragmatics.

In April 1988 the evening news reported on a photographer who was a skydiver. He had jumped from a plane along with numerous other skydivers and filmed the group as they fell and opened their parachutes. On the film shown on the telecast, as the final skydiver opened his chute, the picture went berserk. The announcer reported that the cameraman had fallen to his death, having jumped out of the plane without his parachute. It wasn’t until he reached for the absent ripcord that he realized he was free falling without a parachute. Until that point, the jump probably seemed exciting and fun. But tragically, he had acted with thoughtless haste and deadly foolishness. Nothing could save him, for his faith was in a parachute never buckled on. Faith in anything but an all-sufficient God can be just as tragic spiritually. Only with faith in Jesus Christ dare we step into the dangerous excitement of life.

I read some time ago of a vessel that had been off on a whaling voyage and had been gone about three years. I saw the account in print somewhere lately, but it happened a long time ago. The father of one of those sailors had charge of the lighthouse, and he was expecting his boy to come home. It was time for the whaling vessel to return. One night there came up a terrible gale, and this father fell asleep, and while he slept his light went out. When he awoke he looked toward the shore and saw there had been a vessel wrecked. He at once went to see if he could not yet save some one who might be still alive. The first body that came floating toward the shore was, to his great grief and surprise, the body of his own boy! He had been watching for that boy for many days, and he had been gone for three years. Now the boy had at last come in sight of home and had perished because his father had let his light go out! I thought, what an illustration of fathers and mothers to-day that have let their lights go out! You are not training your children for God and eternity. You do not live as though there were anything beyond this life at all. You keep your affections set upon things on the earth instead of on things above, and the result is that the children do not believe there is anything in it. Perhaps the very next step they take may take them into eternity: the next day they may die without God and without hope.

Phillip Brooks made an apt comment when he said, “The true way to be humble is not to stoop until you are smaller than yourself, but to stand at your real height against some higher nature that will show you what the real smallness of your greatness is.”

A little snail that lived by the ocean noticed with envy the big and beautiful shell in which the lobster lived.

"Oh! How this little shell of mine pinches," whined the little snail. "What a grand palace the lobster carries on his back! I wish I lived in his place. Oh! Wouldn't my friends admire me in that shell! Think of a snail living in a mansion like that!"

In time a wonderful thing occurred. The watching, envious snail beheld the lobster work right out of his shell to grow up in another, larger one. When the empty, metallic green shell of the lobster lay neglected on the beach, the snail said, "Now I shall have my wish. Hurrah! The little snail is going to live in a lobster shell!"

In his pride he cried out to the birds overhead, "Ah, the little snail is going to live in a lobster shell."

He cried to the cattle in the field, "Oh, oh! Now you shall see. The little snail is going to live in a palace."

So the birds and the cattle in the field were curious and they watched the little snail. The snail pulled himself loose from his own little shell, and cried, "Well, I'm glad to say I'm through with you. Goodbye. You've pinched me and pressed me for the last time. I am going to live in the grand lobster shell."

The birds and the animals saw the little snail proudly crawl into the towering lobster shell and he huffed and puffed and blew and gasped in an effort to make himself fit. But with all his efforts he felt very small inside the grand lobster shell. He grew tired, too. That night he died because the great empty shell was so cold.

A wise old crow then said, "You see! That's what comes of envy. What you have is enough. Be yourself and save yourself from a lot of trouble. How much better to be a little snail in a comfortable shell than to be a little snail in a big shell and freeze to death!"

Let us suppose that God’s resources are so much beyond what we can imagine that he can produce a situation in which we can honestly say, “I see now that even the butchery of six million Jews doesn’t matter. This is why he didn’t do what I would have done if I had had the power to strike dead every Nazi in order to prevent it.” This line of thought does not solve the problem of evil. But it points in the direction of a solution.

The idea goes back to Jesus. “A woman giving birth to a child has pain because her time has come; but when her baby is born she forgets the anguish because of her joy that a child is born into the world” (John 16:21).

David Brainerd had such an intense compassion for souls, and was so concerned for their salvation, that he said, "I cared not where or how I lived, or what hardships I went through, so that I could but gain souls for Christ. While I was asleep, I dreamed of these things, and when I awoke, the first thing I thought of was this great work. All my desire was for the conversion of the heathen, and all my hope was in God."

It is said that Tennyson was walking one day in a beautiful flower garden when a friend said to him, "Mr. Tennyson, you speak so often of Jesus Christ. Will you tell me what Christ really means to your life?" Tennyson stooped and pointing to a beautiful yellow flower said, "What the sun is to the flower, Jesus Christ is to my soul."

God is not the source of sin; he neither commits nor wills nor prompts it (James 1:13). God made rational creatures who were capable of loving him freely and by choice and that meant they could freely choose not to love him—which is what some angels and all our race have done. How such disobedience is possible, while God is Lord of this world, we cannot conceive; that it is possible, however, is undeniable, for it has happened.

How did sin enter the cosmos? Scripture tells us that Satan and his angels rebelled against the Creator before man was made (2 Pet. 2:4; Jude 6), so that when the first human beings appeared “that ancient serpent, who is the Devil and Satan” (Rev. 20:2) was there to trip them up (Gen. 3). And “the tempter,” the “ruler” and “god of this world” (1 Thess. 3:5; John 14:30; 2 Cor. 4:4) still marauds with serpentine cunning and lion-like savagery. It is right to trace moral evil back to Satan as its patron, promoter, producer, director, and instigatory cause.

Where do the inclinations to evil which I find in myself, and so often yield to, come from? The Bible says their source is my own heart (James 1:13-15; Mark 7:21-23). Just as a cripple’s twisted leg makes him walk lame, so the motivational twist of my fallen heart—anti-god, anti-other, self-absorbed—constantly induces wrong attitudes and actions.

In The Wounded Healer, Henri Nouwen retells a tale from ancient India: Four royal brothers decided each to master a special ability. Time went by, and the brothers met to reveal what they had learned.

“I have mastered a science,” said the first, “by which I can take but a bone of some creature and create the flesh that goes with it.”

“I,” said the second, “know how to grow that creature’s skin and hair if there is flesh on its bones.”

The third said, “I am able to create its limbs if I have flesh, the skin, and the hair.”

“And I,” concluded the fourth, “know how to give life to that creature if its form is complete.”

Thereupon the brothers went into the jungle to find a bone so they could demonstrate their specialties. As fate would have it, the bone they found was a lion’s. One added flesh to the bone, the second grew hide and hair, the third completed it with matching limbs, and the fourth gave the lion life.

Shaking its mane, the ferocious beast arose and jumped on his creators. He killed them all and vanished contentedly into the jungle.

We too have the capacity to create what can devour us. Goals and dreams can consume us. Possessions and property can turn and destroy us—unless we first seek God’s kingdom and righteousness, and allow Him to breathe into what we make of life.

- Nathan Castens

A walk in the Spirit will of necessity be a walk in accordance with the Word the Spirit has inspired. The parallel between Eph. 5:18-21 and Col. 3:15-17 is significant. The same results are said to flow from being filled with the Spirit in the first case, and being filled with the Word in the second.

To remain filled with the Spirit, and thus enjoy His continuing sanctifying work, will mean continuing to be filled with the Word. The relationship is obvious.

There must be a correspondence between the receiver and the transmitter. When we listen to a radio broadcast, there are many sound waves all around us, but the only way for us to become aware of them is to have an appropriate receiver able to catch them and make them audible. We would never know that anyone was talking to us from a distance if we expected our watch to pick up the sound waves. There is only one way in which man can know God, and that is through man's own spirit. God is a Spirit and can be known only by a spirit. We must not expect to feel Him with our fingers, or see Him with our physical eyes. It cannot be done. Yet that which can be perceived only by the spirit of man is just as real as that which can be perceived by his physical senses.

It is worthy of note that the Spirit’s assistance in prayer is more frequently mentioned than any of His other offices. All true praying springs from His activity in the heart. Both Paul and Jude teach that effective prayer is “praying in the Holy Spirit,” which has been defined as praying “along the same lines, about the same things, in the same Name as the Holy Spirit.” All true prayer rises in the spirit of the believer from the Spirit who indwells him.

Praying in the Spirit may have a dual significance. It may mean praying in the realm of the Holy Spirit, for He is the sphere and atmosphere of the believer’s life. The Spirit is in us and we are in the Spirit. Many prayers are psychical rather than spiritual. They move in the realm of the mind only, and are the product of our own thinking and not of the Spirit’s teaching. But praying in the Spirit is something deeper. The prayer envisaged here “utilizes the body and demands the cooperation of the mind, but moves in the supernatural realm of the Spirit.” Prayer conducts its business in the heavenlies.

Or it may mean praying in the power and energy of the Holy Spirit: “Give yourselves wholly to prayer and entreaty; pray on every occasion in the power of the Spirit” (Eph. 6:18, NEB). Prayer demands more than human power and energy for its supernatural task, and the Holy Spirit supplies it. He is the Spirit of power as well as the Spirit of prayer. Mere human energy of heart and mind and will can achieve only human results. But praying in the power of the Spirit releases supernatural resources.

It is the Spirit’s delight to aid us in our physical and moral weakness in the prayer life, for the praying heart labors under three limiting handicaps; but in each of them we can count on the Spirit’s assistance. Sometimes we are kept from prayer because of the conscious iniquity of our hearts. The Spirit will lead and enable us to appropriate the cleansing of the blood of Christ which will silence the accusations of the adversary and remove the sense of guilt and pollution. Always we are hampered by the limiting ignorance of our minds. The Spirit who knows the mind of God will share that knowledge with us as we wait on Him. Then there will come the quiet, clear conviction that our request is in the will of God, and faith will be kindled. We are often earthbound through the benumbing infirmity of our bodies. The Spirit will quicken our mortal bodies in response to our faith and enable us to rise above physical and climatic conditions.

An old fable tells of a man cursed with the power of seeing other human beings, not in the beauty of flesh and blood, but as skeletons gaunt and grisly. Some saints seem to have taken upon themselves this curse. Do you feel that you are the only one who is right with the Lord-that everybody else is a spiritual skeleton because he is not of the same denominational stripe or has not the same scruples of conscience as you? Take him or her into your circle of believers as Paul did, as long as they are calling upon the name of the Lord Jesus Christ.

In a home where a lady had two canary cages, one on either side of a window, a visitor made some comment about the birds. Whereupon the hostess remarked that one of the canaries was exceedingly jealous. She then proved her statement. Going to the cage of the bird that was not jealous, she began petting it, calling it pretty names and chatting with it. The reaction of the other canary was remarkable. Its feathers ruffled up, it fluttered all about the cage and made angry squawks of protest. There was no question about its jealous nature. Man, too, displays a jealous nature by his actions.

A stag was drinking at a pool, admiring his stately antlers, but feeling ashamed of his spindly legs. Suddenly he heard an approaching mountain lion, and those spindly legs propelled him into the safety of the forest, but his antlers became caught in the underbrush and soon he was killed.

I recently read about an old man, walking the beach at dawn, who noticed a young man ahead of him picking up starfish and flinging them into the sea. Catching up with the youth, he asked what he was doing. The answer was that the stranded starfish would die if left in the morning sun. ‘But the beach goes on for miles and miles, and there are millions of starfish,’ countered the man. ‘How can your effort make any difference?’

The young man looked at the starfish in his hand and then threw it to safety in the waves. ‘It makes a difference to this one,’ he said.” Hugh Duncan,

Once, when Dr. Pierson was in George Mueller's study, he took a glance into his Bible. As he was leafing through it he came to Psa 37:23, "The steps of a good man are ordered by Jehovah." He noticed that George Mueller had written by the side of it in the margin, "and the stops!" If our tongues know when to go and when to stop, then our whole bodies, our whole personalities, will know when to move and when to stop. If we don't have God's bridle, these tongues of ours will keep going incessantly. Now we need the steps and the stops, too! If it were not for the bridle, the rider would find it very difficult, if not impossible, to stop the horse. Why does the horse stop? Because the bits in the bridle hurt his tongue. It is so with God in His dealings with us. We are moving so fast in the wrong direction, toward our own goal and destruction, that God has to pull hard on the bridle to cause us to stop.

There was a boy a great many years ago, stolen in London, the same as Charley Ross was stolen here. Long months and years passed away, and the mother had prayed and prayed, as the mother of Charley Ross prayed, I suppose, and all her efforts had failed and they had given up all hope; but the mother did not quite give up her hope. One day a little boy was sent up to the neighboring house to sweep the chimney, and by some mistake he got down again through the wrong chimney. When he came down, he came in by the sitting-room chimney. His memory began at once to travel back through the years that had passed. He thought that things looked strangely familiar. The scenes of the early days of youth were dawning upon him; and as he stood there surveying the place, his mother came into the room. He stood there covered with rags and soot. Did she wait until she sent him to be washed before she rushed and took him in her arms? No, indeed; it was her own boy. She took him to her arms all black and smoke, and hugged him to her bosom, and shed tears of joy upon his head.

The farmer killed a pig and hung it up for the night, intending to butcher it in the morning, but the next day it was gone. He didn’t tell a soul about it, and nothing happened for more than two months. Then another farmer, who lived down the road, came by and said, “By the way, Josh, did you ever find out who stole your pig?”

“Nope,” said Josh. “Not till just now.”

The first mention of Christ “the stone” is found parenthetically in Jacob’s deathbed blessing upon his son Joseph: “from thence is the shepherd, the stone of Israel” (Gen 49:24). God intended this Stone for a “sure foundation,” “a tried Stone, a precious corner Stone” (Isa 28:16). Unfortunately, the builders rejected the Stone (Ps 118:22), Matt 21:42-44). To Israel, “the sure foundation” had become a “stone of stumbling” (I Peter 2:8). And so, “Many...shall stumble, and fall, and be broken, and be snared, and be taken” (Isa 8:15), all because Jesus came as a humble stone, and Israel desired a mighty rock! Ironically, in refusing Jesus Christ, Israel rejected the very Rock for which it continues to seek. For, as Paul points out, the Israelites, who came out of Egypt under Moses’ leadership, “did all drink the same spiritual drink: for they drank of that spiritual Rock that followed them: and that Rock was Christ” (I Cor 10:4). But for Israel, Jesus Christ remains a “rock of offense.” To us who believe, however, the Lord is a “living stone, disallowed indeed of men, but chosen of God, and precious” (I Peter 2:4). Instead of stumbling over this stone, “He that believeth on Him shall not be confounded” (I Peter 2:6). Be reminded that “...whoever shall fall on this stone shall be broken: but on whomsoever it shall fall, it will grind him to powder.” (Matt 21:44).

A small girl had been promised the privilege of climbing to a nearby hilltop where her brother enjoyed playing. But when she came within sight of the steep, rough path, she drew back in dismay. “Why, there isn’t a smooth spot anywhere. It’s all bumpy and stony!” she exclaimed.

“Yes,” said her more experienced older brother, “but how else would we ever climb to the top if it wasn’t? The stones and bumps are what we step on to get there.”

One day there was a little task

God wanted me to do.

I said, "Lord, You'll have to wait,

I've got no time for You.

I have this little child to raise

And prices are so high;

Besides we've found a house and lot

We thought we'd like to buy."

So I took on some extra work,

No church-I was too tired.

But I got up on Monday morning,

I had to-or get fired!

And so I went along for years

With never a thought of God;

Until one day my little child

Was laid beneath the sod.

The lovely home we'd bought for her

Seemed empty now-so bare.

In anguish then I turned to God

And cried, "It isn't fair.

That you should take my little one

And cause my wife these tears;

When we have been so happy here

These few, short, busy years."

'Twas then I heard the voice of God

Come ringing in my ear-

"I called upon you once but then

My cry you would not hear.

Now in your grief you cry for Me,

'Why must this sad thing be?'

Your little child became your god,

She took the place of Me."

Oh my dear friend, find time for God

In everything you do

If not, you'll find that one day He

Shall have no time for you!

Will Durant in The Story of Civilization: When a simpleton abused him, Buddha listened in silence; but when the man finished, Buddha asked him, Son, if a man declined to accept a present made to him, to whom would it belong?” The man answered, “To him who offered it.” “My son,” said Buddha, “I decline to accept your abuse, and request you to keep it for yourself.”

Most of us know the story of the first Thanksgiving—at least, we know the Pilgrim version. But how many of us know the Indian viewpoint?

No, I’m not talking about some revisionist, p.c. version of history. I’m talking about the amazing story of the way God used an Indian named Squanto as a special instrument of His providence.

Historical accounts of Squanto’s life vary, but historians believe that around 1608—more than a decade before the Pilgrims landed in the New World—a group of English traders, led by a Captain Hunt, sailed to what is today Plymouth, Massachusetts. When the trusting Wampanoag Indians came out to trade, Hunt took them prisoner, transported them to Spain, and sold them into slavery.

But God had an amazing plan for one of the captured Indians—a boy named Squanto.

Squanto was bought by a well-meaning Spanish monk, who treated him well and taught him the Christian faith. Squanto eventually made his way to England and worked in the stable of a man named John Slaney. Slaney sympathized with Squanto’s desire to return home, and he promised to put the Indian on the first vessel bound for America.

It wasn’t until 1619—ten years after Squanto was first kidnapped—that a ship was found. Finally, after a decade of exile and heartbreak, Squanto was on his way home.

But when he arrived in Massachusetts, more heartbreak awaited him. An epidemic had wiped out Squanto’s entire village.

We can only imagine what must have gone through Squanto’s mind. Why had God allowed him to return home, against all odds, only to find his loved ones dead?

A year later, the answer came. A shipload of English families arrived and settled on the very land once occupied by Squanto’s people. Squanto went to meet them, greeting the startled Pilgrims in English.

According to the diary of Pilgrim Governor William Bradford, Squanto “became a special instrument sent of God for [our] good . . . He showed [us] how to plant [our] corn, where to take fish and to procure other commodities . . . and was also [our] pilot to bring [us] to unknown places for [our] profit, and never left [us] till he died.”

When Squanto lay dying of a fever, Bradford wrote that their Indian friend “desir[ed] the Governor to pray for him, that he might go to the Englishmen’s God in heaven.” Squanto bequeathed his possessions to his English friends “as remembrances of his love.”

Who but God could so miraculously weave together the lives of a lonely Indian and a struggling band of Englishmen? It’s hard not to make comparisons with the biblical story of Joseph, who was also sold into slavery—and whom God likewise used as a special instrument for good.

Squanto’s life story is remarkable, and we ought to make sure our children and grandchildren learn about it. While you’re enjoying turkey and pumpkin pie tomorrow, share with your kids the Indian side of the Thanksgiving story.

Tell them about Squanto, the “special instrument sent of God”—who changed the course of American history.

The following incident is taken from an experience of Charles H. Spurgeon with an atheist.

There was an atheist in the vicinity of Mr. Spurgeon's home and he was very ugly to anyone who believed the Bible.

Mr. Spurgeon asked the Lord to direct him in what he should read for morning devotions. Then he seemed strongly impressed to read the book of Joel in its entirety. When he came to Joel 3, he read the third verse: "And sold the girl for wine." Whereupon, Mr. Spurgeon checked his concordance to see how many times the word "girl" occurred in the Bible. To his great surprise, he found the word only occurred once.

A little later he thought he would take a walk. About a block and a half away he looked up and there was the atheist's house. He went up and knocked.

The atheist growled, "Well, what do you want?"

"I would like to read the Bible to you," Spurgeon replied.

"The atheist began his usual abuse, then suddenly stopped and said, "Will you tell me how often the word 'girl' is in the Bible?"

Mr. Spurgeon answered, "Once."

The atheist then said, "Tell me where it is found and I will let you in."

Spurgeon replied, "Joe 3:3."

The atheist then said, "Tell me before I let you in, how did you know it?"

Mr. Spurgeon answered, "I haven't known it two hours. In my morning devotions I read the book of Joel."

Then Mr. Spurgeon stepped in, and in half an hour the atheist was on his knees asking God to forgive his sins.

A stranger entered the church in the middle of the sermon and seated himself in the back pew. After a while he began to fidget. Leaning over to a white-haired man at his side, evidently an old member of the congregation, he whispered:

“How long has he been preaching?”

“Thirty or forty years, I think,” the old man answered.

“I’ll stay then,” decided the stranger, “He must be nearly done.”

The evidence is convincing that the better our relationships are at home, the more effective we are in our careers. If we’re having difficulty with a loved one, that difficulty will be translated into reduced performance on the job. In studying the millionaires in America (U.S. News and World Report), a picture of the “typical” millionaire is an individual who has worked eight to ten hours a day for thirty years and is still married to his or her high school or college sweetheart.

A New York executive search firm, in a study of 1365 corporate vice presidents, discovered that 87% were still married to their one and only spouse and that 92% were raised in two-parent families. The evidence is overwhelming that the family is the strength and foundation of society. Strengthen your family ties and you’ll enhance your opportunity to succeed.

The strife is o’er, the battle done;

The victory of life is won;

The song of triumph has begun. Alleluia!

The powers of death have done their worst,

But Christ their legions hath dispersed:

Let shouts of holy joy outburst. Alleluia!

The three sad days have quickly sped;

He rises glorious from the dead:

All glory to our risen Head! Alleluia!

He closed the yawning gates of hell;

The bars from heaven’s high portals fell;

Let hymns of praise His triumphs tell. Alleluia!

Lord, by the stripes which wounded Thee,

From death’s dread sting Thy servants free,

That we may live and sing to Thee. Alleluia!

One time the electrical workers in Paris called a general strike. It had hardly begun when a child of one of the laborers became seriously ill. When the physician arrived, he told the mother that the little girl would need immediate surgery to save her life. There was no time to take her to the hospital, so the doctor quickly prepared the kitchen table for an emergency operation. Darkness was falling as the final sanitary precautions were completed. The doctor flipped on the light switch—but there was no electricity. It was impossible to perform the surgery. Just then the father burst into the room and exclaimed, “Hurrah! The strike is complete. There isn’t a light burning in Paris!”

The tabernacle was the structure ordered built by God so that He might dwell among His people (Ex. 25:8). It was to be mobile and constructed to exacting specifications. It is referred to in Ex. 25-27, 30-31, 35-40; Num. 3:25ff; 4:4 ff.; 7:1ff. In all of scripture more space is devoted to the tabernacle than any other topic.

Many books have been written on the spiritual significance of the tabernacle, how it represented Christ, and how it foretold the gospel. The tabernacle consisted of the outer court and the tabernacle. The outer court was entered from the East in which were the altar of burnt offering (Ex. 27:1-8) and the bronze laver (Ex. 30:17-21). The tabernacle stood within the court (Ex. 26:1 ff). It was divided into two main divisions: the holy place and the holy of holies which were separated by a veil (Ex. 26:31 ff), the same veil that was torn from top to bottom at the crucifixion of Jesus (Matt. 27:51). Where the veil had represented the barrier separating sinful man from a holy God (Heb. 9:8), its destruction represented the free access sinners have to God through the blood of Christ (Heb. 10:19 ff). The tabernacle was a place of sacrifice.

The holy place contained three things: first, a table on which was placed the shewbread, the bread of the presence (Ex. 25:23-30), second, a golden lampstand (Ex. 25:31-40) and third, an altar of incense (Ex. 30:1-7). In the holy of holies was the ark of the covenant which contained the Ten Commandments (Ex. 25:16). The holy of holies was entered only once a year by the high priest who offered sacrifice for the nation of Israel.

The study of the problem of evil in the world. The issue is raised in light of the sovereignty of God. How could a holy and loving God who is in control of all things allow evil to exist? The answer has been debated for as long as the church has existed. We still do not have a definitive answer and the Bible does not seek to justify God’s actions.

It is clear that God is sovereign, and that He has willed the existence of both good and evil, and that all of this is for His own glory. Proverbs 16:4 says, “The LORD works out everything for his own ends—even the wicked for a day of disaster”; Isaiah 45:7 says, “I form the light and create darkness, I bring prosperity and create disaster; I, the LORD, do all these things.”

Over confidence, coupled with negligence, can lead to sad consequences. This is the case when a person is so sure of himself that he becomes careless about little things that may pose a threat. I’m thinking, for example, of a stuntman named Bobby Leach. In July, 1911, he went over Niagara Falls in a specially designed steel drum and lived to tell about it. Although he suffered minor injuries, he survived because he recognized the tremendous dangers involved in the feat, and because he had done everything he could to protect himself from harm.

Several years after that incident, while skipping down the street in New Zealand, Bobby Leach slipped on an orange peeling, fell, and badly fractured his leg. He was taken to a hospital where he later died of complications from that fall. He received a greater injury walking down the street than he sustained in going over Niagara. He was not prepared for danger in what he assumed to be a safe situation.

His blood is so sufficient

He tells us in His word

On the mercy seat in heaven

It was put there by our Lord.

It stops the accuser of the brethren

As he walks before the throne

Our God just points to the blood

And Satan knows He cares for His own.

It’s sufficient for any situation

To nourish, to cleanse, and keep.

Oh, magnify your name my Lord

My soul with rapture leaps.

Can my sins though oh so many

Make this blood of no avail

Once I’ve named the name of Jesus

In my heart, I cannot fail.

His word has proclaimed it

The work begun in me

Will someday be completed

When His dear face I see.

And when I dwell in heaven

As the ages roll along

Oh, that precious blood of Jesus

Will be my victory song.

All of us readily admit that Christianity advocates justice, equality, and opportunity for all. When it comes to practicing it, do we really mean what we preach, or are we like the little Sunday school girl who was observed by her teacher trying to move as far away as possible from the little girl next to her? They were both poor children, neatly but plainly dressed. The teacher said, "What is the matter? Why don't you sit still?" "Oh," she replied, "I have a silk dress, and she has a cotton one, and I don't want her to sit by me."

A man visited Tiffany's jewelry store in New York City. He was shown a magnificent diamond with its gleaming yellow light and many other splendid stones. But he observed one stone that was perfectly lusterless and said, "That has no beauty about it at all." The friend who was with him put the stone in the hollow of his hand and held it there for a few minutes. When he opened it, the man said, "What a surprise! There is not a place on it the size of a pinhead that does not gleam with the splendor of the rainbow. What did you do with it?" His friend answered, "This is an opal. It is what we call the sympathetic jewel. It only needs contact with the human hand to bring out its wonderful beauty." How many lives there are that need only the warm touch of human sympathy to make them gleam with opalescent splendor.

Some years ago a man living in Wales had the misfortune of being involved in a mining accident which necessitated the amputation of his right leg. After a period in the hospital, he went to a prosthesis maker to be supplied with an artificial leg. When the appendage had been strapped to the stump, which was all that remained of the injured leg, the attendant requested that the patient get up and walk across the floor. Awkwardly, the man struggled to his feet and staggered across the room. Then, dragging himself painfully back to his chair, he slumped into it, utterly exhausted and discouraged.

"That's not how to do it," said the attendant. "Watch this!" Then he walked gracefully across the floor. "Ah," exclaimed the patient, "It's all very easy for you because you don't have any disability."

"Oh, haven't I?" replied the attendant. "Look." Pulling up the legs of his trousers, he disclosed that he was not wearing just one artificial limb, but TWO!

Too many times we doubt or we get depressed and discouraged and we are inclined to say, "Jesus, it was easy for you. You were God and could not sin. You never tasted the abundance of daily temptation, toil, and frustration. Yet the writer in Heb 4:15 tells us "...we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are-yet was without sin."

So the next time you find yourself doubting you can finish the race, look to Jesus, the author and perfector of our faith. The next time you're depressed about giving up things for God, look to Jesus who gave up even more. Or the next time you're discouraged, remember the ultimate sacrifice-Jesus bearing the sins of the world on the cross as God turned His back, to say "I LOVE YOU" to us.

The Taj Mahal is one of the most beautiful and costly tombs ever built, but there is something fascinating about its beginnings.

In 1629, when the favorite wife of Indian ruler Shah Jahan died, he ordered that a magnificent tomb be built as a memorial to her. The shah placed his wife’s casket in the middle of a parcel of land, and construction of the temple literally began around it. But several years into the venture, the Shah’s grief for his wife gave way to a passion for the project. One day while he was surveying the sight, he reportedly stumbled over a wooden box, and he had some workers throw it out. It was months before he realized that his wife’s casket had been destroyed. The original purpose for the memorial became lost in the details of construction.

Some families make church their home. Others find other uses for the church. Take the notorious Tate family, for example. Perhaps you’ve met some of them. The chief of the clan is old Dic Tate, who insists on running everything in church. His brother Ro Tate wants to change everything. Aunt Agi Tate has a knack for stirring up trouble; and her husband, Irri Tate, always lends a hand.

The next generation of Tates has its own characteristics. Hesi Tate and his wife, Vege Tate, would just as soon wait until next year whenever a new project is suggested. Aunt Imi Tate would love to create the first generic church. Devas Tate announces constantly that the church is doomed, while her husband Poten Tate promises he can lead the church out of trouble.

“I’m Wayne Black.” The words were tattooed across the forehead of Wayne Black, a suspected thief in Lincoln, England. When confronted by police, Black insisted he wasn’t Wayne Black.

A tale is told about a small town that had historically been “dry,” but then a local businessman decided to build a tavern. A group of Christians from a local church were concerned and planned an all-night prayer meeting to ask God to intervene. It just so happened that shortly thereafter lightning struck the bar and it burned to the ground. The owner of the bar sued the church, claiming that the prayers of the congregation were responsible, but the church hired a lawyer to argue in court that they were not responsible. The presiding judge, after his initial review of the case, stated that “no matter how this case comes out, one thing is clear. The tavern owner believes in prayer and the Christians do not.”

A businessman well known for his ruthlessness once announced to writer Mark Twain, “Before I die I mean to make a pilgrimage to the Holy Land. I will climb Mount Sinai and read the 10 Commandments aloud at the top.” “I have a better idea,” replied Twain. “You could stay in Boston and keep them.”

Now I lay my down to rest,

Tomorrow I have another test;

If I should die before I wake,

That’s one less test I’ll have to take.

It was John Riskin who said, “I believe the first test of a truly great man is his humility. I do not mean by humility, doubt of his own power, or hesitation in speaking his opinion. But really great men have a ... feeling that the greatness is not in them but through them; that they could not do or be anything else than God made them.” Andrew Murray said, “The humble man feels no jealousy or envy. He can praise God when others are preferred and blessed before him. He can bear to hear others praised while he is forgotten because ... he has received the spirit of Jesus, who pleased not Himself, and who sought not His own honor. Therefore, in putting on the Lord Jesus Christ he has put on the heart of compassion, kindness, meekness, longsuffering, and humility.”

M. R. De Haan used to say, “Humility is something we should constantly pray for, yet never thank God that we have.”

“That is my text.

I am now going to preach.

Maybe we’ll meet again, my text and I,

maybe not.”

The thief had nails through both hands, so that he could not work; and a nail through each foot, so that he could not run errands for the Lord; he could not lift a hand or a foot toward his salvation, and yet Christ offered him the gift of God; and he took it. Christ threw him a passport, and took him into Paradise.