Pastoral Resources

Thinking of the fullness and duration of this wonderful life, W. B. Hinson, a great preacher of a past generation, spoke from his own experience just before he died. He said, “I remember a year ago when a doctor told me, ‘You have an illness from which you won’t recover.’ I walked out to where I live 5 miles from Portland, Oregon, and I looked across at that mountain that I love. I looked at the river in which I rejoice, and I looked at the stately trees that are always God’s own poetry to my soul. Then in the evening I looked up into the great sky where God was lighting His lamps, and I said, ‘ I may not see you many more times, but Mountain, I shall be alive when you are gone; and River, I shall be alive when you cease running toward the sea; and Stars, I shall be alive when you have fallen from your sockets in the great downpulling of the material universe!’”

The Rev. Dr. Robert South, while preaching one day in 1689, looked up from his notes to observe that his entire congregation was fast asleep—including the King! Appropriately mortified by this discovery, he interrupted his sermon to call out, “Lord Lauderdale, rouse yourself. You snore so loudly that you will wake the King.”

The Waldensians are an example of how one group can suffer persecution and still survive and prosper. How did they do it for nearly 800 years? The answer lies at the core of the Waldensian doctrine: they focused on having a close relationship with Jesus Christ through the Bible and teaching.

In the late 12th century, Waldo of Lyons, a prosperous merchant, made three important decisions that would not only affect his life, but the lives of many who would choose to follow him. In essence, these three decisions formed the basis for the Waldensian doctrine. Waldo funded the transcription of several books of the Bible, he gave away all he had and was reduced to a beggar, and he determined to preach the gospel to all who would listen. Although the requirements to become a Waldensian were strict, many people joined Waldo’s group because they wanted a closer relationship with Jesus Christ.

From its beginning, the Waldensian church suffered much persecution because they were considered heretics. The Archbishop of Lyons attempted to stop Waldo and his followers from preaching the gospel and eventually excommunicated them from Lyons. The biggest act of atrocity against the Waldensians occurred in 1655, in an event known as the Piedmont Easter. During Easter week, 5,000 French soldiers were given permission to pillage the Waldensian settlements, killing over 1,700 Waldensians.

When Louis XIV assumed the throne in France, he focused on expelling the Waldensians. Louis revoked the Edict of Nantes which gave religious freedom to French Protestants. In 1686, another edict was issued that strictly prohibited Protestant assembly, and children were forced to be baptized in the church. Waldensian churches were burned, and Waldensian schoolmasters and pastors were given 15 days to choose between exile and renouncing their beliefs. Many church members chose exile and fled to northern Italy where they found refuge. However, their safety in Italy was soon jeopardized. In April of that year, the Waldensians rose up in arms under the direction of pastor Henry Arnaud, but they suffered a brutal defeat. In the course of this war with the Italian government, 2,000 Waldensians died, 2,000 renounced their beliefs, and 8,000 were imprisoned. After this brutal attack, the Waldensian church was reduced to 3,400, but still they did not give up.

I said: Let me walk in the field.

God said: Nay, walk in the town.

I said: There are no flowers there.

He said: No flowers, but a crown.

I said: But the sky is black, there is

Nothing but noise and din.

But He wept as He sent me back,

“There is more,” He said. “There is sin.”

I said: But the air is thick, and fogs are

veiling the sun.

He answered: Yet souls are sick, and

souls in the dark undone.

I said: I shall miss the light, and friends

will miss me, they say.

He answered me: Choose tonight, if I

am to miss you, or they.

I pleaded for time to be given;

He said: Is it hard to decide?

It will not seem hard in heaven to have

Followed the steps of your Guide.

I cast one look at the fields,

Then set my face to the town;

He said: My child, do you yeild? Will

You leave the flowers for the crown?

Then into His hand went mine,

And into my heart came He;

And I walk in a light Divine,

The path I had feared to see.

After dying, three friends, XX, YY and ZZ wake up outside of heaven. St Peter says that before any can enter, they have to pass through a bog. All those who pass through sink in proportion to the amount of unconfessed sins they had when they died. XX launches out and immediately begins to sink. He struggles onward, and finally pushed to the opposite side, just as the mud reaches his neck. He looks back, and sees his friend YY walking across, his shoes barely sinking in the mire. XX says, “I can’t believe it. I never would have thought you were so holy!” YY replies, “Oh, I’m just standing on ZZ’s shoulders.”

The loving mother teaches her child to walk alone. She is far enough from him so that she cannot actually support him. She holds out her arms. Her face beckons like a reward, an encouragement. The child constantly strives toward a refuge in her embrace, little suspecting that in the very same moment he is emphasizing his need for her, he is proving that he can do without her. - Soren Kierkegaard

Christopher D. Green writes:

"I cannot explain why I do it, but I have always walked in the dark. When I was a kid I used to do it more as a challenge; an adventure. Now as an adult, I suppose it is more out of habit than anything else.

"If I get up in the middle of the night, I refuse to turn on the lights. Instead of simply flipping a switch and lighting my way, I wander around in the dark, relying on my sixth sense to guide me. Usually, I guess from all these years of practice, I can get to my intended destination without incident. However, a few nights ago proved to be one of exception and painful consequence.

"After being in bed for an hour or so, I got up to get a drink of water. With my mouth as dry as the inside of a Kleenex box, I shuffled down the hall half asleep but still awake enough to enjoy the tickling feeling the carpet made on my feet. As I cleared the end of the hall, it felt good to pause by the heater. Continuing on only a few shuffles more, I met my doom. I think I actually felt the pain before it happened. With one fairly innocent shuffle, I crashed my foot into the dining room chair. The force was so great it knocked the chair over, and left me in a painful pile on the floor. The scream was muffled only because I had a mouth full of plush pile carpet. If I had only turned on the light, I would have avoided the pain!

"Too often Christians forget that they should not spiritually walk around in the dark. Not only should they avoid the darkness, they should also be a light that exposes the evil that is found in darkness.

"Remember that if we 'walk in the light as He is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus, His Son, purifies us from every sin' (1Jo 1:7)."

A retired couple decided that they should walk two miles a day to stay in shape. They chose to walk a mile out on a lonely country road so they would have no choice but to walk back. At the one-mile mark on their first venture, the man asked his wife, “Do you think you can make it back all right, or are you too tired?”

“Oh, no,” she said. “I’m not tired. I can make it fine.”

“Good,” he replied. “I’ll wait here. You go back, get the car and come get me.”

Oh! for a closer walk with God;

A calm and heavenly frame;

A light to shine upon the road

That leads me to the Lamb!

Where is the blessedness I knew

When first I saw the Lord?

Where is the soul-refreshing view

Of Jesus and His Word?

What peacful hours I once enjoy’d!

How sweet their memory still!

But they have left an aching void,

The world can never fill.

Return, O holy Dove, return

Sweet Messenger of rest!

I hate the sins that made Thee mourn,

And drove Thee from my breast.

The dearest idol I have known,

Whate’er that idol be,

Help me to tear it from Thy throne,

And worship only Thee.

So shall my walk be close with God,

Calm and serene my frame;

So purer light shall mark the road

That leads me to the Lamb.

“Almost half of children of divorces enter adulthood as worried, underachieving, self-deprecating, and sometimes angry young men and women.” reports Judith Wallerstein, director of the Center for the Family in Transition and author of Second Chance (Ticknor & Fields, 1988). Her conclusion is drawn from interviews conducted over a 15 year period with 60 families, mostly white middle class.

Other Wallerstein findings: Three out of five youngsters felt rejected by at least one parent. Half grew up in settings in which the parents were warring with each other even after the divorce.

The new minister was asked to teach a boys’ class in the absence of the regular teacher. He decided to see what they knew, so he asked who knocked down the walls of Jericho. All the boys denied having done it, and the preacher was appalled by their ignorance.

At the next deacons’ meeting he told about the experience. “Not one of them knows who knocked down the walls of Jericho,” he lamented. The group was silent until finally one seasoned veteran of disputes spoke up. “Preacher, this appears to be bothering you a lot. But I’ve known all those boys since they were born and they’re good boys. If they said they didn’t know, I believe them. Let’s just take some money out of the repair and maintenance fund, fix the walls, and let it go at that.”

During a Monday night football game between the Chicago Bears and the New York Giants, one of the announcers observed that Walter Payton, the Bears’ running back, had accumulated over nine miles in career rushing yardage. The other announcer remarked, “Yeah, and that’s with somebody knocking him down every 4.6 yards!”

Walter Payton, the most successful running back ever, knows that everyone—even the very best—gets knocked down. The key to success is to get up and run again just as hard.

- Jeff Quandt

His initials were W.W., and in the 1930s and 1940s they were enough to identify him to most of America. He was widely considered the creator of modern gossip writing, and in his heyday this rude, abrasive, egotistical and witty man was the country’s best known and most widely read journalist and one of its most influential. In 1943, when there were 140 million people in the United States, more than 50 million of them read his gossip column every day in more than 1000 newspapers, including his flagship, The New York Daily Mirror. Even more people listened to his weekly radio broadcast. Hated, feared and revered, he presided over Table 50 of the Stork Club in New York, creating and destroying celebrities at the drop of his trademark gray snap-brim fedora.

Yet when he died in 1972, at age 74, he was practically forgotten. Only two people attended his funeral; his daughter, Walda, and the rabbi who officiated at his services. Today, not many people under 40 even know the name of Walter Winchell.

Architect Frank Lloyd Wright once told of an incident that may have seemed insignificant at the time, but had a profound influence on the rest of his life. The winter he was 9, he went walking across a snow-covered field with his reserved, no-nonsense uncle. As the two of them reached the far end of the field, his uncle stopped him. He pointed out his own tracks in the snow, straight and true as an arrow’s flight, and then young Frank’s tracks meandering all over the field.

“Notice how your tracks wander aimlessly from the fence to the cattle to the woods and back again,” his uncle said. “And see how my tracks aim directly to my goal. There is an important lesson in that.”

Years later the world-famous architect liked to tell how this experience had greatly contributed to his philosophy in life. “I determined right then,” he’d say with a twinkle in his eye, “not to miss most things in life, as my uncle had.”

There was a young civil engineer of western Kentucky who assisted his father in his business of railroad prospecting and surveying. As he traveled from place to place, he fell into the society of loose men and acquired intemperate habits, more than his father seemed to be aware of. He shrewdly managed to conceal his evil habits from his parents who were wonderful Christians, the father being the choir leader and the mother a soprano soloist. Once, while the young man was employed on a section of road forty miles from home, it became necessary to lay over from Thursday noon till Monday. His father would be detained till Saturday, reaching home in time for the choir rehearsal. The son, instead of going to his home, went to a bar to begin a spree. The bartender understood his case too well and kept him hidden in his own apartment. When his father came home, he expected to find the boy there. Trouble began when the question, "Where is Harry?" informed the startled mother that he should have come earlier. During the Sunday evening service she was to sing a solo, and by special request-because she sang it so well-her selection was to be, "Where Is My Wandering Boy?" It seemed impossible to her to sing that song under the circumstances. When on Sunday morning, a policeman found Harry, the certainty was no more comforting than the suspense had been. She was advised that he would be "all right tomorrow morning," and that she had better not see him until he sobered up. Toward Sunday night Harry began to come to himself.

His father had hired a man to stay with him and see to his recovery. When Harry learned that his mother had been told of his plight, the information cut him to the heart and helped to sober him. When the bells rang, he decided to go to church. He knew nothing of the evening program. He was still in his working clothes, but no reasoning could dissuade him. His attendant, after making him as presentable as possible, went with him to the service. Entering early by a side door, they found seats in a secluded corner, but not far from the pulpit and the organ. After the usual succession of prayer, anthem, and sermon, the time for the solo came. It was probably the first time in that church that a mother had ever sung out of her own soul's distress:

Oh, where is my wandering boy tonight,

The child of my love and care?

Every word was to her own heart a cruel stab. The congregation caught the feeling of the song, but there was one heart as near to breaking as her own. She sang the last stanza,

Go for my wandering boy tonight,

Go search for him where you will,

But bring him to me with all his blight,

And tell him I love him still.

Oh, where is my wandering boy?

Just then a young man in a woolen shirt, corduroy trousers and jacket made his way down the aisle to the choir stairs with outstretched arms, and sobbing like a child, cried, "Here I am, Mother!" The mother ran down the steps and folded him in her arms. The astonished organist, quick to take in the meaning of the scene, pulled out all his stops and played, "Praise God From Whom All Blessings Flow." The congregation joined in the great doxology, while the father, the pastor, and the friends of the returned prodigal stood by him with moist eyes and welcoming hands.

The coach said to the quarterback, "Give the ball to George." But instead he gave it to John, and there was no gain.

Demanded the coach, "Why didn't you give the ball to George?"

"Sir," replied the quarterback, "George said he did not want the ball."

There was a player on our Lord's side named Demas. Like George, he did not want to carry the ball. He valued comfort above character, ease above effort, gold above God, self-indulgence above self-control.

Of him Paul wrote, "Demas has forsaken me, having loved the present world."

Are you willing to carry the ball for the Lord?

All he ever really wanted in life was more. He wanted more money, so he parlayed inherited wealth into a billion-dollar pile of assets. He wanted more fame, so he broke into the Hollywood scene and soon became a filmmaker and star. He wanted more sensual pleasures, so he paid handsome sums to indulge his every sexual urge. He wanted more thrills, so he designed, built, and piloted the fastest aircraft in the world. He wanted more power, so he secretly dealt political favors so skillfully that two U.S. presidents became his pawns. All he ever wanted was more. He was absolutely convinced that more would bring him true satisfaction. Unfortunately, history shows otherwise. He concluded his life emaciated; colorless; sunken chest; fingernails in grotesque, inches-long corkscrews; rotting, black teeth; tumors; innumerable needle marks from his drug addiction. Howard Hughes died believing the myth of more. He died a billionaire junkie, insane by all reasonable standards.

There is a story to the effect that a certain society in South Africa once wrote to David Livingston, "Have you found a good road to where you are? If so, we want to know how to send other men to join you."

Livingston replied, "If you have men who will come ONLY if they know there is a good road, I don't want them. I want men who will come even if there is no road at all."

Had the people, during the Revolution, had any suspicion of any attempt to war against Christianity, that Revolution would have been strangled in its cradle...At the time of the adoption of the constitution and the amendments, the universal sentiment was that Christianity should be encouraged, not any one sect...in this age there can be no substitute for Christianity...That was the religion of the founders of the republic and they expected it to remain the religion of their descendants...the great vital and conservative element in our system is the belief of our people in the pure doctrines and divine truths of the gospel of Jesus Christ.

When Ronald Reagan succeeded Edmund G. Brown as governor of California in 1967, Brown told him:

“There is a passage in War and Peace that every new governor with a big majority should tack on his office wall. In it Count Rostov, after weeks as the toast of elegant farewell parties, gallops off on his first cavalry charge and finds real bullets snapping at his ears. ‘Why, they’re shooting at me,’ he says. ‘Me, whom everyone loves!’”

Inge Kraus doesn’t know who she really is; she only knows that people call her by that name. She was just four years old in April, 1945, when Russian troops attacked Konigsberg, the capital of what was then East Prussia. Inge remembers a strong man lifting her onto a wagon filled with people as Soviet artillery rained down upon the city she knew as home. She survived but was separated from her family and placed in an orphanage in Germany. Inge recently attended a gathering of war exiles from her city, tearfully hoping that someone might recognize her—but to no avail.

Dana Keeton told this story in The Democratic Union of Lawrenceburg, Tennessee:

The sun had just risen on a hot August day in 1944 in the small village of Plelo, in German-occupied France. The 15-year-old boy did not know why he and the other citizens of Plelo had been lined up before a firing squad in the middle of the town square. Perhaps they were being punished for harboring a unit of Marquisards, the French underground freedom fighters. Perhaps they were merely to satisfy the blood lust of the German commanding officer who, the evening before, had routed the small group of Marquisard scouts. All the boy knew was that he was about to die.

As he stood before the firing squad, he remembered the carefree days of his early childhood, before the war, spent roaming the green of the French countryside. He thought about all he would miss by never growing up. Most of all he was terrified of dying. How will the bullets feel ripping through my body? he wondered. He hoped no one could hear the whimperings coming from deep in his throat every time he exhaled.

Suddenly, the boy heard the sound of exploding mortar shells beyond the limits of his little village. Quickly rolling tanks could also be heard. The Germans were forced to abandon the firing squad and face a small unit of U.S. tanks with twenty GI’s led by Bob Hamsley, a corporal in Patton’s Third Army. A Marquisard captain had asked Hamsley for help. After three hours, fifty Nazis were dead, and the other fifty were taken prisoner.

In 1990 the town of Plelo honored Bob Hamsley on the very spot where dozens of the town’s citizens would have died if not for him. The man who initiated the search for Hamsley and the ceremony honoring him was the former mayor of Plelo, that same 15-year-old boy. He had determined to find the man who saved his life and honor him.

It’s hard to forget your savior.

Have you ever seen a tailor place a piece of absorbent paper over a spot of grease and press down on it with a hot iron? Why does he do it? The heat melts the grease, and the paper absorbs it. Real love absorbs the spots in the lives of others, making them feel the warmth of our own hearts for them.

Henry Ward Beecher, while walking down a street, passed a newsboy shivering in the cold. Being moved with compassion toward him, the great preacher bought up all his newspapers, and when he handed over the money to him, he said, "Surely you are cold?" "I was," replied the lad with a gulp, "till you passed, sir."

R. Dunkerly, in Resource, No. 2

“Caution: Cape does not enable user to fly.”

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.

Society of International Law, in London, states that during the last 4,000 years there have been only 268 years of peace in spite of good peace treaties. In the last 3 centuries there have been 286 wars on the continent of Europe alone.

While my wife and I were shopping at a mall kiosk, a shapely young woman in a short, form-fitting dress strolled by. My eyes followed her. Without looking up from the item she was examining, my wife asked, “Was it worth the trouble you’re in?”

In 1818, Ignaz Phillip Semmelweis was born into a world of dying women. The finest hospitals lost one out of six young mothers to the scourge of “childbed fever.” A doctor’s daily routine began in the dissecting room where he performed autopsies. From there he made his way to the hospital to examine expectant mothers without ever pausing to wash his hands. Dr. Semmelweis was the first man in history to associate such examinations with the resultant infection and death. His own practice was to wash with a chlorine solution, and after eleven years and the delivery of 8,537 babies, he lost only 184 mothers—about one in fifty.

He spent the vigor of his life lecturing and debating with his colleagues. Once he argued, “Puerperal fever is caused by decomposed material, conveyed to a wound. . .I have shown how it can be prevented. I have proved all that I have said. But while we talk, talk, talk, gentlemen, women are dying. I am not asking anything world shaking. I am asking you only to wash....For God’s sake, wash your hands.”

But virtually no one believed him. Doctors and midwives had been delivering babies for thousands of years without washing, and no outspoken Hungarian was going to change them now! Semmelweis died insane at the age of 47, his wash basins discarded, his colleagues laughing in his face, and the death rattle of a thousand women ringing in his ears.

“Wash me!” was the anguished prayer of King David. “Wash!” was the message of John the Baptist. “Unless I wash you, you have no part with me,” said the towel-draped Jesus to Peter. Without our being washed clean, we all die from the contamination of sin. For God’s sake, wash!

If you don’t wash your hands, you’re threatening your own health as well as the health of others, especially if you’re involved in handling food, at work or at home. More than forty million people get sick every year from hand-carried bacteria, say health experts. Washing your hands is the simplest but most important thing you can do to control the spread of infectious diseases.

A new device that costs three thousand dollars had been devised to check restaurant employees to make sure they wash their hands after visiting the washroom. Keeping clean is expensive, but spreading germs costs even more. It’s good to pray “Wash me” (Ps. 51:2, 7), but don’t forget that God expects us to wash ourselves (Isa. 1:16; 2 Cor. 7:1).

In typical fashion, when George Allen moved to Washington, D.C., as head coach of the Redskins, he promised the nation’s capital the moon. He told them it would be just a few seasons before he would develop the Redskins into a championship football team. He promised them the Super Bowl by the second season.

The team had a brilliant preseason that first year. Then, early in the regular season, they won several amazing victories. It appeared the Redskins were to be lifted from their common role of loser to the uncommon role of winner. As time passed, however, the inevitable occurred. They began to lose and lose and lose. The blame fell, at least in part, not on Coach George Allen, but on a quarterback named Sonny Jurgenson, in my opinion one of the most gifted and effective quarterbacks to ever play the game. Jurgenson possesses a quality I deeply admire: personal security. It seems as though no one can intimidate Sonny Jurgenson.

One day after another defeat, Sonny was getting ready to take a shower and go home. A sportswriter leaned over to him in the locker room and said, “Say, Sonny, be honest now. Don’t all these off-the-wall remarks we write and all this public flack disturb you? Doesn’t it make you want to quit when people throw things at you from the stands and when you get those dirty letters?”

Sonny just leaned back, gave a big, toothless grin, and sighed, “No, not really, I don’t want to quit. I’ve been in this game long enough to know that every quarterback, every week of the season, spends his time either in the penthouse or in the outhouse.”

Sonny’s comment points out an important fact. It is true that if you are a leader, you spend your time either on the top or on the bottom. You seldom know what it’s like to be in between. You are either the hero or the villain. You are respected or you are virtually hated. People in leadership must live on the yo-yo of public opinion, under the gun of verbal jabs as well as on the crest of great admiration. Being “in the outhouse” is a lot more difficult than those choice times “in the penthouse.” It’s when we are under verbal attack of the intimidating public that we show our colors.

I have discovered, after a number of years in the ministry, that this is true even in the spiritual realm. You commit yourself to a life of faith, you declare before God and man that you are going to walk with Him regardless, and suddenly, it happens! The enemy turns every gun he can upon you to blast you out of the saddle, to make you finish your season in defeat, to have you think that it’s really not worth it after all.

When the Washington Territory was ready for statehood in 1889, there was a proposal to call it Columbia, in honor of the mighty Columbia River. Legislators rejected the idea in the fear that our 42nd state would then be confused with the District of Columbia. So they stuck with their original choice, and named it Washington.

Theoretically, television may be feasible, but I consider it an impossibility—a development which we should waste little time dreaming about.

All blame is a waste of time. No matter how much fault you find with another, and regardless of how much you blame him, it will not change you. The only thing blame does is to keep the focus off you when you are looking for external reasons to explain your unhappiness or frustration. You may succeed in making another feel guilty of something by blaming him, but you won’t succeed in changing whatever it is about you that is making you unhappy.

Charles Francis Adams, the 19th century political figure and diplomat, kept a diary. One day he entered: “Went fishing with my son today—a day wasted.”

His son, Brook Adams, also kept a diary, which is still in existence. On that same day, Brook Adams made this entry: “Went fishing with my father—the most wonderful day of my life!”

The father thought he was wasting his time while fishing with his son, but his son saw it as an investment of time. The only way to tell the difference between wasting and investing is to know one’s ultimate purpose in life and to judge accordingly.

Today, in Hangar 5, in John F. Kennedy Airport 's Cargo Area D is a warehouse full of items intended for the victims of 9-11. The facility was originally built to house 747s; it’s one of two dozen warehouses run by the Salvation Army that were once bulging with donations from well meaning Americans. The towels, blankets, rubber boots, flashlights, stuffed animals remain in storage because very little of it was needed in the first place.

In this case, most of the goods were distributed to charities who can store the items and distribute them as needed in the future, but sometimes the donations are wasted. After Hurricane Andrew in 1993, so many goods were donated that officials had to take them to the landfill where they were burned and bulldozed with other garbage. According to emergency workers, surplus donations almost always happen .

Experience proves that most time is wasted, not in hours, but in minutes. A bucket with a small hole in the bottom gets just as empty as a bucket that is deliberately kicked over.

Charles Francis Adams, 19th century political figure and diplomat, kept a diary. One day he entered: “Went fishing with my son today—a day wasted.”

His son, Brook Adams, also kept a diary, which is still in existence. On that same day, Brook Adams made this entry: “Went fishing with my father—the most wonderful day of my life!”

The father thought he was wasting his time while fishing with his son, but his son saw it as an investment of time. The only way to tell the difference between wasting and investing is to know one’s ultimate purpose in life and to judge accordingly.

Watch your thoughts; they become words.

Watch your words; they become actions.

Watch your actions; they become habits.

Watch your habits; they become character.

Watch your character; it becomes your destiny.

The average number of hours that a U.S. household with a pay cable hookup spends watching TV each week is only nine minutes less than 60 hours! That works out to nearly two-and-a-half days per week. A household with basic cable spends 54 hours and 35 minutes before the tube, while a household without cable TV spends 47 hours and 17 minutes.

J. Edgar Hoover ran the FBI, no question about it. As a result, almost all of his subordinates were on the lookout for ways to impress their powerful boss. A young FBI man was put in charge of the FBI’s supply department. In an effort to cut some costs and impress his boss, he reduced the size of the office memo paper. One of the new memo sheets soon ended up on Hoover’s desk. Hoover took one look at it, determined he didn’t like the size of the margins on the paper, and quickly scribbled on the memo, “Watch the borders!”

The memo was passed on through the office. For the next six weeks, it was extremely difficult to enter the United States by road from either Mexico or Canada. The FBI was watching the borders.

Why was the FBI watching the borders? They thought they had received a warning from their chief. But they hadn’t. They had transformed an innocuous comment into a solemn warning.

Communicating with a target market means more than tossing out catchy slogans. A few companies learned this the hard way when they tried to translate their catchy English slogans directly into Spanish.

Braniff beckoned its passengers to “Fly in Leather,” and Eastern Airlines proclaimed that “We Earn Our Wings Daily.” Both of these now-defunct airlines were terribly mistaken. A Spanish speaker would think Braniff was asking its riders to “Fly Naked,” and a Spanish translation of the Eastern slogan evoked a final destination in heaven, following death.

A few classic marketing blunders: General Motors discovered too late that “Nova” literally means “Doesn’t go” in Spanish.

Coors encouraged its English-speaking customers to “Turn It Loose,” but the phrase in Spanish meant “Suffer from Diarrhea.”

Budweiser’s “King of Beers” becomes “Queen of Beers” in Spanish because the Spanish word for beer, “cerveza,” has a feminine ending.

And when Frank Perdue said, “It Takes a Tough Man to Make a Tender Chicken,” Spanish speakers heard “It Takes a Sexually Stimulated Man to Make a Chicken Affectionate.”

The story is told of an old lady who rented a cottage for the summer. With the cottage was also a dog. The old lady liked a very comfortable armchair better than any other in the house. She always made for it the first thing. But, alas! she nearly always found the chair occupied by the dog. Being afraid of the dog, she never dared bid it harshly to get out of the chair, but instead she would go to the window and call "Cats!" Then the dog would rush to the window and bark, and the old lady would slip quietly into the vacant chair.

One day the dog entered the room and found the old lady in possession of the chair. He strolled over to the window, and looking out, appeared very much excited and set up a tremendous barking. The old lady arose and hastened to the window to see what was the matter, and the dog quietly climbed into the chair.

Deceits practiced on others will sooner or later be repaid against ourselves.

"Bread of a deceit is sweet to a man; but afterwards his mouth shall be filled with gravel" (Pro 20:17).

Once that great Puritan preacher, Thomas Manton, had to speak before the Lord Mayor and Aldermen of London. He chose a subject in which he had an opportunity of displaying his learning and judgment. He was heard with admiration by the intelligent part of his audience, but as he was returning from dinner with the Lord Mayor, a poor man pulled him by the sleeve and asked if he were the gentleman that preached the sermon. He replied that he was. "Sir," said the man, "I came with the hopes of getting some good to my soul, but I was greatly disappointed, for I could not get a great deal of what you said; you were quite above my understanding." "Friend," said Dr. Manton, "if I have not given you a sermon, you have given me one. By the grace of God, I will not play the fool in such a manner again."

Be careful and cautious how you criticize. The man who had a good opinion of himself and his own virtues and thought he was so much better than anyone else, stopped in front of a taxidermist's window, in which there was an owl which had attracted quite a crowd of sightseers.

So sure he was far superior in his knowledge of birds, he remarked, "Well, if I couldn't stuff an owl better than that, I would quit the business. The head is not right; the pose of the body is awkward; the feathers are not right; and the feet are not under it right." Just then the owl turned its head and gave him a quick wink or two.

The crowd roared. They turned to comment to him; but he slunk away as fast as he could go.

In some countries you have to watch your Ps and Qs. In Mexico, however, when you take a bath or shower, better watch your Hs and Cs as well. An “H” on the faucet means Helado—cold. A “C” means caliente—hot. For the unsuspecting, the result can be a bit surprising.

In his book Sit, Walk, Stand, Watchman Nee describes a preaching mission to an island off the South China coast. There were seven in the ministering group, including a sixteen-year-old new convert whom he calls Brother Wu.

The island was fairly large, containing about 6,000 homes. Nee had a contact there, an old schoolmate of his who was headmaster of the village school, but he refused to house the group when he discovered they had come to preach the Gospel. Finally, they found lodging with a Chinese herbalist, who became their first convert. Preaching seemed quite fruitless on the island, and Nee discovered it was because of the dedication of the people there to an idol they called Ta-wang. They were convinced of his power because on the day of his festival and parade each year the weather was always near perfect.

“When is the procession this year?” young Wu asked a group that had gathered to hear them preach.

“It is fixed for January 11th at 8 in the morning,” was the reply.

“Then,” said the new convert, “I promise you that it will certainly rain on the 11th.”

At that there was an outburst of cries from the crowd: “That is enough! We don’t want to hear any more preaching. If there is rain on the 11th, then your God is God!”

Watchman Nee had been elsewhere in the village when this confrontation had taken place. Upon being informed about it, he saw that the situation was serious and called the group to prayer.

On the morning of the 11th, there was not a cloud in the sky, but during grace for breakfast, sprinkles began to fall and these were followed by heavy rain.

Worshipers of the idol Ta-wang were so upset that they placed it in a sedan chair and carried it outdoors, hoping this would stop the rain. Then the rain increased. After only a short distance, the carriers of the idol stumbled and fell, dropping the idol and fracturing its jaw and left arm.

A number of young people turned to Christ as a result of the rain coming in answer to prayer, but the elders of the village made divination and said that the wrong day had been chosen. The proper day of the procession, they said, should have been the 14th.

When Nee and his friends heard this, they again went to prayer, asking for rain on the 14th and for clear days for preaching until then. That afternoon the sky cleared and on the good days that followed there were thirty converts. Of the crucial test day, Nee says: The 14th broke, another perfect day, and we had good meetings. As the evening approached we met again at the appointed hour. We quietly brought the matter to the Lord’s remembrance. Not a minute late, His answer came with torrential rain and floods as before.

The power of the idol over the islanders was broken; the enemy was defeated. Believing prayer had brought a great victory. Conversions followed. And the impact upon the servants of God who had witnessed His power would continue to enrich their Christian service from that time on.

A friend of mine awoke one morning to find a puddle of water in the middle of his king-size water bed. In order to fix the puncture, he rolled the heavy mattress outdoors and filled it with more water so he could locate the leak more easily. The enormous bag of water was impossible to control and began rolling on the hilly terrain. He tried to hold it back, but it headed downhill and landed in a clump of bushes which poked it full of holes.

Disgusted, my friend threw out the water-bed frame and moved a standard bed into his room. The next morning, he awoke to find a puddle of water in the middle of the new bed. The upstairs bathroom had a leaky drain.

Its source, in God Jeremiah 2:13; Psalm 36:9

Its flow, from Christ John 4:14; Revelation 22:1

Its channels, through believers John 7:38-9

Its receivers, the thirsty Isaiah 55:1; Rev. 22:6

Driving up from Beersheba, a combined force of British, Australians and New Zealanders were pressing on the rear of the Turkish retreat over arid desert. The attack outdistanced its water carrying camel train. Water bottles were empty. The sun blazed pitilessly out of a sky where the vultures wheeled expectantly. “Our heads ached,” writes Gilbert, “and our eyes became bloodshot and dim in the blinding glare...Our tongues began to swell...Our lips turned a purplish black and burst.” Those who dropped out of the column were never seen again, but the desperate force battled on to Sheria. There were wells at Sheria, and had they been unable to take the place by nightfall, thousands were doomed to die of thirst.

“We fought that day,” writes Gilbert, “as men fight for their lives... We entered Sheria station on the heels of the retreating Turks. The first objects which met our view were the great stone cisterns full of cold, clear, drinking water. In the still night air the sound of water running into the tanks could be distinctly heard, maddening in its nearness; yet not a man murmured when orders were given for the battalions to fall in, two deep, facing the cisterns. He then describes the stern priorities: the wounded, those on guard duty, then company by company.

It took four hours before the last man had his drink of water, and in all that time they had been standing twenty feet from a low stone wall on the other side of which were thousands of gallons of water.

I have observed the power of the watermelon seed. It has the power of drawing from the ground and through itself 200,000 times its weight. When you can tell me how it takes this material and out of it colors an outside surface beyond the imitation of art, and then forms inside of it a white rind and within that again a red heart, thickly inlaid with black seeds, each one of which in turn is capable of drawing through itself 200,000 times its weight—when you can explain to me the mystery of a watermelon, you can ask me to explain the mystery of God. - William Jennings Bryan

William Jennings Bryan got more than refreshment from a piece of watermelon:

"I was eating a piece of watermelon some months ago when I was struck with its beauty. I took some of the seeds and dried them and weighed them, and found that it would require some 5,000 seeds to weigh a pound; and then I applied mathematics to that 40-pound melon.

"One of these seeds, put into the ground, when warmed by the sun and moistened by the rain, takes off its coat and goes to work; it gathers from somewhere two hundred thousand times its own weight, and forcing this raw material through a tiny stem, constructs a watermelon. It ornaments the outside with a covering of green; inside the green it puts a layer of white, and within the white a core of red, and all through the red it scatters seeds, each one capable of continuing the work of reproduction.

"Who drew the plan by which that little seed works? Where does it get its tremendous strength? Where does it find its coloring matter? How does it collect its flavoring extract? How does it develop a watermelon?

"Until you can explain a watermelon, do not be too sure that you can set limits to the power of the Almighty and say just what He would do or how He would do it."

A group of ministers and a salesman’s organization were holding conventions in the same hotel, and the catering department had to work at top speed serving dinners to both. The salesmen were having spiked watermelon for dessert. But the chef discovered that it was being served to the ministers by mistake. “Quick!” he commanded a waiter. “Bring it back!” The waiter returned, reporting that it was too late. The ministers were already eating the liquor-spiced treat. “Do they like it?” asked the chef. “Don’t know,” replied the waiter, “but they’re putting the seeds in their pockets.”

Watts of power used by the human brain when it’s engaged in deep thought: 14

Watts required to operate an IBM personal computer: 90

Watts of power used by the human brain when it’s engaged in deep thought: 14

Watts required to operate an IBM personal computer: 90

Pakistan in 1947. A fellow Hindu approaches to confess a great wrong. “I killed a child,” says the distraught man. “I smashed his head against a wall.”

“Why?” asks the Mahatma (Hindu for “Great Soul”).

“They killed my boy. The Moslems killed my son.”

“I know a way out of hell,” says Gandhi. “Find a child, a little boy whose mother and father have been killed, and raise him as your own. Only be sure he is a Moslem--and that you raise him as one.”

The teacher in our adult-education creative-writing class told us to write “I love you” in 25 words or less, without using the words “I love you.” She gave us 15 minutes. A woman in the class spent about ten minutes looking at the ceiling and wriggling in her seat. The last five minutes she wrote frantically, and later read us the results:

“Why, I’ve seen lots worse hairdos than that, honey.”

“These cookies are hardly burned at all.”

“Cuddle up—I’ll get your feet warm.”

1. Before you say anything to anyone, ask yourself three questions: 1) is it true? 2) is it kind? 3) is it necessary?

2. Make promises sparingly and keep them faithfully.

3. Never miss an opportunity to compliment or say something encouraging.

4. Refuse to talk negatively about others and don’t listen when others do.

5. Have a forgiving view of people. Believe that most people are doing the best they can.

6. Keep an open mind; discuss, don’t argue.

7. Forget about counting to 10. Count to 1,000 before saying or doing anything that could make matters worse.

8. Let your virtues speak for themselves.

9. If someone criticizes you, see if there is any truth to what he is saying; if so, make changes.

10. Cultivate your sense of humor.

11. “Do not seek so much to be consoled, as to console; do not seek so much to be understood as to understand; do not seek so much to be loved as to love.”

1. Before you say anything to anyone, ask yourself three questions: a) is it true? b) is it kind? c) is it necessary?

2. Make promises sparingly and keep them faithfully.

3. Never miss an opportunity to compliment or say something encouraging.

4. Refuse to talk negatively about others and don’t listen when others do.

5. Have a forgiving view of people. Believe that most people are doing the best they can.

6. Keep an open mind; discuss, don’t argue.

7. Forget about counting to 10. Count to 1,000 before saying or doing anything that could make matters worse.

8. Let your virtues speak for themselves.

9. If someone criticizes you, see if there is any truth to what he is saying; if so, make changes.

10. Cultivate your sense of humor.

11. “Do not seek so much to be consoled, as to console; do not seek so much to be understood as to understand; do not seek so much to be loved as to love.”

When a believer is depressed it is difficult for them to sense God’s presence. A loving and listening friend can be a tangible representation of the Comforter.

1. Encourage them to talk and cry. Verbalizing helps to organize thoughts and put them into perspective.

2. Be a good listener. Wait until they are done talking. Tell them simply that you care.

3. Give answers sparingly. The depressed person often lacks the ability to absorb or act on good advice. Well-intended counsel can be twisted into insult in the confused mind.

4. Pray daily for God’s plan to be played out. God knows, and He is in control.

5. Pray for right to prevail over evil. The enemy will take advantage of the vulnerable.

6. Call or visit frequently. Offer your help.

7. Offer social invitations. The tendency to withdraw only deepens the loneliness.

8. Your friend’s spouse may be confused by her mate’s changed temperament. Pray for the spouse, too.

9. Mail Scripture verses that declare God’s faithfulness and love.

10. The lie of despair is that no one can understand. Wait until you are asked, then assure your friend that there are people who can help. Accumulate referrals to professional resources.

Dr. Charles Stanley, pastor of a large church in Atlanta, Ga., has suggested ten ways to pray for leaders who occupy the highest offices in the land.

1. Pray that they would realize their daily need for cleansing of their sin by Jesus Christ.

2. Pray that they would recognize their personal inadequacy to fulfill their tasks and that they would depend upon God for knowledge, wisdom, and the courage to do what is right.

3. Pray that they would reject all counsel that violates spiritual principles, trusting God to prove them right.

4. Pray that they would resist those who would pressure them to violate their conscience.

5. Pray that they would reverse the trends of socialism and humanism in this nation, both of which deify man rather than God.

6. Pray that they would be ready to sacrifice their personal ambitions and political careers for the sake of this nation, if yielding them would be in the best interest of their country.

7. Pray that they would rely upon prayer and the Word of God as the source of their daily strength, wisdom and courage.

8. Pray they would restore dignity, honor, trustworthiness, and righteousness to the office they hold.

9. Pray that they would remember to be good examples in their conduct to the fathers, mothers, sons, and daughters of this nation.

10. Pray that they would be reminded daily that they are accountable to Almighty God for the decisions they make.

Looking for a gift or just a unique way to say “I love you?” What do you give when his dresser is full of cologne and you’re both on diets? When she thinks flowers die too soon, and you’ve already spent next month’s paycheck? Here are 21 great inexpensive ways to tell the love of your life just how much you care.

1. Make a homemade card with a picture of the two of you on the cover. Get ideas for a verse by spending a few minutes browsing through a card shop.

2. Write a poem. It doesn’t have to rhyme.

3. Send a love letter listing the reasons “Why I love you so much.”

4. Pledge your love for a lifetime. Write it on calligraphy or design it on a desktop computer and print it out on parchment paper and have it framed.

5. Plan a surprise lunch, complete with picnic basket, sparkling grape juice and goblets.

6. Bake a giant cookie and write “I love you” with heart-shaped red hots or frosting. (Don’t worry about the calories, it’s not for eating!)

7. Make a coupon book and include coupons for a back rub, a compromise when about to lose an argument, a listening ear when needed, and doing the dishes when the other cooks.

8. Kidnap the car for a thorough washing and detailing.

9. Design your personal crest combining symbols that are meaningful to both of you.

10. Compose a love song.

11. Arrange for someone to sing a favorite love song to you and your love when you’re together.

12. Call a radio station and have them announce a love message from you and make sure your love is listening at the right time.

13. Make a big sign such as: “I Love You, Kristi. Love, Joe”, and put it in front of your house or her apartment complex for the world to see.

14. Buy favorite fruits that aren’t in season, like a basket of strawberries or blueberries.

15. Hide little love notes in the car, a coat pocket, or desk.

16. Place a love message in the “personal” section of the classified ads in your local paper.

17. Florist flowers aren’t the only way to say “I love you.” Pluck a single flower and write a message about how its beauty reminds you of your love. For greater impact, have it delivered at work.

18. Prepare a surprise candle light gourmet low-calorie dinner for two.

19. Write the story of the growth of your relationship from your perspective, sharing your emotions and your joys. What atreasure!

20. Make a paperweight from a smooth stone, paint it, and writea special love message on it.

21. Promise to change a habit that your love has been wanting you to change.

Our guilt is great because our sins are exceedingly numerous. It is not merely outward acts of unkindness and dishonesty with which we are chargeable. Our habitual and characteristic state of mind is evil in the sight of God. Our pride and indifference to His will and to the welfare of others and our loving the creature more than the Creator are continuous violations of His holy law. We have never been or done what that law requires us to be and to do. We have never had delight in that fixed purpose to do the will and promote the glory of God. We are always sinners; we are at all times and under all circumstances in opposition to God. If we have never loved Him supremely, if we have never made it our purpose to do His will, if we have never made His glory the end of our actions, then our lives have been an unbroken series of transgressions. Our sins are not to be numbered by the conscious violations of duty; they are as numerous as the moments of our existence.

On a wall in his bedroom Charles Spurgeon had a plaque with Isaiah 48:10 on it: “I have chosen thee in the furnace of affliction.” “It is no mean thing to be chosen of God,” he wrote. “God’s choice makes chosen men choice men....We are chosen, not in the palace, but in the furnace. In the furnace, beauty is marred, fashion is destroyed, strength is melted, glory is consumed; yet here eternal love reveals its secrets, and declares its choice.”

Watchman Nee tells about a new convert who came in deep distress to see him. “No matter how much I pray, no matter how hard I try, I simply cannot seem to be faithful to my Lord. I think I’m losing my salvation.” Nee said, “Do you see this dog here? He is my dog. He is house-trained; he never makes a mess; he is obedient; he is a pure delight to me. Out in the kitchen I have a son, a baby son. He makes a mess, he throws his food around, he fouls his clothes, he is a total mess. But who is going to inherit my kingdom? Not my dog; my son is my heir. You are Jesus Christ’s heir because it is for you that He died.” We are Christ’s heirs, not through our perfection but by means of His grace.

You are free in our time to say that God does not exist; you are free to say that He exists and is evil; you are free to say … that He would like to exist if He could. You may talk of God as a metaphor or mystification; you may water Him down with gallons of long words, or boil Him to the rags of metaphysics; and it is not merely that nobody punishes, but nobody protests. But if you speak of God as a fact, as a thing like a tiger, as a reason for chanting one’s conduct, then the modern world will stop you somehow if it can. We are long past talking about whether an unbeliever should be punished for being irreverent. It is now thought irreverent to be a believer.

Righteousness is an attribute of moral purity belonging to God alone (John 17:25). It is He alone who is truly righteous. No one in the world is righteous in the eyes of the Lord, that is, except the Christian. We are counted righteous in the eyes of God when we receive Jesus by faith (Phil. 3:9). Our righteousness is based on what Jesus did on the cross. The righteousness that was Christ’s is counted to us. We, then, are seen as righteous in the eyes of God. Though we are actually worthy of damnation, we are made righteous (Is. 61:10) by Jesus’ sacrifice on the cross. As a result, will spend eternity in the presence of the holy, pure, loving, kind, gentle, and righteous God. Our righteousness.

Ought we to be surprised when we find ourselves baffled by what God is doing? No! We must not forget who we are. We are not gods; we are creatures, and no more than creatures. As creatures, we have no right or reason to expect that at every point we shall be able to comprehend the wisdom of our Creator. He himself has reminded us, “My thoughts are not your thoughts. . . .As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are. . .my thoughts than your thoughts” (Isa. 55:8-9). furthermore, the King has made it clear to us that it is not his pleasure to disclose all the details of his policy to his human subjects. As Moses declared when he had finished expounding to Israel what God has revealed of his will for them: “The secret things belong unto the Lord our God: but those things which are revealed belong unto us. . .that we may do all the words of this law” (Deut. 29:29, KJV). The principle illustrated here is that God has disclosed his mind and will so far as we need to know it for practical purposes, and we are to take what he has disclosed as a complete and adequate rule for our faith and life. But there will remain “secret things” that he has not made known and that, in this life at least, he does not intend us to discover. And the reasons behind God’s providential dealings sometimes fall into this category.

Job’s case illustrates this. Job was never told about the challenge God met by allowing Satan to plague his servant. All Job knew was that the omnipotent God was morally perfect, and that it would be blasphemously false to deny his goodness under any circumstances. He refused to “curse God” even when his livelihood, his children, and his health had been taken from him (Job 2:9-10). Fundamentally he maintained this refusal to the end, though the well-meant platitudes that his smug friends churned out at him drove him almost crazy and at times forced out of him wild words about God (of which he later repented). Though not without struggle, Job held fast his integrity throughout the time of testing, and maintained his confidence in God’s goodness. And his confidence was vindicated. For when the time of testing ended, after God has come to Job in mercy to renew his humility (40:1-5; 42:1-6), and Job had obediently prayed for his three maddening friends, “the LORD gave Job twice as much as he had before” (42:10, KJV). “Ye have heard of the patience of Job,” writes James, “and have seen the end of the Lord, that the Lord is very pitiful, and of tender mercy” (James 5:11, KJV). Did the bewildering series of catastrophes that overtook Job mean that God has abdicated his throne or abandoned his servant? Not at all, as Job proved by experience. But the reason God had plunged him into darkness was never revealed to him. Now may not God, for wise purposes of his own, treat others of his followers as he treated Job?

According to a January 15, 2989 article in the Lexington Herald-Leader, the family living in a home in West Palm Beach, Florida, told a film crew it was okay to use the front lawn as a set for an episode of “B. L. Stryker” television series. They knew cars would be crashing violently in front of the house. While the front yard was being blown up, the owner of the home was tipped off and called from New York demanding to know what was happening to his house. It seems the people who were living in the house were only tenants and had no right to allow the property to be destroyed as the cameras rolled. Many times we live our lives under the mistaken impression that they belong to us. Paul tells us we were “bought with a price.” We must live as those who know God will call us to account for the ways we have used this life entrusted to us.

Reconciliation is changing for the better a relationship between two or more persons. Theologically it refers to the change of relationship between God and man. We are naturally children of wrath (Eph. 2:3), and are at enmity with God (Eph. 2:11-15); but, “…we were reconciled to God through the death of His Son…” (Rom. 5:10). Because of the death of Jesus, the Christian’s relationship with God is changed for the better. We are now able to have fellowship with Him (1 John 1:3) whereas before we could not. So, we are reconciled to Him (Rom. 5:10-11). The problem of sin that separates us from God (Isaiah 59:2) has been addressed and removed in the cross. It was accomplished by God in Christ (2 Cor. 5:18).

The things we most fear—crashing in an airplane, being killed by a burglar, dying on the operating table—are unlikely ever to happen to us. “We are risk-illiterate,” one safety expert says. “We have a completely distorted view of life’s real perils.” The chance of dying in a commercial airplane crash is just one in 800,000. You are more likely to choke to death on a piece of food. You are twice as likely to be killed playing a sport as you are to be stabbed to death by a stranger. And the chance of dying of a medical complication or mistake is tiny (one in 84,000). You take a far greater risk riding in a car. One in 5000 of us die that way.

The next time you buy a lottery ticket, bear in mind that you are at least 13 times as likely to be struck by lightning as you are to hit the jackpot…In helping to set insurance premiums, actuaries know that this year approximately 765,000 people in America will die of heart disease, 68,000 of pneumonia, 2000 of tuberculosis, 200 in storms and resulting floods, 100 by lightning, another 100 in tornadoes, and 50 of snakebites and bee stings.

Other experts can tell you that, on average, being 30 percent overweight knocks 3.5 years off your life expectancy; being poor reduces it two years; and being a single man slashes almost a decade off your life-span (unmarried females are luckier—they lose just four years off their lives.)…It has been calculated that for every cigarette you smoke, you lose ten minutes off your life expectancy…The grim predictability of mortality rates is something that has long puzzled social scientists.

A few years ago, in fact, Canadian psychologist Gerald Wilde noticed that mortality rates for violent and accidental deaths throughout most of the Western world have remained oddly static all through this century, despite advances in our technology and safety standards. Wilde developed a controversial theory—risk homeostasis—postulating that people tend to embrace a certain level of risk. When something is made safer, they will somehow reassert the original level of danger. If, for example, roads are improved with more and wider lanes, drivers will feel safer and go a little faster, thereby canceling out the benefits that the improved roads confer. Other studies have shown that where an intersection is made safer, the accident rate invariably falls there, but rises to a compensating level elsewhere along the same stretch of road…

As the story goes, an American businessman named Wilson, tired of the Great depression, rising taxes and increasing crime, sold his home and business in 1940 and moved to an island in the Pacific. Balmy and ringed with beautiful beaches, the island seemed like paradise. Its name? Iwo Jima.

Saved by grace, actually Eph. 2:5

Saved through faith, instrumentally Eph. 2:8

Saved by works, evidentially James 2:14

Saved by His life, practically Rom. 5:9

Saved in Hope, prospectively Rom. 8:24

Saved at His coming, eternally Phil. 3:20

The famous Robert Redford was walking one day through a hotel lobby. A woman saw him and followed him to the elevator. "Are you the real Robert Redford?" she asked him with great excitement. As the doors of the elevator closed, he replied, "Only when I am alone!"

Some years ago, I had a little school for young Indian men and women, who came to my home in Oakland, California, from the various tribes in northern Arizona. One of these was a Navajo young man of unusually keen intelligence. One Sunday evening, he went with me to our young people’s meeting. They were talking about the epistle to the Galatians, and the special subject was law and grace. They were not very clear about it, and finally one turned to the Indian and said, “I wonder whether our Indian friend has anything to say about this.”

He rose to his feet and said,

“Well, my friends, I have been listening very carefully, because I am here to learn all I can in order to take it back to my people. I do not understand all that you are talking about, and I do not think you do yourselves. But concerning this law and grace business, let me see if I can make it clear. I think it is like this. When Mr. Ironside brought me from my home we took the longest railroad journey I ever took. We got out at Barstow, and there I saw the most beautiful railroad station and hotel I have ever seen. I walked all around and saw at one end a sign, ‘Do not spit here.’ I looked at that sign and then looked down at the ground and saw many had spitted there, and before I think what I am doing I have spitted myself. Isn’t that strange when the sign say, ‘Do not spit here’?

“I come to Oakland and go to the home of the lady who invited me to dinner today and I am in the nicest home I have been in. Such beautiful furniture and carpets, I hate to step on them. I sank into a comfortable chair, and the lady said, ‘Now, John, you sit there while I go out and see whether the maid has dinner ready.’ I look around at the beautiful pictures, at the grand piano, and I walk all around those rooms. I am looking for a sign; and the sign I am looking for is, ‘Do not spit here,’ but I look around those two beautiful drawing rooms, and cannot find a sign like this. I think ‘What a pity when this is such a beautiful home to have people spitting all over it—too bad they don’t put up a sign!’ So I look all over that carpet, but cannot find that anybody have spitted there. What a queer thing! Where the sign says, ‘Do not spit,’ a lot of people spitted. Where there was no sign at all, in that beautiful home, nobody spitted. Now I understand! That sign is law, but inside the home it is grace. They love their beautiful home, and they want to keep it clean. They do not need a sign to tell them so. I think that explains the law and grace business.”

As he sat down, a murmur of approval went round the room and the leader exclaimed, “I think that is the best illustration of law and grace I have ever heard.”

Sportscaster and former baseball great Ralph Kiner tells the following story: After the season in which I hit 37 home runs, I asked Pittsburgh Pirate general manager Branch Rickey for a raise. He refused. “I led the league in homers,” I reminded him. “Where did we finish?” Rickey asked me. “Last,” I replied. “Well,” Rickey said, “We can finish last without you.”