Pastoral Resources

Life is a matter of building. Each of us has the opportunity to build something—a secure family, a good reputation, a career, a relationship to God. But some of those things can disappear almost overnight due to financial losses, natural disasters and other unforeseen difficulties.

What are we to do? Daniel Webster offered excellent advice, saying, “If we work on marble it will perish. If we work on brass, time will efface it. If we rear temples, they will crumble to dust. But if we work on men’s immortal minds, if we imbue them with high principles, with just fear of God and love of their fellow-men, we engrave on those tablets something which time cannot efface, and which will brighten and brighten to all eternity.

I read that when a terrible plague came to ancient Athens, people there committed every horrible crime and engaged in every lustful pleasure they could because they believed that life was short and they would never have to pay any penalty.

Tomb, thou shalt not hold Him longer;

Death is strong, but Life is stronger;

Stronger than the dark, the light;

Stronger than the wrong, the right;

Faith and Hope triumphant say,

Christ will rise on Easter Day.

- Phillips Brooks

At some point, every human being confronts the mysteries that caused Job to tremble in terror. Is God unfair? One option seemed obvious to Job’s wife: “Curse God and die!” she advised. Why hold on to a sentimental belief in a loving God when so much in life conspires against it? And in this Job-like century, more people than ever before have come to agree with her.

Some Jewish writers, such as Jerzy Kosinski and Elie Wiesel, began with a strong faith in God, but saw it vaporize in the gas furnaces of the Holocaust. Face to face with history’s grossest unfairness, they concluded that God must not exist. (Still, the human instinct asserts itself. Kosinski and Wiesel overlook the underlying issue of where our primal sense of fairness comes from. Why ought we even expect the world to be fair?) Others, equally mindful of the world’s unfairness, cannot bring themselves to deny God’s existence. Instead, they propose another possibility: perhaps God agrees that life is unfair, but cannot do anything about it.

Rabbi Harold Kushner took this approach in his best-selling book When Bad Things Happen to Good People. After watching his son die of the disease progeria, Kushner concluded that “even God has a hard time keeping chaos in check,” and that God is “a God of justice and not of power.”

According to Rabbi Kushner, God is as frustrated, even outraged, by the unfairness on this planet as anyone else, but he lacks the power to change it. Millions of readers found comfort in Kushner’s portrayal of a God who seemed compassionate, albeit weak. I wonder, however, what those people make of the last five chapters of Job, which contain God’s “self-defense.” No other part of the Bible conveys God’s power so impressively. If God is less-than-powerful, why did he choose the worst possible situation, when his power was most called into question, to insist on his omnipotence? (Elie Wiesel said of the God described by Kushner, “If that’s who God is, why doesn’t he resign and let someone more competent take his place?”)

A third group of people evade the problem (of God’s unfairness) by looking to the future, when an exacting justice will work itself out in the universe. Unfairness is a temporary condition, they say. The Hindu doctrine of Karma, which applies a mathematical precision to this belief, calculates it may take a soul 6,800,000 incarnations to realize perfect justice. At the end of all those incarnations, a person will have experienced exactly the amount of pain and pleasure that he or she deserves.

A fourth approach is to flatly deny the problem and insist the world is fair. Echoing Job’s friends, these people insist the world does run according to fixed, regular laws: good people will prosper and evil ones will fail. I encountered this point of view at the faith-healing church in Indiana, and I hear it virtually every time I watch religious television, where some evangelist promises perfect health and financial prosperity to anyone who asks for

it in true faith.

And finally, there is one more way to explain the world’s unfairness. After hearing all the alternatives, Job was driven to the conclusion I have suggested as the one-sentence summary of the entire book: Life is unfair!

During World War II, “Eddie” Rickenbacker, American’s most famous army aviator in W.W. I, was appointed special consultant to Secretary of War, Henry L. Stimson. It was Rickenbacker’s task to inspect the various theaters of war.

During one tour in 1942, Rickenbacker and seven companions made a forced landing in the Pacific Ocean. There they experienced 24 terrifying days drifting in a lifeboat until they were rescued by a navy plane. After his recovery from the ordeal, Rickenbacker said: “Let the moment come when nothing is left but life, and you will find that you do not hesitate over the fate of material possessions.”

Rickenbacker understood that at such a time one is concerned about the fate of something more precious than material goods—life itself.

Harry Ironside stated that salvation was like Noah inviting a pagan in his day to place his trust in God’s Word and come in to the ark. Some view salvation like Noah offering to put a peg on the outside of the ark. “If you just hang on through the storm, you’ll be saved.” Salvation is not dependent on our holding on to God, but on our being securely held by and in Christ.

By the age of 5, Beethoven was playing the violin under the tutelage of his father—also an accomplished musician. By the time he was 13, Beethoven was a concert organist. In his 20s he was already studying under the very watchful eyes of Haydn and Mozart. In fact, Mozart spoke prophetic words when he declared that Beethoven would give the world something worth listening to by the time his life ended.

As Beethoven began to develop his skills, he became a prolific composer. During his lifetime, he wrote nine majestic symphonies and five concertos for piano, not to mention numerous pieces of chamber music. Ludwig van Beethoven also wrote sonatas and pieces for violin and piano. He has thrilled us with the masterful works of unique harmony that broke with the traditions of his times. The man was a genius. Beethoven was not, however, a stranger to difficulties. During his twenties, he began to lose his hearing. His fingers “became thick,” he said on one occasion. He couldn’t feel the music as he once had. His hearing problem haunted him in the middle years of his life, but he kept it a well-guarded secret.

When he reached his fifties, Beethoven was stone deaf. Three years later he made a tragic attempt to conduct an orchestra and failed miserably. Approximately five years later, he died during a fierce thunderstorm. He was deaf, yet a magnificent musician. On one occasion, Beethoven was overheard shouting at the top of his voice as he slammed both fists on the keyboard, “I will take life by the throat!”

Two of his daughters and a son-in-law committed suicide. Three of his children died of malnutrition. Marx felt no obligation to earn a living, but instead lived by begging from Engels. He fathered an illegitimate child by his maidservant. He drank heavily. He was a paid informer of the Austrian police, spying on revolutionaries. Though Marx and his wife were poor, he kept investing in the stock market where he constantly lost. His wife left him twice, but returned. He didn’t attend her funeral. His correspondence with Engels was full of obscenities. His favorite daughter, Eleanor, with her father’s approval, married Edward Eveling, a man who advocated blasphemy and worshipped Satan. Daughter Eleanor committed suicide. Karl Marx died in despair.

A story making the rounds concerns a Biology I examination in which the students were asked: “Suppose you could take to Mars any of the laboratory equipment used in this course. How would you determine if there was life on Mars?” One student responded: “Ask the inhabitants. Even a negative answer would be significant.” The student got an A.

A school teacher lost her life savings in a business scheme that had been elaborately explained by a swindler. When her investment disappeared and her dream was shattered, she went to the Better Business Bureau.

“Why on earth didn’t you come to us first?” the official asked. “Didn’t you know about the Better Business Bureau?”

“Oh, yes,” said the lady sadly. “I’ve always known about you. But I didn’t come because I was afraid you’d tell me not to do it.”

The folly of human nature is that even though we know where the answers lie—God’s Word—we don’t turn there for fear of what it will say.

- Jerry Lambert

Several years ago a farmer increased his farm holding from 300 acres to 9,000 acres. Everyone was proud of him and glad to see him prosper. He had a lovely family-two boys and a girl, and one of the sweetest wives in the world. He was a leader in the church and the family was very faithful. Needless to say, he became very wealthy. Life was good. As the responsibilities of the farm increased, his involvement with the church decreased. Over time the entire family became so involved with the farm and the wealth that they all became unfaithful and placed the church on low priority in their lives. The father died and the children fought over the land, lost it, and spent all the inheritance. Today, they have very little to do with each other and have gone through several difficult personal problems. Their mother died in poverty and loneliness.

What good does it to do gain the whole world and yet lose your soul and those of your loved ones? What can the world give in place of the soul?

Life’s lessons (and ages at which the person learned them)

Lending money to friends and relatives causes them to get amnesia. (32)

You should always put on a new bathing suit and get it wet before wearing it in public. (21)

No situation is so bad that losing your temper won’t make it. (41)

You shouldn’t leave your fork on the plate when you reheat food in the microwave. (13)

When you’re too busy for friends, you’re too busy. (48)

Life is like a 10-speed bicycle—most of us have gears we never use. (59)

When parents say, “It doesn’t matter what we think—you are the one dating him,” they hate the guy. (24)

Keep your words soft and tender because tomorrow you may have to eat them. (38)

The more mistakes you make, the smarter you get. (13)

If you are still talking about what you did yesterday, you haven’t done much today. (21)

A man’s life is always more forcible than his speech. When men take stock of him they reckon his deeds as dollars and his words as pennies. If his life and doctrine disagree the mass of onlookers accept his practice and reject his preaching.

A great mathematician once said that he was not concerned about spiritual matters until he vividly saw life’s “two magnitudes the shortness of time and the vastness of eternity.” When this truth came home to him, he became a devoted disciple of Jesus Christ.

If Pilate had considered these two realities, he would not have condemned Jesus to die on the cross. He knew that the Savior was innocent of the charged against Him. He even had an uneasy feeling that Jesus was not just an ordinary man. But his desire to keep his high government post was greater than his determination to do right. Actually, he obtained little earthly benefit from his decision.

The church father Eusebius, quoting from Greek historians, said that Pilate fell out of favor with his superiors and committed suicide before A.D. 40—less than 10 years after his fateful decree. Since we have no indication that he ever repented of his sin and trusted Christ as his personal Savior, we must assume he died in a lost and hopeless condition. He had not reckoned with the “shortness of time and the vastness of eternity.

On a dangerous seacoast where shipwrecks often occur, there was once a little life-saving station. The building was primitive, and there was just one boat, but the members of the life-saving station were committed and kept a constant watch over the sea. When a ship went down, they unselfishly went out day or night to save the lost. Because so many lives were saved by that station, it became famous.

Consequently, many people wanted to be associated with the station to give their time, talent, and money to support its important work. New boats were bought, new crews were recruited, a formal training session was offered. As the membership in the life-saving station grew, some of the members became unhappy that the building was so primitive and that the equipment was so outdated. They wanted a better place to welcome the survivors pulled from the sea. So they replaced the emergency cots with beds and put better furniture in the enlarged and newly decorated building.

Now the life-saving station became a popular gathering place for its members. They met regularly and when they did, it was apparent how they loved one another. They greeted each other, hugged each other, and shared with one another the events that had been going on in their lives. But fewer members were now interested in going to sea on life-saving missions; so they hired lifeboat crews to do this for them.

About this time, a large ship was wrecked off of the coast, and the hired crews brought into the life-saving station boatloads of cold, wet, dirty, sick, and half-drowned people. Some of them had black skin, and some had yellow skin. Some could speak English well, and some could hardly speak it at all. Some were first-class cabin passengers of the ship, and some were the deck hands.

The beautiful meeting place became a place of chaos. The plush carpets got dirty. Some of the exquisite furniture got scratched. So the property committee immediately had a shower built outside the house where the victims of shipwreck could be cleaned up before coming inside.

At the next meeting there was rift in the membership. Most of the members wanted to stop the club’s life-saving activities, for they were unpleasant and a hindrance to the normal fellowship of the members. Other members insisted that life-saving was their primary purpose and pointed out that they were still called a life-saving station. But they were finally voted down and told that if they wanted to save the lives of all those various kinds of people who would be shipwrecked, they could begin their own life-saving station down the coast. And do you know what? That is what they did.

As the years passed, the new station experienced the same changes that had occurred in the old. It evolved into a place to meet regularly for fellowship, for committee meetings, and for special training sessions about their mission, but few went out to the drowning people. The drowning people were no longer welcomed in that new life-saving station. So another life-saving station was founded further down the coast. History continued to repeat itself. And if you visit that seacoast today, you will find a number of adequate meeting places with ample parking and plush carpeting. Shipwrecks are frequent in those waters, but most of the people drown.

Life is a matter of building. Each of us has the opportunity to build something—a secure family, a good reputation, a career, a relationship to God. But some of those things can disappear almost overnight due to financial losses, natural disasters and other unforeseen difficulties.

What are we to do? Daniel Webster offered excellent advice, saying,

“If we work on marble it will perish. If we work on brass, time will efface it. If we rear temples, they will crumble to dust. But if we work on men’s immortal minds, if we imbue them with high principles, with just fear of God and love of their fellow-men, we engrave on those tablets something which time cannot efface, and which will brighten and brighten to all eternity.”

One by one he took them from me,

All the things I valued most,

Until I was empty-handed;

Every glittering toy was lost.

And I walked earth’s highway grieving,

In my rags and poverty,

Till I heard His voice inviting,

“Lift your empty hands to me.”

So I turned my hands toward heaven,

And He filled them with a store

Of His own transcendent riches,

Till they could contain no more,

Then at last I comprehended,

With my stupored mind and dull,

That God could not pour His riches

Into hands already full.

James Inglis was a graduate of Edinburgh University, learned and eloquent. He became the most popular preacher in Detroit, Michigan. Eager listeners filled his church to overflowing. One day, when he was preparing sermons for the following Sunday, it seemed as though a voice said to him, "James Inglis, whom are you preaching?" Startled, he answered, "I am preaching good theology." "I did not ask what you are preaching, but whom you are preaching." Inglis answered, "I am preaching the gospel." Again the voice said, "I did not ask you what you are preaching; I asked whom you are preaching." Silent, with bowed head, the preacher sat for a long time. Then rousing himself he cried, "O my God, I am preaching James Inglis, but henceforth I will preach Christ and Him crucified." Inglis went to a chest of drawers in his study, took his eloquent sermons from the files and burned them one by one. From that day he turned his back upon popularity and gave himself wholly to God's service by lifting Christ before men. God honored his consecration by giving him ever-widening influence.

Some people will change when they see the light. Others change only when they feel the heat.

Thomas A. Edison was working on a crazy contraption called a “light bulb” and it took a whole team of men 24 straight hours to put just one together. The story goes that when Edison was finished with one light bulb, he gave it to a young boy helper, who nervously carried it up the stairs. Step by step he cautiously watched his hands, obviously frightened of dropping such a priceless piece of work. You’ve probably guessed what happened by now; the poor young fellow dropped the bulb at the top of the stairs. It took the entire team of men twenty-four more hours to make another bulb. Finally, tired and ready for a break, Edison was ready to have his bulb carried up the stairs. He gave it to the same young boy who dropped the first one. That’s rue forgiveness.

No one switches on a flashlight in an area flooded by direct sunlight. We put on the light in order to dispel darkness. It is the darkness that makes the light necessary. God from eternity knew that men would choose darkness rather than light, and therefore He had to bring His light in Jesus Christ to shine in the midst of darkness.

A young woman asked me to tell her in a few words how she could know if she was really a Christian. I said: "If you are a Christian you are not afraid of the light because you live in it. You no longer run after sin, though it may run after you. When you belong to Christ, you will find it difficult to sin; but when you belong to Satan you will find it easy. You belong to the one whom you truly long to please."

God moves in a mysterious way

His wonders to perform;

He plants His footsteps in the sea,

And rides upon the storm.

Deep in unfathomable mines

Of never-failing skill

He treasures up His bright designs,

And works His sovereign will.

Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take,

The clouds ye so much dread

Are big with mercy, and shall break

In blessing on your head.

Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,

But trust Him for His grace

Behind a frowning providence

He hides a smiling face.

His purposes will ripen fast,

Unfolding every hour;

The bud may have a bitter taste,

But sweet will the flower.

Blind unbelief is sure to err,

And scan His work in vain:

God is His own interpreter,

And He will make it plain.

“One Saturday afternoon I watched the telecast of the world’s light-weight boxing championship match. The boxers were a thirty-one-year-old Scotsman and a man from the United States who was six years younger. The Scot was the reigning champion, and the bout was being fought before a crowd of twenty thousand in Glasgow, Scotland. The champion had said before the match that he would rather die than be beaten before his own people; but the younger contender had never before been beaten in a professional contest.

“Soon after the match began it became clear that the battle would be close. As I sat watching, I heard something unlike anything I had ever heard before. It was faint at first, but it seemed to be singing—singing at a boxing match! Gradually, it became louder; hundreds and hundreds of male voices singing a strange Scottish melody. I could hardly believe it. They were singing encouragement for their champion. As he fought for his crown, but even more for the respect of the Scottish people, they sang to encourage him.

“I have not thought about that contest since without a lump rising in my throat; nor have I thought of it without thinking how like the Christian’s battle it was, and how like the role of the church to sing encouragement for its members”.

The captain of the ship looked into the dark night and saw faint lights in the distance. Immediately he told his signalman to send a message” “Alter your course 10 degrees south.”

Promptly a return message was received: “Alter your course 10 degrees north.”

The captain was angered; his command had been ignored. So he sent a second message: “Alter your course 10 degrees south—I am the captain!”

Soon another message was received: Alter your course 10 degrees north—I am seaman third class Jones.”

Immediately the captain sent a third message, knowing the fear it would evoke: “Alter your course 10 degrees south—I am a battleship.”

Then the reply came “Alter your course 10 degrees north—I am a lighthouse.”

In the midst of our dark and foggy times, all sorts of voices are shouting orders into the night, telling us what to do, how to adjust our lives. Out of the darkness, one voice signals something quite opposite to the rest—something almost absurd. But the voice happens to be the Light of the World, and we ignore it at our peril.

In U.S. Navel Institute Proceedings, the magazine of the Naval Institute, Frank Koch illustrates the importance of obeying the Laws of the Lighthouse.

Two battleships assigned to the training squadron had been at sea on maneuvers in heavy weather for several days. I was serving on the lead battleship and was on watch on the bridge as night fell. The visibility was poor with patchy fog, so the captain remained on the bridge keeping an eye on all activities.

Shortly after dark, the lookout on the wing reported, “Light, bearing on the starboard bow.”

“Is it steady or moving astern?” the captain called out.

The lookout replied, “Steady, Captain,” which meant we were on a dangerous collision course with that ship.

The captain then called to the signalman, “Signal that ship: ‘We are on a collision course, advise you change course twenty degrees.’“

Back came the signal, “Advisable for you to change course twenty degrees.”

The captain said, “Send: “I’m a captain, change course twenty degrees.’“

“I’m a seaman second-class,” came the reply. “You had better change course twenty degrees.”

By that time the captain was furious. He spat out, “Send: ‘I’m a battleship. Change course twenty degrees.’”

Back came the flashing light, “I’m a lighthouse.”

We changed course.

The trouble with the advice, “Follow your conscience” is that most people follow it like someone following a wheelbarrow—they direct it wherever they want it to go, and then follow behind.

The eagle is one of the largest and most powerful birds in the world. Some eagles weigh as much as 12 or 13 pounds and have a wingspan of about seven feet.

The nests of eagles are called eyries. They are built mainly of sticks and are often lined with fresh green leaves while they are being used. Once a year, the female lays one or two eggs, and they are carefully tended, sometimes even by the male eagle, until they hatch, in about 40 days. Both parents then guard the nest and take food to the young.

At about 11 or 12 weeks, a curious thing happens. If the eaglets have not ventured forth on their own, the parent eagle "stirs" or rocks the nest, tipping the eaglets out! The young eaglets flap about in panic, still novices at this flying business. The parent eagle hovers watchfully, waiting for the critical moment. With wings spread wide, the eagle then swoops down underneath those babies and delivers them back to the security of the eyrie.

Ours is a God of powerful gentleness. Ours is a God whose timing is perfect. Like the parent eagle, He is sensitive to our needs. He knows when the nest has become too comfortable and needs a little stirring. He, too, watches carefully, and, as with spread wings, catches us up, bringing us to Himself. But He wants us to learn from our fluttering and flopping. He wants us to leave behind our panic and to learn to wait on Him. Then, with our eyes on our parent eagle, we will begin to know what it means to soar on eagle's wings!

One of the main reasons people hold false perceptions of God is our tendency to project onto God the unloving characteristics of the people we look up to. We tend to believe that God is going to treat us as other do. The Gaultieres agree: We like to think that we develop our image of God from the Bible and teachings of the church, not from our relationships—some of which have been painful. It’s easier if our God image is simply based on learning and believing the right things. Yet, intensive clinical studies on the development of peoples’ images of God show that it is not so simple. One psychologist found that this spiritual development of the God image is more of an emotional process than an intellectual one. She brings out the importance of family and other relationships to the development of what she calls one’s “private God.” She says that, “No child arrives at the ‘house of God’ without his pet God under his arm.” And for some of us the “pet God” we have tied on a leash to our hearts is not very nice, nor is it biblically accurate. This is because our negative images of God are often rooted in our emotional hurts and destructive patterns of relating to people that we carry with us from our past.

Imagine a little girl of seven who has known only rejection and abuse from her father whom she loves dearly. At Sunday School she is taught that God is her heavenly Father. What is her perception of Him going to be? Based on her experience with her natural father, she will see God as an unstable, rejecting, abusing person she cannot trust.

Consider just a few ways in which your image of your father possibly may have affected your perception of God, which in turn affects your self-image. If you father was distant, impersonal and uncaring, and he wouldn’t intervene for you, you may see God as having the same characteristics. As a result, you feel that you are unworthy of God’s intervention in your life. You find it difficult to draw close to God because you see Him as disinterested in your need and wants.

If your father was a pushy man who was inconsiderate of you, or who violated and used you, you may see God in the same way. You probably feel cheap or worthless in God’s eyes, and perhaps feel that you deserve to be taken advantage of by others. You may feel that God will force you—not ask you—to do things you don’t want to do.

If your father was like a drill sergeant, demanding more and more from you with no expression of satisfaction, or burning with anger with no tolerance for mistakes, you may have cast God in his image. You likely feel that God will not accept you unless you meet His demands, which seem unattainable. This perception may have driven you to become a perfectionist.

If your father was a weakling, and you couldn’t depend on him to help you or defend you, your image of God may be that of a weakling. You may feel that you are unworthy of God’s comfort and support, or that He is unable to help you.

If your father was overly critical and constantly came down hard on you, or if he didn’t believe in you or your capabilities and discouraged you from trying, you may perceive God in the same way. You don’t feel as if you’re worth God’s respect or trust. You may even see yourself as a continual failure, deserving all the criticism you receive.

In contrast to the negative perceptions many women have about God, let me give you several positive character qualities of a father. Notice how these qualities, if they existed in your father, have positively influenced your perception of God.

If your father was patient, you are more likely to see God as patient and available for you. You feel that you are worth God’s time and concern. You feel important to God and that He is personally involved in every aspect of your life.

If your father was kind, you probably see God acting kindly and graciously on your behalf. You feel that you are worth God’s help and intervention. You feel God’s love for you deeply and you’re convinced that He wants to relate to you personally.

If your father was a giving man, you may perceive God as someone who gives to you and supports you. You feel that you are worth God’s support and encouragement. You believe that God will give you what is best for you, and you respond by giving of yourself to others.

If your father accepted you, you tend to see God accepting you regardless of what you do. God doesn’t dump on you or reject you when you struggle, but understands and encourages you. You are able to accept yourself even when you blow it or don’t perform up to your potential.

If your father protected you, you probably perceive God as your protector in life. You feel that you are worthy of being under His care and you rest in His security.

Our lives are fields that primarily contain weeds. We cannot produce strawberries. We can mow the weeds, but that effort alone will never produce acceptable fruit. If we really want that fruit we will have to go deeper. We must plow up the whole field and start again with new plants.

A little girl in a Chinese village watched a missionary as he went about the Master's work. She saw him go to the homes where there were sickness, death, and sorrow, and she watched him as he moved about the village, though she never heard him speak in public. One day she went to another village and followed some girls into a mission school. There she heard a lady talking to them, in Chinese, about someone to whom little children came. One of the little girls asked the visitor, "Do you know who it was?" "Yes," she replied, "she was talking about the missionary who lives in our village." She had never heard about Jesus Christ, and when the teacher described the beautiful life of Jesus Christ, she thought she was describing the missionary.

Faith and works should travel side by side, step answering to step, like the legs of men walking. First faith, and then works; and then faith again, and then works again—until they can scarcely distinguish which is the one and which is the other.

What can make the difference in how we face our everyday trials, even our little ones, is our attitude. We can have the attitude of the Pharaoh of Egypt, who, when confronted by Moses and the ten plagues from God, grumbled, and griped, and became stubborn, causing more woes to come upon him. Or, that of Job, who at the loss of all his possessions, even his own health, succumbed to the will of God and remained faithful. That type of commitment to Christ will give us eternal life, happiness and joy.

Remember: "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me" (Phi 4:13). "And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God" (Rom 8:28).

Like picking ripe blackberries. During the summer of 1983 the blackberries on Whidbey island were thicker than ever before. It was an outstanding year, with gallons and gallons of ripe blackberries waiting to be picked. Conclusions:

(1) go where the berries are ripe;

(2) pick fast and furiously;

(3) don’t expend too much time where picking is slim;

(4) unpicked berries rot and fall;

(5) thorns can impede picking.

While on a tour of California’s giant sequoias, the guide pointed out that the sequoia tree has roots just barely below the surface. “That’s impossible!” I exclaimed. “I’m a country boy, and I know that if the roots don’t grow deep into the earth, strong winds will blow the trees over.” “Not sequoia trees,” said the guide. “They grow only in groves and their roots intertwine under the surface of the earth. So, when the strong winds come, they hold each other up.”

There’s a lesson here. In a sense, people are like the giant sequoias. Family, friends, neighbors, the church body and other groups should be havens so that when the strong winds of life blow, these people can serve as reinforcement and can strive together to hold each other up.

Robert Murray McCheyne wrote to Dan Edwards after the latter’s ordination as a missionary, “In great measure, according to the purity and perfections of the instrument, will be the success. It is not great talents God blesses so much as great likeness to Jesus. A holy minister is an awful weapon in the hand of God” (emphasis mine).

When Paul says, "For now we see through a glass, darkly" in 1Co_13:12, he is not speaking of seeing through a dirty windowpane but of looking into a shadowy mirror such as those manufactured in Bible times in Corinth. All our attempts to look at truth as we see it reflected in creation, in history, in our own consciousness, and even in the Bible, can give us only a dim and imperfect idea of God and of heavenly realities because of human finiteness and sin. Our perception of realities may be more or less the truth as far as our perception goes, but this is always dim and imperfect.

The Bible tells of prophets who "err in vision, they stumble in judgment" (Isa 28:7) and of those who "find no vision from the Lord" (Lam 2:9). Christians are too often like the little boy living in East London who made his first visit to the country. He lay on the grass in the orchard and made a chain of daisies. The swallows flew across the sky.

"Look up, Jimmy. See the pretty birds flying through the air," called his mother. He looked up quickly and in a pitying tone, said, "Poor little birds; they haven't got no cages, have they?"

East London had dwarfed Jimmy's vision. So it is with many professing Christians. They become so occupied with the paltry things of earth that they scorn those who place their affections on things above.

Abraham Lincoln spoke about the legacy the people of his time were leaving, and he clearly is speaking to us today as well.

"We have been the recipients of the choicest bounties of heaven; we have been preserved these many years in peace and prosperity; we have grown in number, wealth, and power as no other nation has ever grown.

"But we have forgotten God. We have forgotten the gracious Hand which preserved us in peace and multiplied and enriched and strengthened us, and we have vainly imagined, in the deceitfulness of our hearts, that all these things were produced by some superior wisdom and virtue of our own.

"Intoxicated with unbroken success, we have become too self-sufficient to feel the necessity of redeeming and preserving grace, too proud to pray to the God that made us."

Alistair Cooke writes, “Adlai Stevenson once told me about a curious experience he had relative to Abraham Lincoln. It was 1952. Stevenson had just lost the election to Eisenhower, and had been asked by outgoing President Harry Truman to spend the night at the White House. He was put in the Lincoln Room. When he came to undress, he looked at the bed, shuffled around it, staring in awe. But he could not bring himself to lie in it. He bedded down on the sofa.

I don’t know if he was ever apprised of the irony: in Lincoln’s day the bed wasn’t there; the sofa was.”

Throughout his administration, Abraham Lincoln was a president under fire, especially during the scarring years of the Civil War. And though he knew he would make errors of office, he resolved never to compromise his integrity. So strong was this resolve that he once said, “I desire so to conduct the affairs of this administration that if at the end, when I come to lay down the reins of power, I have lost every other friend on earth, I shall at least have one friend left, and that friend shall be down inside of me.”

"I was eight years old when my father took me with him to Washington," said a man who was later prominent in national life. "It was during the darkest hours of the Civil War.

"We were walking on the street when a tall, thin man with very long legs, loose clothes and a frowning, wrinkled face, came striding toward us. His eyes were fixed on the pavement. His lips were moving. I remember thinking how cross he looked and what long strides he took, making his coattails flop about his legs.

"But I was more interested in watching a ragged little urchin between us, standing on the curb, his big eyes fixed on a pile of oranges in a vendor's cart. The vendor's back was turned while he made change for a customer.

"The tall man passed the boy at the same time we did. He stopped suddenly, plunged a hand into his pocket, bought a big orange, gave it to the boy, and went on.

"The boy was grinning and had already set his teeth in the orange, much to my envy, when my father asked him whether he knew who gave it to him. He shook his head, his teeth going deeper into the orange.

"'That was President Lincoln, lad,'my father said, 'Hurry and thank him.'

"The boy ran, caught the flopping coat, and as the stern face turned sharply, he called, 'Thank you, Mr. President Lincoln!'

"Suddenly the face was transformed as I have never seen a face since then. A beautiful smile covered it, making it what has ever since seemed to me one of the handsomest faces I have ever seen. A voice which thrills me yet said: 'You're welcome, boy. You wanted to steal it while the man wasn't looking, didn't you? But you wouldn't because it wasn't honest. That's the right way. I wish some men I know were like you.'"

Common advice given to people who want to improve their use of time is to focus on what contributes most. The inverse, however, is also a worthy pursuit. What does not contribute but only wastes time? Try listing all the “time wasters” in a typical week and then rank them on the basis of their degree of time misuse. Ask questions: “What would happen if I didn’t do this? Would it make a significant difference? Can I delegate this?”

A number of years ago a fascinating interview took place between Mr. Charles Schwab, then president of Bethlehem Steel, and Ivy Lee, a self-styled management consultant. Lee was an aggressive, self-confident man who by his perseverance had secured the interview with Mr. Schwab, who was no less self-assured, being one of the most powerful men in the world. During the conversation, Mr. Lee asserted that if the management of Bethlehem Steel would follow his advice, the company’s operations would be improved and their profits increased. Schwab responded, “If you can show us a way to get more things done, I’ll be glad to listen; and if it works, I’ll pay you whatever you ask within reason.” Lee handed Schwab a blank piece of paper and said, “Write down the most important things you have to do tomorrow.” Mr. Schwab did so. “Now, “ Lee continued, “Number them in order of importance.” Schwab did so. “Tomorrow morning start on number one, and stay with it until you have completed it. Then go on to number two and number three and number four…Don’t worry if you haven’t completed everything by the end of the day. At least you will have completed the most important projects. Do this every day. After you have been convinced of the value of this system, have your men try it. Try it as long as you like, and then send me your check for whatever you think the advice is worth.” The two men shook hands and Lee left the president’s office. A few weeks later Charles Schwab sent Ivy Lee a check for $25,000—an astronomical amount in the 1930s! He said it was the most profitable lesson he had learned in his long business career.

Writer Charles Swindoll once found himself with too many commitments in too few days. He got nervous and tense about it.

“I was snapping at my wife and our children, choking down my food at mealtimes, and feeling irritated at those unexpected interruptions through the day,” he recalled in his book Stress Fractures. “Before long, things around our home started reflecting the pattern of my hurry-up style. It was becoming unbearable.

“I distinctly remember after supper one evening, the words of our younger daughter, Colleen. She wanted to tell me something important that had happened to her at school that day. She began hurriedly, ‘Daddy, I wanna tell you somethin’ and I’ll tell you really fast.’

“Suddenly realizing her frustration, I answered, ‘Honey, you can tell me—and you don’t have to tell me really fast. Say it slowly.”

“I’ll never forget her answer: ‘Then listen slowly.’”

Good listening is like tuning in a radio station. For good results, you can listen to only one station at a time. Trying to listen to my wife while looking over an office report is like trying to receive two radio stations at the same time. I end up with distortion and frustration.

Listening requires a choice of where I place my attention. To tune into my partner, I must first choose to put away all that will divide my attention. That might mean laying down the newspaper, moving away from the dishes in the sink, putting down the book I’m reading, setting aside my projects.

Is the fire spoken of literal fire? It is an accepted law of language that a figure of speech is less intense than the reality. If “fire” is merely a figurative expression, it must stand for some great reality, and if the reality is more intense than the figure, what an awful thing the punishment symbolized by fire must be.

A city in the Netherlands had a problem with litter. The sanitation department tried doubling the littering fine and even increasing the number of litter agents who patrolled the area, but to no avail. Then someone suggested that instead of punishing those who littered, they could reward people who put garbage in trash cans. A plan to devise a trash can that could dispense coins when litter was inserted was rejected as too expensive. But it led to another idea: the sanitation department developed a trash can that played a recording of a joke when refuse was deposited! Different cans played different kinds of jokes, and the recordings were changed every two weeks.

Citizens went out of their way to put garbage in trash cans, and the streets were clean again.

About halfway through (a PBS program on the Library of Congress), Dr. Daniel Boorstin, the Librarian of Congress, brought out a little blue box from a small closet that once held the library’s rarities. The label on the box read: CONTENTS OF THE PRESIDENT’S POCKETS ON THE NIGHT OF APRIL 14, 1865.

Since that was the fateful night Abraham Lincoln was assassinated, every viewer’s attention was seized. Boorstin then proceeded to remove the items in the small container and display them on camera. There were five things in the box:

A handkerchief, embroidered “A. Lincoln”

A country boy’s pen knife

A spectacles case repaired with string

A purse containing a $5 bill—Confederate money(!)

Some old and worn newspaper clippings

“The clippings,” said Boorstin, “were concerned with the great deeds of Abraham Lincoln. And one of them actually reports a speech by John Bright which says that Abraham Lincoln is “one of the greatest men of all times.” Today that’s common knowledge.

The world now knows that British statesman John Bright was right in his assessment of Lincoln, but in 1865 millions shared quite a contrary opinion. The President’s critics were fierce and many. His was a lonely agony that reflected the suffering and turmoil of his country ripped to shreds by hatred and a cruel, costly war. There is something touchingly pathetic in the mental picture of this great leader seeking solace and self-assurance from a few old newspaper clippings as he reads them under the flickering flame of a candle all alone in the Oval Office.

Remember this: Loneliness stalks where the buck stops.

There’s little difference in ethical behavior between the churched and the unchurched. There’s as much pilferage and dishonesty among the churched as the unchurched. And I’m afraid that applies pretty much across the board: religion, per se, is not really life changing. People cite it as important, for instance, in overcoming depression—but it doesn’t have primacy in determining behavior.

1. Seen in undue care—MATT. 6:30. If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith?

2. Seen in fear—MATT. 8:26. He replied, “You of little faith, why are you so afraid?” Then he got up and rebuked the winds and the waves, and it was completely calm.

3. Seen in doubt—MATT. 14:31. Immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him. “You of little faith,” he said, “why did you doubt?”

4. Seen in wrong thinking—MATT. 16:8. Aware of their discussion, Jesus asked, “You of little faith, why are you talking among yourselves about having no bread?

5. Seen in failure—MATT. 17:20. He replied, “Because you have so little faith. I tell you the truth, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there’ and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you.”

Marguerite Bro tells of a minister who took his little child to a circus. She writes,

“The clowns were particularly good and the last one of them was a little fellow wearing a very wonderful high hat. While he was bowing elaborately to a dignified woman, his hat fell off and an elephant sat on it.

“The clown gestured wildly at the elephant, but the beast sat still. He waved and shouted again and again, but the elephant never budged. Angrily the clown stepped behind the elephant and kicked with all his strength, and hopped away with a sore foot in his hands.

“Then, frantic with anger, the little clown turned back to the elephant and tried to lift him off the hat. Defeated and in complete despair, the clown sat down and started to eat peanuts. The elephant was interested in peanuts and got up, ambled over, and begged for one!”

That was a powerful illustration for that minister. He realized that he’d just witnessed a spiritual object lesson: You can’t accomplish anything for God by crabbing and kicking at the world (or your spouse, child, neighbor or co-worker!).

But little is gained if opinions are crammed into men; and this is likely to be the case where they are not permitted to inquire and to doubt. At the same time it must be remembered that no spirit is more unfriendly to that indifference of mind so essential to freedom of inquiry than that which arises in the conduct of controversy. When we become advocates we lay aside the garb of philosophers. The desire of victory is often stronger than the love of truth; and pride, jealousy, ambition and envy, identifying ourselves with our opinions, will lend their aid to pervert our judgments and to seduce us from our candor. A disputatious spirit is always the mark of a little mind. The cynic may growl, but he can never aspire to the dignity of character. There are undoubtedly occasions when we must contend earnestly for the truth; but...we should look well to our own hearts, that no motives animate us but the love of truth and zeal for the highest interests of man.

A friend of mine in Chicago took his Sabbath-school out on the cars once. A little boy was allowed to sit on the platform of the car, when by some mischance he fell, and the whole train passed over him. They had to go on a half a mile before they could stop. They went back to him and found that the poor little fellow had been cut and mangled all to pieces. Two of the teachers went back with the remains to Chicago. Then came the terrible task of telling the parents about it. When they got to the house they dared not go in. They were waiting there for five minutes before anyone had the courage to tell the story. But at last they ventured in. They found the family at dinner. The father was called out--they thought they would tell the father first. He came out with the napkin in his hand. My friend said to him: "I have got very bad news to tell you. Your little Jimmy has got run over by the cars." The poor man turned deathly pale and rushed into the room crying out, "Dead, dead." The mother sprang to her feet and came out of the sitting-room where the teachers were. When she heard the sad story she fainted dead away at their feet. "Moody," said my friend, "I wouldn't be the messenger of such tidings again if you would give me the whole of Chicago. I never suffered so much." I have got a son dearer to me than my life, and yet I would rather have a train a mile long run over him than that he should die without God and without hope. What is the loss of a child to the loss of a soul?

A man approached a little league baseball game one afternoon. He asked a boy in the dugout what the score was. The boy responded, “Eighteen to nothing—we’re behind.” “Boy,” said the spectator, “I’ll bet you’re discouraged.” “Why should I be discouraged?” replied the little boy. “We haven’t even gotten up to bat yet!”

A man sentenced to death obtained a reprieve by assuring the king he would teach his majesty’s horse to fly within the year—on the condition that if he didn’t succeed, he would be put to death at the end of the year. “Within a year,” the man explained later, “the king may die, or I may die, or the horse may die. Furthermore, in a year, who knows? Maybe the horse will learn to fly.”

- Bernard M. Baruch

A mother attended a service in a large and crowded auditorium with her little daughter, Mary. In some manner the two became separated. The mother sent a note to the platform which was read aloud: "If there is a little girl named Mary Moore in the audience, who is lost, will she please raise her hand so her mother can find her." No little girl raised her hand so the mother had the police searching the city for the child. Still not finding her, the mother came back and stood at the door of the auditorium as the people filed out. Among the last of them was Mary. Her mother snatched her up, crying, "Where were you, Mary?" "On the front row," replied the little one. "Didn't you hear the man read the notice, 'If there is a little girl named Mary Moore in the audience, who is lost, will she please raise her hand so her mother can find her?'" "Yes," said Mary, "I heard it." "Then why didn't you raise your hand?" "Why, Mother, it couldn't have meant me," said Mary, "for I wasn't lost. I knew where I was."

I remember when I was a boy I went several miles from home with an older brother. That seemed to me the longest visit of my life. It seemed that I was then further away from home than I had ever been before, or have ever been since. While we were walking down the street we saw an old man coming toward us, and my brother said, "There is a man that will give you a cent. He gives every new boy that comes into this town a cent." That was my first visit to the town, and when the old man got opposite to us he looked around, and my brother not wishing me to lose the cent, and to remind the old man that I had not received it, told him that I was a new boy in the town. The old man, taking off my hat, placed his trembling hand on my head, and told me I had a Father in heaven. It was a kind, simple act, but I feel the pressure of the old man's hand upon my head to-day. You don't know how much you may do by just speaking kindly.

Mary had a little pig and it was white as snow,

That is when it had had a bath, as you of course might know.

But Mary had an awful time to keep the piggy clean,

For it was just the dirtiest pig that one has ever seen.

She’d wash him and she’d scrub him, till he would squirm and squeal,

As if he wanted her to know it was an unfair deal.

And then inside his green backyard he’d plan from morn to night,

Unless he happened to sneak out and lose himself from sight.

And then when Mary found him he’d be blacker than ere before,

So Mary’d get the soap again and scrub the pig some more.

Poor Mary thought and wondered much what she could ever do

Until she figured out a plan, and this she carried through.

She took him to a doctor who put the pig to sleep, and then he

Took his heart right out, but not of course to keep.

And then he took a little lamb and took his heart out too

And put it in the little pig before the piggy knew.

When little piggy did awake he had no more desire

To wallow in the mud again or ever in the mire.

And try as hard as ere he could he never understood,

How such a pig as once he was could ever be so good.

And so you see, dear friends of mine, you need a new heart too,

Just like the little piggy did, the old will never do.

If you’ll receive a brand new heart, well, here is how you may.

Accept God’s son as savior now and let him in today.

We take pink pills for old arthritis and green ones, perhaps, for the heart.

A blue one because you are dizzy--hope the stomach can tell them apart.

A white pill controls the blood pressure; a red one helps soften the stool;

A yellow one calms you down greatly so you won’t be acting the fool.

There are two-toned, and gray and brown pills for relief from head-aches and gout,

Diabetes, ulcers and heartburn, sure hope each pill knows the right route.

What a terrible mess up there could be if your headache pill went to your toe,

And the laxative pill traveled upward ’cause it wasn’t quite sure where to go.

If this should ever happen to you, you’d either laugh or you’d weep.

’Cause you’d probably run off at the mouth and your feet would be falling asleep.

How in the world could you stop the dilemma unless you stood on your head,

So the pills could all change directions before you wound up sick in bed.

What would happen if time released capsules forgot to do the right thing

And released all their pellets at once. A great upset they would bring.

So little pills of every kind, just wend your way thru us and find

The ailment that we take you for so we won’t worry anymore!

Success is often reached through the little stuff. When Pat Riley coached the Los Angeles Lakers from 1982 to 1990, the team won four NBA championships. In taking over the New York in 1991, Riley inherited a team with a losing record. But the Knicks seemed able to play above their abilities and even gave the eventual champions, the Chicago Bulls, their hardest competition in the play-offs last May.

How does Riley do it? He says his talent lies in attention to detail. For example, every NBA team studies videotapes and compiles statistics to evaluate players’ game performances. But Riley’s use of these tools is more comprehensive than that of his rivals. “We measure areas of performance that are often ignored: jumping in pursuit of every rebound even if you don’t get it, swatting at every pass, diving for loose balls, letting someone smash into you in order to draw a foul.”

After each game, these “effort” statistics are punched into a computer. “Effort,” Riley explains, “is what ultimately separates journeyman players from impact players. Knowing how well a player executes all these little things is the key to unlocking career-best performances.”

Success is often reached through the little stuff. When Pat Riley coached the Los Angeles Lakers from 1982 to 1990, the team won four NBA championships. In taking over the New York Knicks in 1991, Riley inherited a team with a losing record. But the Knicks seemed able to play above their abilities and even gave the eventual champions, the Chicago Bulls, their hardest competition in the play-offs last May.

How does Riley do it? He says his talent lies in attention to detail. For example, every NBA team studies videotapes and compiles statistics to evaluate players’ game performances. But Riley’s use of these tools is more comprehensive than that of his rivals. “We measure areas of performance that are often ignored: jumping in pursuit of every rebound even if you don’t get it, swatting at every pass, diving for loose balls, letting someone smash into you in order to draw a foul.”

After each game, these “effort” statistics are punched into a computer. “Effort,” Riley explains, “is what ultimately separates journeyman players from impact players. Knowing how well a player executes all these little things is the key to unlocking career-best performances.”

Dr. W. H. Lax was a Methodist minister in the East End of London for 38 years. He learned that an old man was gravely ill, and Dr. Lax called on him. However, he was an unwelcome visitor, for as soon as the sick man caught sight of Lax's clerical collar, he turned his head and refused to utter a word.

While trying to sustain a conversation, Dr. Lax noted the dreariness of the room and the pitifully small fire; he suspected that provisions had run low. When he left the patient, Dr. Lax stopped at a butcher shop and had two lamb chops sent to the house.

He called again a few days later, and though the old man was still far from talkative, he was a little more friendly. On the way home another order was left with the butcher. By the third visit, there was a pronounced change in the patient. He was congenial and even outgoing, and before leaving, Dr. Lax was even able to pray with the man.

A preaching engagement took Dr. Lax out of London for a few days, and when he got back he was informed that the old gentleman had died. At the end when he was hardly able to speak, the patient had gasped, "Tell Dr. Lax it is all right now. I am going to God; but be sure to tell him that it was not his preaching that changed me. It was those lamb chops."

A plainly dressed woman was noticed picking up something on a poor slum street where ragged barefooted little children were accustomed to play. The policeman on the beat noticed the woman's action, and watched her very suspiciously. Several times he saw her stoop, pick up something and hide it in her apron. Finally he went up to her, and with a gruff voice demanded, "What are you carrying off in your apron?" The timid woman did not answer at first, whereupon the policeman, thinking she must have found something valuable, threatened her with arrest if she did not show him what she had in her apron. The woman opened her apron and revealed a handful of broken glass. "What do you want with that stuff?" asked the policeman. The woman replied, "I just thought I would pick it up so the glass would not hurt the children's feet."

As reported in USA Today, Jerald Jellison said, “Each of us fibs at least 50 times a day.” He explained that we lie about our age, our income, or our accomplishments. And we use lies to escape embarrassment.

A common reason for “little white lies,” we’re told, is to protect someone else’s feelings. Yet in so doing, we are really protecting ourselves.

According to Jellison, here are some of our most commonly used fibs:

“I wasn’t feeling well.”

“I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”

“The check is in the mail.”

“I was just kidding.”

“I was only trying to help.”

Throughout (tractate) Berachoth: there seems to be an emphasis on liturgy and outward form rather than inner, or private prayer.

For example, in 1:4 the number of benedictions for a day is specified, a total of seven and their length—”One is long and one is short. Where they said it must be long, it is not allowed to be made short.” In Berachoth 3:1 Gamaliel taught that “one must say every day the Eighteen Benedictions.” In Berachoth 6:5 blessings over meals must be precisely done. According to the School of Shammai a blessing over the appetizer did not serve for what had been prepared in the pot. The concern is not so much the intent of the prayer but the act of it and the precision of the act. In Berachoth 2:3 the stress is put on reciting the Shema not understanding it—”He who reads the Shema and does not hear his own words has complied with the requirements of the Law.” Though some disagreed (R. Jose believed Shema implies one must hear) this was the accepted view. And an emphasis on form seems also implied by the ruling that if a mistake in reciting was made the reader had to go back to the mistake and repeat the word or verse correctly. In 5:5 a mistake in reading was considered a “bad omen,” but some (R. Chanina ben Dosa) considered fluent prayer a guarantee of answered prayer. While some of these rulings are later than the Gospel era they may reflect the attitude and trend of the earlier rabbis. Liturgy itself is not wrong and concern for correctness in reading and doing is justified, but throughout the tractate the emphasis indicates that a value on the form was greater than that on the intent or spirit. These practices may be in the background of our Lord’s harsh criticism of hypocritical prayers (Matt. 6).

Fred Craddock, in an address to ministers, caught the practical implications of consecration. “To give my life for Christ appears glorious,” he said. “To pour myself out for others...to pay the ultimate price of martyrdom—I’ll do it. I’m ready, Lord, to go out in a blaze of glory.

“We think giving our all to the Lord is like taking a $1,000 bill and laying it on the table—’Here’s my life, Lord. I’m giving it all.’

“But the reality for most of us is that he sends us to the bank and has us cash in the $1,000 for quarters. We go through life putting out 25 cents here and 50 cents there. Listen to the neighbor kid’s troubles instead of saying, ‘Get lost.’ Go to a committee meeting. Give a cup of water to a shaky old man in a nursing home.

“Usually giving our life to Christ isn’t glorious. It’s done in all those little acts of love, 25 cents at a time. It would be easy to go out in a flash of glory; it’s harder to live the Christian life little by little over the long haul.”

Because his body had no immune system to fight disease, a lad in Texas lived out his short life inside a bubble. For more than 10 years he lived in the plastic dome, isolated from the infectious agents that others live with which could prove fatal to him. He breathed filtered air, ate sterile food, and until his final days was touched only by hands wearing sterile rubber gloves. Some Christians believe isolation is the only way they can keep from “being polluted by the world” (James 1:27).

A paramedic was asked on a local TV talk-show program: “What was your most unusual and challenging 911 call?”

“Recently we got a call from that big white church at 11^th and Walnut,” the paramedic said. “A frantic usher was very concerned that during the sermon an elderly man passed out in a pew and appeared to be dead. The usher could find no pulse and there was no noticeable breathing.”

“What was so unusual and demanding about this particular call?” the interviewer asked.

“Well,” the paramedic said, “we carried out four guys before we found the one who was dead."

Naturalist Henry David Thoreau is often noted for his statement that most men “live lives of quiet desperation.” In an attempt to avoid that kind of existence, he lived alone from 1845 to 1847 in the woods of Walden Pond, Massachusetts. In 1854, he published his experiences in the book Walden. He wrote, “I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear…”

A missionary who was speaking to a group of Hindu women was surprised to see one of them get up and walk away. Soon she returned and listened more intently than before. "Why did you leave in the middle of my message?" asked the missionary. "I was so interested in the wonderful things you were saying that I went to ask your servant if you live like you teach. He said you do. So I came back to hear more about Jesus," said the woman.

In his book of sermons “The Living Faith”, Lloyd C. Douglas tells the story of Thomas Hearne, who, “in his journey to the mouth of the Coppermine River, wrote that a few days after they had started on their expedition, a party of Indians stole most of their supplies. His comment on the apparent misfortune was: “The weight of our baggage being so much lightened, our next day’s journey was more swift and pleasant.’

“Hearne was in route to something very interesting and important; and the loss of a few sides of bacon and a couple of bags of flour meant nothing more than an easing of the load. Had Hearne been hole in somewhere, in a cabin, resolved to spend his last days eking out an existence, and living on capital previously collected, the loss of some of his stores by plunder would probably have worried him almost to death.”

How we respond to “losing” some of our resources for God’s work depends upon whether we are on the move or waiting for our last stand.

- Eugene L. Feagin

If you were to visit Paris, you could see the statues of two men, both named Louis. The first is of Louis XIV, France's absolute monarch, who is remembered today chiefly for his exclamation, "I am the State." He represents one of the supreme achievements of greatness through power. His philosophy of life was that the whole nation and the world, insofar as he could compel it, should serve him. A few blocks away is a less pretentious statue. There is no uniform on this figure carved in stone, no badge of office, no sword, no crown. It is a memorial to Louis Pasteur, the servant of humanity and servant of God. His life of unselfish, devoted research conferred immeasurable benefits upon all humanity in the years to come through overcoming disease and suffering. The statue of the monarch is nothing more than a piece of sculpture; the statue of Pasteur is a shrine where pilgrims from all over the world pay grateful homage. It is the uncrowned servant of mankind who wears the real crown of men's love and honor. As you look back, would you rather be remembered as Louis XIV who became supreme ruler of France and now has just a statue to commemorate him or Louis Pasteur who is now crowned as an apostle of mercy? God's Word enjoins us not to be affected by the glamor of the moment but rather by the judgment of eternity.

Have you ever thought about an ambulance? An ambulance tears around town with its siren blaring. It is always going to a crisis or leaving a crisis. It is built for emergencies.

Many people live the same way. They run their lives with a siren going. Every day is desperate, and every moment is a crisis, or preparation for one. Such as harried existence leaves no room for smelling roses or enjoying sunsets. Even worse, it leaves no time for sharing friendships and building love.

Finally, what if some of the things you are tearing around to do did not get done? Suppose you substituted a quiet walk around the block or time off to call on a friend or time out to read a book? Suppose you wrote an encouraging note to someone who really needed it? Would your world fall apart? Or would it perhaps get back into perspective? So "Seek first his kingdom and his righteousness and all these things will be given to you as well" (Mat_6:33).

Men who live in the past remind me of a toy I’m sure all of you have seen. The toy is a small wooden bird called the “Floogie Bird.” Around the Floogie Bird’s neck is a label reading, “I fly backwards, I don’t care where I’m going. I just want to see where I’ve been.

Britain’s King George V was to give the opening address at a special disarmament conference, with the speech relayed by radio to the U.S. As the broadcast was about to begin, a cable broke in the New York radio station, and more than a million listeners were left without sound. A junior mechanic in the station, Harold Vivien, solved the problem by picking up both ends of the cable and allowing 250 volts of electricity to pass through him. He was the living link that allowed the king’s message to get through.