Pastoral Resources

On a bitterly cold January day several years ago, five-year-old Jimmy Tonglewicz chased a sled onto the glazed ice of Lake Michigan. In a blink of the eye he disappeared beneath the ice. The last words his dad heard were: “Save me, Dad!” Jimmy’s panic-stricken father plunged into the freezing water, but the cold quickly rendered him helpless and he left the scene in an ambulance. For over twenty minutes Jimmy remained submerged beneath the icy waters. When his limp, lifeless body was pulled from the lake by divers, he had no pulse. But he had a lot going for him—especially the cold water! Scientists call what happened the “mammalian diving reflex.” The shock of the cold water allowed Jimmy to live without breathing an abnormally long time. Slowly he came around, and today Jimmy lives a normal life.

For several years a woman had been having trouble getting to sleep at night because she feared burglars. One night her husband heard a noise in the house, so he went downstairs to investigate. When he got there, he did find a burglar. “Good evening,” said the man of the house. “I am pleased to see you. Come upstairs and meet my wife. She has been waiting 10 years to meet you.”

A young man named John saw some ragged boys and invited them to Sunday school. One boy said he would go, but he had no coat. John gave him his coat and went in with him. Years afterward, a teacher of a Bible class told the story. A man in his class said, "I was that boy, and Dr. John G. Patton, one of the most famous missionaries of the ages, gave me his coat."

When the government phased out its surplus commodity food program, one man went early to the last distribution to secure a place in line before the foodstuffs ran out.

A few hours later, he was near the door where the cheese, butter, dry milk and peanut butter were handed out. He saw a friend walking by and called him by name.

He knew the man. Neither his wife nor he had any work for some time. They had four children. The man confirmed that his prospects were poor.

The man in line knew the food would run out soon, but he told the unemployed family man to take his place in the line. The poor man did so and the other went back to the end of the line.

Within a short time the distribution ended and the one who gave up his place had also given up his food.

This is like Jesus Christ, who drew us into His place, while He stepped in ours, taking upon Himself all the consequences of our failures.

Martin of Tours was a man in whom faith and works combined to make him a true Christian. One day he met a beggar who asked for alms. Martin didn't have any money, but he saw that the beggar was freezing, so he gave him what he had. He took off his soldier's overcoat, old and faded as it was, cut it in half, and wrapped half around the beggar. During the night Martin had a dream. He saw heaven opened, and Christ wearing half an overcoat. One of the angels asked, "Lord, why are you wearing that shabby old coat?" Christ answered, "Because my servant gave it to me." It was only a dream, but it illustrates the truth that Christ taught, that whatever we do for others in His name, He accepts as a gift to Him.

C. H. Spurgeon once heard that in a certain part of England one could hear nightingales sing more beautifully than anywhere else. He journeyed there to hear for himself. He secured a room in the inn and was told, "As it begins to get dark, look out on the thorn bush. You will see the nightingale. You will hear his song."

But toward evening it turned cold and started to rain. Spurgeon despaired. Suddenly, he heard the beautiful, thrilling song of the nightingale, clear and sweet. He looked out the window. There perched in the thorn bush, with a cold rain pelting down, the little bird was lifting its voice in a truly beautiful song. He said, "It was so sweet and so beautiful that I do not expect to hear anything so thrilling until I hear the angels sing." Then he mused. "The God of the nightingale is the God whom I serve. In spite of darkness, cold, rain, or thorns-He can also give me songs in the night."

A young man who was trying to establish himself as a peach grower had worked hard and invested all his money in a peach orchard. It blossomed wonderfully but then came a killing frost. He didn't go to church the next Sunday, nor the next, nor the next. His minister went to see him to discover the reason. The young fellow exclaimed, "I'm not coming any more. Do you think I can worship a God who cares for me so little that He would let a frost kill all my peaches?" The old minister looked at him a few moments in silence, then said kindly, "God loves you better than He does your peaches. He knows that while peaches do better without frosts, it is impossible to grow the best men without frosts. His object is to grow men, not peaches." We are sometimes so concerned about our material possessions that we fail to realize that setting our hearts upon them can stunt our spiritual development. God often has to open our eyes to life's real values by taking from us its lesser ones.

Salvation is the fruition of redemption. Redemption purchases salvation, salvation realizes redemption and brings it into our actual experience. Zechariah speaks not so much of salvation as of the "horn of salvation." This bold figure, perhaps, originated in primitive times when mighty hunters, like Nimrod, returning from the chase, loved to grace their tents with the splendid horns of the animals that they had slain: the antlers of the deer, the tusks of the elephant, and the horn, perhaps, of the mighty rhinoceros. And so the word "horn" came to be the figure of beauty, power, and dominion. It has passed into the imagery of inspired prophecy and song, so that we find the earthly powers described by Daniel and John as horns upon the head of the beast.

And so we find the psalmist speaking of God as his Horn of Salvation and his High Tower. In speaking, therefore, of Christ as a Horn of Salvation, Zechariah meant to emphasize the glory and beauty of the Savior, His supreme and universal dominion and His infinite and divine power. It is coronation, singing, "Bring forth the royal diadem, and crown Him Lord of all."

A happily married woman with two children lost both of them. They were buried in the same grave, and she went into a deep emotional collapse. For some years she became as weak and helpless as a little child. She had to be fed by members of her family who ministered to her. One day as her aunt, who was a joyful Christian, took her turn at feeding her, this woman who was unusually despondent that morning said, "Oh, Auntie, you say that God loves us. You say it, and you keep on saying it. I used to think that way, too, but if He loves us, why did He make me as I am?" The aunt, after kissing her gently, said with the wisdom of years, "He hasn't made you yet, child. He's making you now!"

When through fiery trials thy pathway shall lie,

My grace, all-sufficient, shall be thy supply;

The flame shall not hurt thee; I only design

Thy dross to consume and thy gold to refine.

There is a story that when Harry Truman was speaking at a Grange convention in Kansas City, Mrs. Truman and a friend were in the audience. Truman in his speech said, “I grew up on a farm and one thing I know—farming means manure, manure, manure, and more manure.”

At this, Mrs. Truman’s friend whispered to her, “Bess, why on earth don’t you get Harry to say fertilizer?”

“Good Lord, Helen,” replied Mrs. Truman, “You have no idea how many years it has taken me to get him to say manure.”

In a World Series many years ago, the Milwaukee Braves were playing the New York Yankees. Yogi Berra was the catcher for the Yankees, and Henry Aaron was a power hitter for the Braves. Yogi Berra fulfilled his role as catcher, keeping up his chatter behind the plate, trying to keep the spark going for his own teammates, while trying to distract the Milwaukee batters on the other. Once when Henry Aaron came to the plate, Yogi tried to distract him by saying, "Henry, you're holding the bat wrong. You're supposed to hold it so you can read the trademark." Aaron didn't say anything, but when the next pitch came he hit it into the left-field bleachers. He ran around the bases and finally stepped on home plate. Aaron looked at Yogi Berra and said, "I didn't come up here to read." Henry Aaron knew what his purpose was, and he didn�t lose sight of it!

Phillips Brooks, former minister of Boston’s Trinity Episcopal Church, is perhaps best known as the author of “O Little Town of Bethlehem.” He was a very busy pastor, yet he always seemed relaxed and unburdened, willing to take time for anyone in need.

Shortly before Brooks died, a young friend wrote to him and asked the secret of his strength and serenity. In a heartfelt response, Brooks credited his still-growing relationship with Christ.

He wrote, “The more I have thought it over, the more sure it has seemed to me that these last years have had a peace and fullness which there did not used to be. It is a deeper knowledge and truer love of Christ.....I cannot tell you how personal this grows to me. He is here. He knows me and I know Him. It is the most real thing in the world. And every day makes it more real. And one wonders with delight what it will grow to as the years go on.”

At a reception, a famous actor was asked to give a recitation. An old preacher suggested the Twenty-third Psalm. He did it with great oratorical skill and sat down to prolonged applause. Then he turned to the old preacher and asked him to recite the Psalm also. In a weak and trembling voice, the kindly man uttered the same simple verses. But no one applauded this time. People began surreptitiously to wipe away their tears. The actor rose again, "Ladies and gentlemen," he said, "I communicated with your ears and your eyes. I know the words. But my old friend here communicated with your hearts. He knows the Shepherd." Do you know Him?

He does not lead me year by year,

Nor even day by day;

But step by step my path unfolds,

My Lord directs my way.

Tomorrow’s plans I do not know;

I only know this minute.

But he will say, “This is the way,

By faith now walk ye in it.”

And I am glad that it is so,

Today’s enough to bear;

And when tomorrow comes, his grace

Shall far exceed its care.

What need to worry then, or fret?

The God who gave his Son

Holds all my moments in his hand

And gives them one by one.

Robert Klenck writes,

“Over two decades ago, I happened to be in Yankee Stadium on a night when a rookie infielder named Brooks Robinson made his major league debut, entering the game in the middle innings after the regular third baseman was injured. The first play in which he was involved brought to him, simultaneously, a wickedly skidding baseball (thrown by the center fielder) and a pair of slashing spikes presented by a sliding base runner. Robinson made the play with skill and courage and the Yanks were retired.”

“In 1977, near the end of his career, Baltimore fans had a ‘Special Day’ for Brooks Robinson, their great third baseman. Tributes were paid by teammates and opposing players. A large gift was made in his honor to the Johns Hopkins Hospital Children’s Center, one of his favorite charities. Brooks was saluted for his remarkable career; His brilliant play, fine sportsmanship, team leadership. When asked by a reporter how he would most like to be remembered, he replied, ‘Say, “He liked to play the game.’”’

That’s a great insight for all of life. The writer of Ecclesiastes was cynical about work until he got past the idea that you can’t take it with you. He finally concluded: “There is nothing better for a man than that he...find enjoyment in his work.”

A Japanese nobleman who came to America visited a Sunday school to study its function. The superintendent asked him to say a few words to those present. Now this visitor was a Confucianist, and he began by saying that the teachings of Confucius and Christ are just about the same. There are very few differences, he said, and therefore he regarded Christians as brothers. When he had finished, a distinguished merchant, a member of the Sunday school, rose to his feet. Of course, he recognized the moral teachings of Confucius, he said, but added the following: "There is, however, a basic and vital difference between Confucius and the Lord Jesus Christ. Confucius is dead and remains in his grave until Jesus Christ will raise him. But the tomb of Christ is empty. He lives and He will not see death again. He is in our midst this hour of our Sunday school."

In 1976 Lynette “Squeaky” Fromme exploded on to every front page in America. She had pushed her way through a crowd and had tried to kill the President of the United States. She was 17 years old. Investigators found her proud that she was a follower of Charles Manson. The world knows Manson as a crazed killer who worked through his small, dedicated band of fanatical “disciples.”

News magazines began to dig into the background of this tragic young woman. Their reports found that Squeaky had felt like a misfit in her town, and so she wandered across the country until she reached California. There Manson met her and promised to take care of her. She went with him and was willing to kill and die for him. Reporters wanted to know, “Why would you give your life to a man like Manson?” I read her explanation in a magazine, and I have never been able to forget it. Squeaky explained that she had made a choice early in her teenage years. Here it is: “Whoever loves me first can have my life.” Someone probably had loved Squeaky, but she was ready to give her life to whomever made her feel loved first.

French novelist and playwright Alexandre Dumas once had a heated quarrel with a rising young politician. The argument became so intense that a duel was inevitable. Since both men were superb shots they decided to draw lots, the loser agreeing to shoot himself. Dumas lost. Pistol in hand, he withdrew in silent dignity to another room, closing the door behind him. The rest of the company waited in gloomy suspense for the shot that would end his career. It rang out at last. His friends ran to the door, opened it, and found Dumas, smoking revolver in hand.

“Gentlemen, a most regrettable thing has happened,” he announced. “I missed.”

Biblically, it is the divine judgment upon sin and sinners. It does not merely mean that it is a casual response by God to ungodliness, but carries the meaning of hatred, revulsion, and indignation. God is by nature love (1 John 4:16), however, in His justice He must punish sin. The punishment is called the wrath of God. It will occur on the final Day of Judgment when those who are unsaved will incur the wrath of God. It is, though, presently being released upon the ungodly (Rom. 1:18-32) in the hardening of their hearts.

Wrath is described as God’s anger (Num. 32:10-13), as stored up (Rom. 2:5-8), and as great (Zech. 7:12). The believer’s deliverance from God’s wrath is through the atonement (Rom. 5:8-10). “For God has not destined us for wrath, but for obtaining salvation through our Lord Jesus Christ” (1 Thess. 5:9).

He never fails the soul that trusts in Him;

Tho’ disappointments come and hope burns dim,

He never fails.

Tho’ trials surge like stormy seas around,

Tho’ testings fierce like ambushed foes abound,

Yet this my soul, with millions more has found,

He never fails; He never fails.

He never fails the soul that trusts in Him;

Tho’ angry skies with thunder-clouds grow grim,

He never fails.

Tho’ icy blasts life’s fairest flow’rs lay low,

Tho’ earthly springs of joy all cease to flow,

Yet still ‘tis true, with millions more I know,

He never fails; He never fails.

He never fails the soul that trusts in Him;

Tho’ sorrow’s cup should overflow the brim,

He never fails.

Tho’ oft the pilgrim way seems rough and long,

I yet shall stand amid yon white-robed throng,

And there I’ll sing, with millions more, this song—

He never fails; He never fails.

The minister was retiring, and had delivered his last sermon from the pulpit where he had preached many years.

One of the faithful members stopped as she went out the door and asked, "Do you know what is the most important thing you said in all these years?"

"What was that?" the minister inquired, so he might learn of one way he had helped someone.

"You told us we cannot do anything to get God to stop loving us!" was the quiet reply.

The most important thing that you can learn in life is that God never stops loving you!

-Peter lied about being one of the disciples, but God loved him (Mat_26:70).

-The mothers and their small children were a problem for the disciples, but God loved them (Mat_19:14).

-The woman refused to give Jesus a drink of water from the well, but God loved her (Joh_4:9).

No matter what your life has been like, He still loves you! How much do you love God?

He prayeth best who loveth best

All things both great and small;

For the dear God who loveth us,

He made and loveth all.

- Samuel T. Coleridge

Pliny the Elder was a Roman writer who lived during the same time period as Jesus. He told a story of the setting of an obelisk, which when erect would stand 99 feet tall.

Twenty-thousand workers were chosen to pull on the ropes and activate the hoisting apparatus. There was great responsibility and risk in the operation. Just one error could cause the obelisk to fall, ruining years of work.

The King demanded one act which insured the complete attention and best direction of the engineer. He ordered the engineer's own son to be strapped to the apex of the obelisk, so that his heart as well as his head would be given to the task.

One day on Calvary, God's only begotten Son was raised before a sinful, jeering crowd, as the Father watched intently from heaven. The heart and mind of God were directed toward Jesus on the day our Lord was raised. There, above the heads of mankind, Jesus hung in death so that we might know eternal life. Remember Jesus' words:

"I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all men to Myself" (Joh 12:32). Jesus was raised for you and me!

It is possible to live under a delusion. You think you are kind, considerate and gracious when you are really not. You think you are building positive stuff into your children when in reality, if you could check with them twenty years later, you really didn’t. What if you could read your own obituary? How do people really see you? Here is the story of a man who did.

One morning in 1888 Alfred Noble, inventor of dynamite, awoke to read his own obituary. The obituary was printed as a result of a simple journalistic error. You see, it was Alfred’s brother that had died and the reporter carelessly reported the death of the wrong brother.

Any man would be disturbed under the circumstances, but to Alfred the shock was overwhelming because he saw himself as the world saw him. The “Dynamite King,” the great industrialist who had made an immense fortune from explosives. This, as far as the general public was concerned, was the entire purpose of Alfred’s life. None of his true intentions to break down the barriers that separated men and ideas for peace were recognized or given serious consideration. He was simply a merchant of death. And for that alone he would be remembered.

As he read the obituary with horror, he resolved to make clear to the world the true meaning and purpose of his life. This could be done through the final disposition of his fortune. His last will and testament would be the expression of his life’s ideals and ultimately would be why we would remember him. The result was the most valuable of prizes given to those who had done the most for the cause of world peace. It is called today, the “Nobel Peace Prize.”

Daniel said it long ago. It is God who "removes kings and raises up kings." (Dan 2:21). This was the way Daniel stated the truth that God is the One who controls and rules the world. Regarding Jesus, John said that He is now "King of kings and Lord of lords." Yet it still surprises us when faced with the reality of God's control. We don't like what we cannot easily explain. If we cannot say exactly how God does something, we are at a loss. It's time we accept the vantage point of many Bible writers when they could not explain, but they could declare the power of God.

November 9, 1989 stands as a testimony to the rule of God. That's the day the Berlin Wall fell. No one saw it coming; no political leader, no social scientist, no church leader saw what was happening. It shocked the world. No one can explain how it came about. Then nation after nation of Eastern Europe eliminated Communism as master. Is it answered prayer? Yes! Is it God's work? Yes! He now gives the church an open door. Do we believe He can get us through the door?

Dr. Clarence Bass, professor emeritus at Bethel Theological Seminary, early in his ministry preached in a church in Los Angeles. He thought he had done quite well as he stood at the door greeting people as they left the sanctuary. The remarks about his preaching were complimentary. That is, until a little old man commented, “You preached too long.” Dr. Bass wasn’t fazed by the remark, especially in light of the many positive comments. “You didn’t preach loud enough,” came another negative comment; it was from the same little old man. Dr. Bass thought it strange that the man had come through the line twice, but when the same man came through the line a third time and exclaimed, “You used too many big words” —this called for some explanation. Dr. Bass sought out a deacon who stood nearby and asked him, “Do you see that little old man over there? Who is he?” “Don’t pay any attention to him,” the deacon replied. “All he does is go around and repeat everything he hears.”

Robert Louis Stevenson tells of a storm that caught a vessel off a rocky coast and threatened to drive it and its passengers to destruction. In the midst of the terror, one daring man, contrary to orders, went to the deck, made a dangerous passage to the pilot house and saw the steerman, lashed fast at his post of holding the wheel unwaveringly, and inch by inch, turning the ship out, once more, to sea. The pilot saw the watcher and smiled.

Then, the daring passenger went below and gave out a note of cheer: “I have seen the face of the pilot, and he smiled. All is well.”

Christopher Columbus was obsessed with the idea that he could get to the East by traveling west, but by sailing west he never did reach India. He failed, but changed the course of history by discovering America, a great achievement. If you set out to do something great enough, what you do incidentally may be of more significance than that which is accomplished on purpose by someone else.

A minister was speaking to fishermen on an English seashore. He was trying to make it plain to the men what Christ's work on the cross really was.

Presently, he said, "Now will one of you men tell me, in your own words, what the Lord Jesus did there on the cross?"

An old seaman looked up and, with tears on his weather-beaten face, said: "He swapped with me."

How gloriously true! "His own self bare our sins in His own body on the tree."

He that is down needs fear no fall;

He that is low, no pride;

He that is humble, ever shall

Have God to be his guide.

I am content with what I have,

Little be it, or much;

And, Lord, contentment still I crave,

Because Thou savest such.

One of “Dear Abby’s” most unusual letters came from one wife who evidently didn’t understand her husband. The letter said, “My husband burns the hair out of his nose with a lighted match. And he thinks I’m crazy because I voted for Goldwater.”

He paid ,000 for a house to live in for a few years upon this earth.

He thought nothing of money.

He paid ,500 for a car.

He thought nothing of money.

He paid for a television set.

He thought nothing of money.

He paid for fishing gear.

He thought nothing of money.

He paid for a deer hunt.

He thought nothing of money.

He paid one evening watching the Dallas Cowboys play.

He thought nothing of money.

He paid per week for tobacco.

He thought nothing of money.

He gave whenever he went to church.

He thought nothing of money!

While serving with Operation Mobilization in India in 1967, I spent several months in a TB sanitarium with tuberculosis. After finally being admitted into the sanitarium, I tried to give tracts to the patients, doctors, and nurses, but no one would take them. You could tell that they weren’t really happy with me, a rich American (to them all Americans were rich), being in a government sanitarium. They didn’t know that serving with O.M., I was just as broke as they were!

I was quite discouraged with being sick, having everyone angry at me, not being able to witness because of the language barrier, and no one even bothering to take a tract or Gospel of John. The first few nights, I would wake around 2:00 a.m. coughing. One morning as I was going through my coughing spell, I noticed one of the older (and certainly sicker) patients across the aisle trying to get out of bed. He would sit up on the edge of the bed and try to stand, but because of weakness would fall back into bed. I really didn’t understand what was happening or what he was trying to do. He finally fell back into bed exhausted. I then heard him begin to cry softly.

The next morning I realized what the man was trying to do. He was simply trying to get up and walk to the bathroom! Because of his sickness and extreme weakness he was not able to do this, and being so ill he simply went to the toilet in the bed.

The next morning the stench in our ward was awful. Most of the other patients yelled insults at the man because of the smell. The nurses were extremely agitated and angry because they had to clean up the mess, and moved him roughly from side to side to take care of the problem. One of the nurses in her anger even slapped him. The man, terribly embarrassed, just curled up into a ball and wept.

The next night, also around 2:00 a.m., I again woke coughing. I noticed the man across the aisle sit up and again try to make his way to the washroom. However, still being so weak, he fell back whimpering as the night before. I’m just like most of you. I don’t like bad smells. I didn’t want to become involved. I was sick myself but before I realized what had happened, not knowing why I did it, I got out of my bed and went over to the old man. He was still crying and did not hear me approach. As I reached down and touched his shoulder, his eyes opened with a fearful questioning look. I simply smiled, put my arm under his head and neck, and my other arm under his legs, and picked him up.

Even though I was sick and weak, I was certainly stronger than he was. He was extremely light because of his old age and advanced TB. I walked down the hall to the washroom, which was really just a smelly filthy small room with a hole in the floor. I stood behind him with my arms under his arms, holding him so he could take care of himself. After he finished, I picked him up and carried him back to his bed. As I began to lay him down, with my head next to his, he kissed me on the cheek, smiled, and said something which I suppose was “thank you.”

It was amazing what happened the next morning. One of the other patients whom I didn’t know woke me around 4:00 with a steaming cup of delicious Indian tea. He then made motions with his hands (he knew no English) indicating he wanted a tract. As the sun came up, some of the other patients began to approach, motioning that they would also like one of the booklets I had tried to distribute before. Throughout the day people came to me, asking for the Gospel booklets. This included the nurses, the hospital interns, the doctors, until everybody in the hospital had a tract, booklet, or Gospel of John. Over the next few days, several indicated they trusted Christ as Savior as a result of reading the Good News!

What did it take to reach these people with the Good News of salvation in Christ? It certainly wasn’t health. It definitely wasn’t the ability to speak or to give an intellectually moving discourse. Health, and the ability to communicate sensitively to other cultures and peoples are all very important, but what did God use to open their hearts to the Gospel? I simply took an old man to the bathroom. Anyone could have done that!

When my daughter, Danae, was a teenager, she came home one day and said, “Hey, Dad! There’s a great new game out. I think you’ll like it. It’s called Monopoly.” I just smiled.

We gathered the family together and set up the board. It didn’t take the kids long to figure out that old Dad had played this game before. I soon owned all the best properties, including Boardwalk and Park Place. I even had Baltic and Mediterranean. My kids were squirming, and I was loving every minute of it.

About midnight I foreclosed on the last property and did a little victory dance. My family wasn’t impressed. They went to bed and made me put the game away. As I began putting all of my money back in the box, a very empty feeling came over me. Everything that I had accumulated was gone. The excitement over riches was just an illusion. And then it occurred to me, Hey, this isn’t just the game of Monopoly that has caught my attention; this is the game of life. You sweat and strain to get ahead, but then one day, after a little chest pain or a wrong change of lanes on the freeway, the game ends. It all goes back in the box. You leave this world just as naked as the day you came into it.

I once saw a bumper sticker that proclaimed, He who dies with the most toys wins. That’s wrong. It should say, He who dies with the most toys dies anyway.

Two 6 year olds struggled with the problem of the existence of the devil. One boy said, “Oh, there isn’t any devil.” The other, rather upset, said, “What do you mean, there isn’t any devil? It talks about him all the way through the Bible!” the first replied, “Oh that’s not true, you know. It’s just like Santa Claus, the devil turns out to be your dad.”

There’s an Ozark story about a hound sitting in a country store and howling as hounds do. In comes a stranger who says to the storekeeper, “What’s the matter with the dog?” “He’s sitting on a cocklebur.” “Why doesn’t he get off?” “He’d rather holler.”

Two men were discussing the character of a third. "Let me describe him this way," said the first. "He's the kind of guy who follows you into a revolving door and comes out ahead of you."

Sounds crazy, but at least one educator is singing the praise of a revolutionary new teaching process. It’s simple: posters on bathroom walls. An instructor at the State University of New York conducted an educational experiment by hanging cardiopulmonary resuscitation (CPR) posters in “strategic places” in dormitory bathrooms.

His findings? Those who read the posters averaged nearly 25 percent higher scores on CPR tests than the control group. Also, students in the bathroom poster group who had never received CPR training scored as well on a techniques test as those who had received classroom teaching. The instructor next plans to install Heimlich choking maneuver posters in selected stalls. All of which lends new meaning to the term “head knowledge.”

Alexander the Great was regent of Macedonia at the age of 16, a victorious general at 18, king at 20-and then he died a drunkard before he was 33, having conquered the then-known world. His father was Philip of Macedon, also a military genius, who invented the famous "Greek phalanx."

While Alexander was still in his early teens, Philonicus the Thessalonian offered to sell Alexander's father, Philip, his horse, Bucephalus, a trained, but vicious horse. Philip took his son along to see the horse go through his paces, but the stallion proved so unmanageable that none of the men could even mount him. Alexander noticed that he seemed to be afraid of his own shadow, so he quieted the horse by turning his head toward the sun! Then Alexander mounted the horse, and let him run freely for a while. Soon, by keeping him headed toward the sun, he got him under control.

Millions today are "afraid of their own shadow," the "shadow" of their evil deeds, the haunting "shadow" of their own guilty conscience and the "shadow" of hundreds of fears and failures. But let some faithful Christian point them to Christ, and their shadows immediately fall behind them, for Christ is "the Light of the world" (Joh 8:12), and all who follow HIM "shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life." The closer one walks to Him the more light he has; and the farther one gets from Christ, the deeper are the shadows. And he who is so foolish as to walk away from Christ, in unbelief, walks ever deeper into the shadows that will eventually plunge him into the eternal darkness.

Remember putting your face above a headless frame painted to represent a muscle man, a clown, or even a bathing beauty? Many of us have had our pictures taken this way, and the photos are humorous because the head doesn’t fit the body. If we could picture Christ as the head of our local body of believers, would the world laugh at the misfit? Or would they stand in awe of a human body so closely related to a divine head?

Dan Bernard

In my search for an assistant, I had narrowed the applicants to two women. One had more experience; the other was more personable. I headed for my boss’s office, still undecided. Realizing I needed help, he produced a quarter, saying, “Heads, It’s experience. Tails, it’s personality.” He flipped the quarter into the air and then asked, “Quick! What are you thinking?” “Tails,” I blurted. It was true. I had been wishing it would come up tails. The quarter landed in his palm and without looking at it, he said, “Call Personnel with your executive decision.”

Some years ago a woman went to consult a famous New York physician about her health. She was a woman of nervous temperament. She gave the doctor a list of her symptoms and answered his questions, only to be astonished at his brief prescription at the end: "Go home, and read your Bible an hour every day; then come back to me a month from today." And he bowed her out before she could protest. At first she was inclined to be angry; then she reflected that the prescription was not an expensive one. She went home determined to read conscientiously her neglected Bible. In a month she went back to the doctor's office a different person, and asked him how he knew that was just what she needed. For answer the physician turned to his desk. There, worn and marked, lay an open Bible. "Madam," he said, "If I were to omit my daily reading of this Book I would lose my greatest source of strength and skill."

In the book, An Invitation to Healing, author Lynda Elliott writes, �When I was in my twenties I was badly hurt by a neighbor. For months, I replayed the hurtful scene in my mind, talking about it often with a friend. As I expressed my feelings over and over, my pain became deeper and more invasive. It was becoming a part of me.�

One day as Lynda relived the scene again, her friend asked, �Do you know we become like the people we think about most?� Lynda says the Lord used that question as a wake up call. She says, �I had a choice to make. If I choose to behold Jesus, to focus on him, I could be transformed into his image. Likewise, if I continued to behold the image of my neighbor, I could be transformed into her image. In fact, that was already happening (An Invitation to Healing, Chosen Books, 2001).

Once I tried to get a friend, who was also a theological professor, to investigate a miracle that had taken place through the ministry of another seminary professor. The seminary professor who had been used to do the miracle was a conservative evangelical, who is held in high esteem across the body of Christ, and who had begun to believe in the miraculous gifts.

A healing had occurred in the eyes and ears of a little boy. I called the boy’s father (they lived in another state) in order to verify the miracle. The father said it was true and that he had medical documentation.

When I told the story to my friend, the cessationist professor, I urged him to call and investigate. He did not even want the phone number. When I questioned his reluctance to investigate, he told me that he did not doubt that the miracle had occurred, but he doubted that God had done it! So there was no need for him to investigate.

The facts of the case were:

1. A seminary professor, who held historic orthodox theology,

2. asked God in Jesus’ name

3. to do a miracle on a little child

4. from a Christian family,

5. and the miracle was performed immediately.

Even with these facts, which my friend would not dispute, it was easier for him to believe that Satan had done the miracle rather than Jesus! The secessionist mindset often precludes any sincere investigation.

Labour mightily for a healing spirit. Away with all discriminating names whatever that may hinder the applying of balm to heal your wounds ... Discord and division become no Christian. For wolves to worry the lambs is no wonder, but for one lamb to worry another, this is unnatural and monstrous.

The focus of health in the soul is humility, while the root of inward corruption is pride. In the spiritual life, nothing stands still. If we are not constantly growing downward into humility, we shall be steadily swelling up and running to seed under the influence of pride.

A young soldier of evident breeding and culture had one peculiarity. He would never drink alcoholic beverages with the others. One day the major asked him to take a message to the express agent in town. "Where shall I find him, sir?" he asked. "Just go into Casey's saloon and sit down. He'll show up in the course of the afternoon." The soldier drew back and said, "Beg pardon, sir, but can't I meet him some place else?" "Why, what's the matter with Casey's? Are you afraid to go there?" "Yes, sir, because drink was what made me enlist and leave my family in the first place. I was drunk and didn't know what I was doing." "You may go," said the major curtly. "I'll find a more accommodating and less cowardly man."

From then on this soldier carried a reputation for cowardice because he was realistic enough to avoid danger he knew he was too weak to face. However, the opinion of the battery changed one day when he was one of the seven chosen to fire a cannon salute to a visiting general. One bag of powder failed to discharge, and the sergeant ordered it pulled out. As it fell to the ground, the men were horrified to see that one corner of it ignited. For a breathless moment no one moved. Then this soldier flung himself upon it and with his bare hands smothered the deadly spark. From then on he was the hero of the company. You may depend upon it; the man who is afraid of doing wrong will be brave enough when the occasion calls for it.

In my first film series, “Focus on the Family,” I shared a story about a 5-year-old African-American boy who will never be forgotten by those who knew him. A nurse with whom I worked, Gracie Schaeffler, took care of this lad during the latter days of his life. He was dying of lung cancer, which is a terrifying disease in its final stages. The lungs fill with fluid, and the patient is unable to breathe. It is terribly claustrophobic, especially for a small child.

This little boy had a Christian mother who loved him and stayed by his side through the long ordeal. She cradled him on her lap and talked softly about the Lord. Instinctively, the woman was preparing her son for the final hours to come. Gracie told me that she entered his room one day as death approached, and she heard this lad talking about hearing bells. “The bells are ringing, Mommie,” he said. “I can hear them.”

Gracie thought he was hallucinating because he was already slipping away. She left and returned a few minutes later and again heard him talking about hearing bells ringing. The nurse said to his mother, ‘I’m sure you know your baby is hearing things that aren’t there. He is hallucinating because of the sickness.”

The mother pulled her son closer to her chest, smiled and said, “No, Miss Schaeffler. He is not hallucinating. I told him when he was frightened—when he couldn’t breathe—if he would listen carefully, he could hear the bells of heaven ringing for him. That is what he’s been talking about all day.”

That precious child died on his mother’s lap later that evening, and he was still talking about the bells of heaven when the angels came to take him. What a brave little trooper he was!

An auditor is one who sits down with the other students, and has the same advantages of learning, but does not have the same responsibilities. When examinations are given, he does not have to take them. He is just an auditor. He may have listened very carefully and have greatly benefited from what he has heard, but he does not have to be checked by his professor. He doesn't have to hand in any term papers or theses. He feels very free when he sees the other duly registered students studying hard while he can take it easy. But the day of graduation comes, and you know what happens then. The one who sat for the examination and had responsibilities as well as duties receives a diploma, a degree, and can be a practicing lawyer, teacher, doctor, businessman, etc. The auditor, however, can have nothing at all, except possibly a certificate showing that he had been physically present in class while the professor gave the lectures on a certain subject.

Two old-timers were having a rather heated discussion in an old folks home. One, however, seemed to be doing most of the talking. This went on for several minutes while the second man waited patiently for an opening to present his side of the argument.

Just when it appeared the first man was about to run down and the second could get in a few words, the one who was talking summed up his argument vehemently, then promptly turned off his hearing aid.

The body of David Livingstone was buried in England where he was born, but his heart was buried in the Africa he loved. At the foot of a tall tree in a small African village the natives dug a hole and placed in it the heart of this man who they loved and respected.

If your heart were to be buried in the place you loved most during life, where would it be? In your pocketbook? In an appropriate space down at the office? Where is your heart?

Heart is used in Scripture as the most comprehensive term for the authentic person. It is the part of our being where we desire, deliberate, and decide. It has been described as “the place of conscious and decisive spiritual activity,” “the comprehensive term for a person as a whole; his feelings, desires, passions, thought, understanding and will,” and “the center of a person. The place to which God turns.”

In the book, The Heart Of Worship, Louie Giglio writes, �Recently, I was stunned by a photograph in USA Today of what astronomers say is the perfect spiral galaxy. Taken with the help of a new telescope on the Big Island of Hawaii, the photo shows a breathtaking shot of a galaxy named NGC 628 -- slightly smaller than our Milky Way (it contains only a paltry 100 billion stars) and, get this, 30 million light-years away. Funny, the whole point of the accompanying article was our great achievement of taking such a great photograph with our two-week old telescope. Aren�t we great?� (The Heart of Worship, 2003, Regal Books, Pg 20-21).

Medical authorities determine a person to be “alive” if there is either a detectable heartbeat or brain-wave activity. With that in mind, it is eye-opening for some to realize that unborn children have detectable heartbeats at eighteen days (two and one-half weeks) after conception and detectable brain-wave activity forty days (a little over five and one-half weeks) after conception. What is so shocking is that essentially 100 percent of all abortions occur after the seventh week of pregnancy.

The Wild West of yesteryear was full of illusions on distant horizons. One of George Custer's young officers was sure he saw a party of Indians a mile away. As the soldier charged, the Indians looked plainer each moment. But arriving at the point, there were no Indians at all-only some buffalo carcasses. Other travelers saw ships skimming across the desert sand in full sail, railroad tracks elevated on pilings, or water birds with brilliant plumage. All of these illusions occur when light rays pass through the atmosphere bent and distorted.

But no optical illusions in nature exceed the illusions that can be left by our own hearts. By diagnosis, the human spiritual heart is "beyond cure." Unaided by God, the response of each of us toward knowing his or her heart must be despair: "Who can know it?" (Jer 17:9). No one can fathom the secrets or pierce the darkness of his or her own heart. This is especially true at the point of the question about whom we trust-here again, our hearts can fool.

But there is hope. It rests in this: God knows your heart (Jer 17:10). He sifts, searches, explores, and probes the human heart. He tests and examines human emotions. This is our hope. When we get to know God, we get to know our own heart. You do not know your heart by looking into it yourself. You know your heart by getting to know God through our Lord Jesus Christ.

In his classic devotional book titled The Saint’s Everlasting Rest, English Puritan pastor and author Richard Baxter (1615-1691) wrote:

“Why are not our hearts continually set on heaven? Why dwell we not there in constant comtemplation?…Bend thy soul to study eternity, busy thyself about the life to come, habituate thyself to such contemplations, and let not those thoughts be seldom and cursory, but bathe thyself in heaven’s delights.”

A philosopher was asked by a friend to show him the splendid garden of which he was always boasting. He led him to a bare rocky space behind his house. "Where is your garden?" the friend asked. "Look up," said the philosopher; "heaven is a part of my garden." Every good gift in the garden really comes from above; should God command the clouds to send no rain, the earth would soon be like iron. Heaven shields, broods over, and enriches every fruitful plot of ground. Turn, then, your whole being fully toward the sunshine of God's grace, and pray that the garden of your soul may always be as ready to receive heavenly blessing as is the garden around your dwelling. When, by God's enablement, you become a planter, remember that the seed is God-made, and when you become a waterer, remember that the water is also God-made.

It was Christmas time, and the bell tinkled. Many people had passed by the Salvation Army kettle on the busy corner.

Then a small boy-six perhaps-looked into the kettle and asked, "Mister, what is that money for?" The tall man ringing the bell leaned over and quietly replied, "It is for girls and boys like you. But they are children that need food and clothing and toys for Christmas. The money will buy those things. Do you see?"

The tiny lad with face aglow plunged his hand deep into his pocket. Then, reenacting the Miracle of Christmas, he placed his gift-a penny-in the kettle with the rest.

"Only a penny?" you say. But it was a gift straight from a little boy's heart. If it did not go unnoticed on the busy street corner, surely it did not go unnoticed in heaven.

Shortly after the turn of the century, Japan invaded, conquered, and occupied Korea. Of all of their oppressors, Japan was the most ruthless. They overwhelmed the Koreans with a brutality that would sicken the strongest of stomachs. Their crimes against women and children were inhuman. Many Koreans live today with the physical and emotional scars from the Japanese occupation.

One group singled out for concentrated oppression was the Christians. When the Japanese army overpowered Korea one of the first things they did was board up the evangelical churches and eject most foreign missionaries. It has always fascinated me how people fail to learn from history. Conquering nations have consistently felt that shutting up churches would shut down Christianity. It didn’t work in Rome when the church was established, and it hasn’t worked since. Yet somehow the Japanese thought they would have a different success record.

The conquerors started by refusing to allow churches to meet and jailing many of the key Christian spokesmen. The oppression intensified as the Japanese military increased its profile in the South Pacific. The “Land of the Rising Sun” spread its influence through a reign of savage brutality. Anguish filled the hearts of the oppressed and kindled hatred deep in their souls.

One pastor persistently entreated his local Japanese police chief for permission to meet for services. His nagging was finally accommodated, and the police chief offered to unlock his church…for one meeting.

It didn’t take long for word to travel. Committed Christians starving for an opportunity for unhindered worship quickly made their plans. Long before dawn on that promised Sunday, Korean families throughout a wide area made their way to the church. They passed the staring eyes of their Japanese captors, but nothing was going to steal their joy. As they closed the doors behind them they shut out the cares of oppression and shut in a burning spirit anxious to glorify their Lord.

The Korean church has always had a reputation as a singing church. Their voices of praise could not be concealed inside the little wooden frame sanctuary. Song after song rang through the open windows into the bright Sunday morning. For a handful of peasants listening nearby, the last two songs this congregation sang seemed suspended in time.

It was during a stanza of “Nearer My God to Thee” that the Japanese police chief waiting outside gave the orders. The people toward the back of the church could hear them when they barricaded the doors, but no one realized that they had doused the church with kerosene until they smelled the smoke. The dried wooden skin of the small church quickly ignited. Fumes filled the structure as tongues of flame began to lick the baseboard on the interior walls. There was an immediate rush for the windows. But momentary hope recoiled in horror as the men climbing out the windows came crashing back in—their bodies ripped by a hail of bullets.

The good pastor knew it was the end. With a calm that comes from confidence, he led his congregation in a hymn whose words served as a fitting farewell to earth and a loving salutation to heaven. The first few words were all the prompting the terrified worshipers needed. With smoke burning their eyes, they instantly joined as one to sing their hope and leave their legacy.

Their song became a serenade to the horrified and helpless witnesses outside. Their words also tugged at the hearts of the cruel men who oversaw this flaming execution of the innocent.

Alas! and did my Savior bleed?

did my Sovereign die?

Would he devote that sacred head

for such a worm as I?

Just before the roof collapsed they sang the last verse, their words an eternal testimony to their faith.

But drops of grief can ne’er repay

the debt of love I owe:

Here, Lord, I give myself away

‘Tis all that I can do!

At the cross, at the cross

Where I first saw the light,

And the burden of my heart rolled away —

It was there by faith I received my sight,

And now I am happy all the day.

The strains of music and wails of children were lost in a roar of flames. The elements that once formed bone and flesh mixed with the smoke and dissipated into the air. The bodies that once housed life fused with the charred rubble of a building that once housed a church. But the souls who left singing finished their chorus in the throne room of God.

Clearing the incinerated remains was the easy part. Erasing the hate would take decades. For some of the relatives of the victims, this carnage was too much. Evil had stooped to a new low, and there seemed to be no way to curb their bitter loathing of the Japanese.

In the decades that followed, that bitterness was passed on to a new generation. The Japanese, although conquered, remained a hated enemy. The monument the Koreans built at the location of the fire not only memorialized the people who died, but stood as a mute reminder of their pain.

Inner rest? How could rest coexist with a bitterness deep as marrow in the bones?

Suffering, of course, is a part of life. People hurt people. Almost all of us have experienced it at some time.

Maybe you felt it when you came home to find that your spouse had abandoned you, or when your integrity was destroyed by a series of well-timed lies, or when your company was bled dry by a partner. It kills you inside. Bitterness clamps down on your soul like iron shackles.

The Korean people who found it too hard to forgive could not enjoy the “peace that passes all understanding.” Hatred choked their joy.

It wasn’t until 1972 that any hope came.

A group of Japanese pastors traveling through Korea came upon the memorial. When they read the details of the tragedy and the names of the spiritual brothers and sisters who had perished, they were overcome with shame. Their country had sinned, and even though none of them were personally involved (some were not even born at the time of the tragedy), they still felt a national guilt that could not be excused.

They returned to Japan committed to right a wrong. There was an immediate outpouring of love from their fellow believers. They raised ten million yen ($25,000). The money was transferred through proper channels and a beautiful white church building was erected on the sight of the tragedy.

When the dedication service for the new building was held, a delegation from Japan joined the relatives and special guests. Although their generosity was acknowledged and their attempts at making peace appreciated, the memories were still there.

Hatred preserves pain. It keeps the wounds open and the hurts fresh. The Koreans’ bitterness had festered for decades. Christian brothers or not, these Japanese were descendants of a ruthless enemy.

The speeches were made, the details of the tragedy recalled, and the names of the dead honored. It was time to bring the service to a close. Someone in charge of the agenda thought it would be appropriate to conclude with the same two songs that were sung the day the church was burned.

The song leader began the words to “Nearer My God to Thee.” But something remarkable happened as the voices mingled on the familiar melody. As the memories of the past mixed with the truth of the song, resistance started to melt. The inspiration that gave hope to a doomed collection of churchgoers in a past generation gave hope once more.

The song leader closed the service with the hymn “At the Cross.”

The normally stoic Japanese could not contain themselves. The tears that began to fill their eyes during the song suddenly gushed from deep inside. They turned to their Korean spiritual relatives and begged them to forgive. The guarded, callused hearts of the Koreans were not quick to surrender. But the love of the Japanese believers—unintimidated by decades of hatred—tore at the Koreans’ emotions.

At the cross,

At the cross,

Where I first saw the light,

And the burden of my heart rolled away…

One Korean turned toward a Japanese brother. Then another. And then the floodgates holding back a wave of emotion let go. The Koreans met their new Japanese friends in the middle. They clung to each other and wept. Japanese tears of repentance and Korean tears of forgiveness intermingled to bathe the site of an old nightmare.

Heaven had sent the gift of reconciliation to a little white church in Korea.

I was walking down life’s pathway

Not so very long ago

When I looked up and saw a sign

Heaven’s Grocery Store.

I got a little closer and the door swung open wide.

The next thing I knew I was standing there inside.

I saw a host of angels. They were standing everywhere.

One handed me a basket and said,

“My child, now shop with care.”

Everything a Christian needed

Was in that Grocery Store

And what you couldn’t carry out

You could come back next day for more.

Well, first I got some patience,

Love is in the same row.

Further down was understanding.

You need those everywhere you go.

I got a box or two of wisdom

And a bar or two of faith

You couldn’t miss the Holy Ghost

He was all over the place.

I didn’t forget salvation

For salvation—that was free.

I wanted to get enough of that

To save both you and me.

There was meekness, longsuffering and gentleness

I saw these at a glance.

I knew I’d better get some.

I would never have a better chance.

I stopped to get some courage

To help me run life’s race.

Then my basket was getting full

And I remembered I needed grace.

Then I started for the counter to pay my grocery bill

I thought I had most everything to do the Father’s will.

And I saw prayer, I just had to put that in.

I knew when I stepped outside the door, I’d run right into sin.

Joy and peace were plentiful

And they were on the same shelf

Songs and praises were hanging everywhere

So I just helped myself.

Then I said to the angel

How much do I really owe

He smiled and said just take them

Everywhere you go.

But I said no—I want to pay.

How much do I really owe?

He said Jesus paid it all on Calvary

A long time ago.

We are afraid that Heaven is a bribe, and that if we make it our goal we shall no longer be disinterested. It is not so. Heaven offers nothing that a mercenary soul can desire. It is safe to tell the pure in heart that they shall see God, for only the pure in heart want to.

As I was walking down life's highway a long time ago,

One day I saw a sign that read "Heaven's Grocery Store."

As I got a little closer, the door came open wide

And when I later found myself, I was standing there inside.

I saw a host of angels that were standing everywhere.

One handed me a basket and said, "My child, now shop with care."

Everything a Christian needed was in that grocery store;

And all you couldn't carry, you could come back next day for more.

First I got some PATIENCE, and LOVE was in the same row.

Further down was UNDERSTANDING, which you need wherever you go.

I got a box or two of WISDOM, and a bag or two of FAITH.

I just could not miss the HOLY GHOST 'cause it was all over the place.

I stopped to get some STRENGTH and COURAGE to help me run this race.

By then my basket was getting full, but I remembered I needed GRACE.

I did not forget SALVATION, for salvation there was free,

So I tried to get enough of that to save both you and me.

Then I started up to the counter, to pay my grocery bill.

For now I thought I had everything to do my Master's will.

At the end of the aisle I saw PRAYER and I just had to put that in,

For I knew when I stepped outside, I would run right into sin.

PEACE and JOY were plentiful. They were on the very last shelf.

SONGS and PRAISES were stacked nearby, so I just helped myself.

Then I said to the angel, "Now, how much do I owe?"

He just smiled and said to me, "Just take them wherever you go."

Again, I smiled at him and said, "How much do I really owe?"

He smiled again and said,

"My child, Jesus paid your bill a long time ago."

The light is willing enough to enter the window of the soul when it is allowed admission. No man passes from his natural darkness into heavenly light without being aware that a great change has taken place. When the light first comes in, it reveals much that before was unperceived. If a room has been shut for a long time and kept in darkness, the light has a startling effect. With the light of a candle we cannot detect the dust, but if we open the shutters and draw the curtains, the light makes the mold and the dust very apparent. The first effect of the light of God in the soul is painfully unpleasant. It makes us loathe ourselves and wish we had never been born. Things grow worse and worse to our consciences as the light shines more and more. We would have every idol discovered and broken, and every dark chamber exposed to the sun. We must not keep the light out of any part of our nature. The light should be permitted to continue to enter our souls, and as it does, it gradually illuminates. Our will by nature prefers the darkness. We claim the right to act as we please. The light must continue to enter if our will is going to consent to change.

Former heavy-weight boxer James (Quick) Tillis is a cowboy from Oklahoma who fought out of Chicago in the early 1980s. He still remembers his first day in the Windy City after his arrival from Tulsa. “I got off the bus with two cardboard suitcases under by arms in downtown Chicago and stopped in front of the Sears Tower. I put my suitcases down, and I looked up at the Tower and I said to myself, ‘I’m going to conquer Chicago.’ “When I looked down, the suitcases were gone.”

Buffalo Bills’ offensive lineman Glenn Parker speculated as to why NFL linemen are generally cheerful: “There are not a lot of well-paying jobs for 300-pounders. We found one, and we’re happy about it.”

Hebrews 12:1 tells us to “run with endurance” the race set before us. George Matheson wrote, “We commonly associate patience with lying down. We think of it as the angel that guards the couch of the invalid. Yet there is a patience that I believe to be harder—the patience that can run. To lie down in the time of grief, to be quiet under the stroke of adverse fortune, implies a great strength; but I know of something that implies a strength greater still: it is the power to work under stress; to have a great weight at your heart and still run; to have a deep anguish in your spirit and still perform the daily tasks. It is a Christlike thing! The hardest thing is that most of us are called to exercise our patience, not in the sickbed but in the street.”

To wait is hard, to do it with “good courage” is harder!

One winter a resort in Breckenridge, Colorado, posted signs instructing skiers to keep off a certain slope. The signs, large and distinct, said, “DANGER! OUT OF BOUNDS!”

In spite of the warnings, however, several skiers went into the area. The result? A half-mile-wide avalanche buried four of the trespassers beneath tons of snow and rock. This tragedy never would have happened if the signs had been heeded.

When I was in school and I learned how to spell,

They taught me a rule I remember quite well;

Put “i” before “e”—so I learned when a brat

Except after “c,” it’s as simple as that.

When memory gets mushy, I think in this vien,

For spelling’s a study where sceince should riegn.

And when deficeint have siezures of doubt

This rule is sufficeint to straighten them out.

So why need one labor to reach the hieght

Or inviegle a nieghbor to set him a right,

When this anceint rhyme will his critics inviegh

And never a crime on his consceince need wiegh.

But while I’m proficeint

At spelling, I’ve feared

Though the rule is efficeint

The words so look wierd.

The story is told of D. Bonhoeffer, who while imprisoned in a concentration camp, saluted a German officer and said “Heil Hitler” as he walked by. Bonhoeffer noticed that another prisoner next to him was refusing to salute, and whispered to him, “Salute, you fool. This isn’t worth dying for.” We need to choose our battles carefully.

A minister traveling on a train in Europe was the sole occupant of a compartment, save for a young man reading a newspaper. The youth was also a Christian, but so weak was his faith, and so many were his temptations, that he told the minister he did not think he would be able to stand life a week longer. The minister took from his pocket a Bible and a penknife and said, "See, I will make this penknife stand up on the cover of this Bible, in spite of the rocking of the train." The young man, thinking that this was some conjuring trick, watched the proceeding with interest, saying, "I am afraid that it will not be very easy to do that , sir." "But," said the minister, "I am doing it." "Oh, but you are holding it," retorted his fellow passenger. "Why of course. Did you ever hear of a penknife standing up on its end without being held up?" "I see," was the young man's comment. "I see you mean to teach me that I cannot stand unless Christ holds me. Thank you for reminding me of that."

Helen Hayes once said that her mother drew a distinction between achievement and success. Her mother advised her that

“… achievement is the knowledge that you have studied and worked hard and done the best that is in you. Success is being praised by others, and that’s nice too, but not as important or satisfying. Always aim for achievement and forget about success.”

When a Brooklyn traffic officer handed a young woman a ticket, she told him, according to the press report, "You can go to hell." When she appeared in court, the magistrate dismissed the officer's complaint about her language, saying, "It wasn't a command or a wish, but a real statement of fact, for going to hell is a possibility." How terrible it is, however, that multitudes today have forgotten this possibility. A humorous magazine, poking fun at "advanced theology," remarked, "Nowadays most of the churches and preachers are so advanced that it takes considerable ingenuity to get into hell."

Non-Christians often ask the Christian, “But how can the God of love allow any of his creatures to suffer unending misery?” The question is, how can he not? The fact that God is love makes hell necessary.

“Hell,” as E. L. Mascall once said, “is not compatible with God’s love; it is a direct consequence of it.” That was his way of stressing the fact that the very God who loves us is the one who respects our decisions. He loves us, but he does not force his love on us. To force love is to commit assault. He allows us to decide. He loves us, he encourages our response, he woos us, he pursues us, he urges us, but he does not force us, because he respects us.

Bottomless pit—no physical, solid surroundings, total isolation.

Utter darkness—a person is isolated, restricted, totally and forever to himself/herself.