Pastoral Resources

I rest beneath the Almighty’s shade,

My griefs expire, my troubles cease;

Thou, Lord, on whom my soul is stayed,

Wilt keep me still in perfect peace.

- Charles Wesley

Dream On. Postwar Americans always cherished the expectation that their standard of living would improve with each generation. In polls at the onset of the Reagan era, 2 of every 3 respondents said they expected to be better off than their parents. Now, that figure is being reversed. Almost three fourth of the 1,000 people who answered a Roper poll for Shearson Lehman Brothers say the American Dream is “harder to attain” than a generation ago. And 60 percent say achieving the dream requires more financial risk than it did for their parents.

The poll also finds that some of the values held most dear during the 1980s—like wealth, power and fame—are those that Americans are now most likely to deem “unimportant.” The most important elements of today’s American Dream center on family and friends. But money remains something to dream about.

For Americans with household incomes under $25,000, it would take $54,000 a year to fulfill the American dream. Those who make $100,000 plus crave an average of $192,000. In other words, the American Dream usually lies nearly twice the distance away.

The following story appeared in the newsletter “Our America:”

"Dodie Gadient, a schoolteacher for thirteen years, decided to travel across America and see the sights she had taught about. Traveling alone in a truck with camper in tow, she launched out. One afternoon rounding a curve on I-5 near Sacramento in rush-hour traffic, a water pump blew on her truck. She was tired, exasperated, scared, and alone. In spite of the traffic jam she caused, no one seemed interested in helping.

"Leaning up against the trailer, she prayed, 'Please God, send me an angel … preferably one with mechanical experience.' Within four minutes, a huge Harley drove up, ridden by an enormous man sporting long, black hair, a beard and tattooed arms. With an incredible air of confidence, he jumped off and, without even glancing at Dodie, went to work on the truck. Within another few minutes, he flagged down a larger truck, attached a tow chain to the frame of the disabled Chevy, and whisked the whole 56-foot rig off the freeway onto a side street, where he calmly continued to work on the water pump.

"The intimidated schoolteacher was too dumbfounded to talk. Especially when she read the paralyzing words on the back of his leather jacket: 'Hell's Angels—California.' As he finished the task, she finally got up the courage to say, 'Thanks so much,' and carry on a brief conversation. Noticing her surprise at the whole ordeal, he looked her straight in the eye and mumbled, 'Don't judge a book by its cover. You may not know who you're talking to.' With that, he smiled, closed the hood of the truck, and straddled his Harley. With a wave, he was gone as fast as he had appeared."

Given half a chance, people often crawl out of the boxes into which we've relegated them.

Few things are harder to put up with than the annoyance of a good example.

- Mark Twain

We know not what we should pray for as we ought - Romans 8:26.

I prayed for strength, and then I lost awhile

All sense of nearness, human and divine;

The love I leaned on failed and pierced my heart;

The hands I clung to loosed themselves from mine;

But while I swayed, weak, trembling, and alone,

The everlasting arms upheld my own.

I prayed for light; the sun went down in clouds,

The moon was darkened by a misty doubt,

The stars of heaven were dimmed by earthly fears,

But all my little candle flames burned out;

But while I sat in shadow, wrapped in night,

The face of Christ made all the darkness bright.

I prayed for peace, and dreamed of restful ease,

A slumber drugged from pain, a hushed repose;

Above my head the skies were black with storm,

And fiercer grew the onslaught of my foes;

But while the battle raged, and wild winds blew,

I heard His voice, and perfect peace I knew.

I thank Thee, Lord, Thou wert too wise to heed

My feeble prayers, and answer as I sought,

Since these rich gifts Thy bounty has bestowed

Have brought me more than I had asked or thought.

Giver of good, so answer each request

With Thine own giving, better than my best.

- Annie Johnson Flint

Last eve I paused before a blacksmith’s door

and heard the anvil ring the vesper chime.

And looking in, I saw old hammers on the floor,

Worn by the beating years of time.

“How many anvils have you had,” said I,

“To wear and batter all these hammers so?”

“Just one,” said he, then with a twinkle in his eyes,

“The anvil wears the hammers out you know.”

And so I thought, the anvil of God’s word,

For ages skeptic blows have beat upon.

Yet though the noise of falling blows was heard

The anvil is unharmed—the hammers gone!

Hugh Lattimer once preached before King Henry VIII. Henry was greatly displeased by the boldness in the sermon and ordered Lattimer to preach again on the following Sunday and apologize for the offence he had given. The next Sunday, after reading his text, he thus began his sermon:

“Hugh Lattimer, dost thou know before whom thou are this day to speak? To the high and mighty monarch, the king’s most excellent majesty, who can take away thy life, if thou offendest. Therefore, take heed that thou speakest not a word that may displease. But then consider well, Hugh, dost thou not know from whence thou comest—upon Whose message thou are sent? Even by the great and mighty God, Who is all-present and Who beholdeth all thy ways and Who is able to cast thy soul into hell! Therefore, take care that thou deliverest thy message faithfully.”

He then preached the same sermon he had preached the preceding Sunday—and with considerably more energy.

Said an archbishop to the manager of the acting group, "Tell me, how is it that you actors hold the attention of your audience so vividly that you cause them to think of things imaginary as if they were real, while we of the church speak of things that are real but our congregations take them as imaginary?" The reason is plain," answered the actor. "We actors speak of things imaginary as if they were real; while too many in the pulpit speak of things real as if they were imaginary." It was said of one famous old preacher, "He showed us the fires of hell, and then he swept our souls up to the gates of heaven." When you talk about Christ, you have to believe in the transforming power of the gospel if you expect to convince anyone of its power to save.

On a wall in the Vatican, an artist sought to express the relationship between three spiritual gifts. He represented Love as standing up attending to the needs of those around her, and Hope as looking upward with prophetic expectation. Both of them, however, are standing on another form named Faith who has her arms around the cross to which she clings for support.

To just come right out and ask somebody what they think you smell like might be offensive to them (or to you-if they give you a candid answer). But most people care deeply about what others think of their particular odor. Americans spend zillions of dollars every year on perfumes (Obsession- for 4 ounces) and cologne (quality gentlemen's foo-foo sells for about an ounce, too). But those products just fix you from the neck up. Deodorants, special soaps, body splashes and powders, breath mints and mouthwashes are also big ticket items for the socially conscious.

If you need a good excuse to buy products that make you smell pleasant, here it is. Now there is a new branch of scientific research called "odor engineering." So far the researchers have tried odor engineering only in the work place.

According to the publication Communication Briefings, one Japanese firm reports that air scented with lavender cut keypunching errors by 21 percent. Jasmine-scented air dropped errors by 33 percent and lemon in the air was even better-this cut errors by 54 percent. They determined that lavender reduces stress, jasmine relaxes and lemon stimulates. Odors do make a difference.

This gives new significance to a Scripture that has always intrigued me. "For we are to God the aroma of Christ among those who are being saved and those who are perishing. To the one we are the smell of death; to the other, the fragrance of life" (2Co 2:15-16).

The odor engineers have not done any research as to what happens to people (or a community) when a true believer comes around and gives everybody a whiff of Christ. But Paul says this odor does make a difference. The believer, with the knowledge and life of Christ, emits (in a figurative way) the very smell of Christ's sweet sacrifice (note Eph 5:2). We cannot buy it in a bottle. It does not ooze out of our pores. It comes out in our attitudes, actions and words.

That sweet smell affects everybody around us. So it might not be a bad idea to ask yourself, "What do I really smell like?" If you know Christ your life smells good. And you will naturally make a difference in all those around you.

I remember while preaching in Glasgow, an incident occurred which I will relate. I had been preaching there several weeks, and the night was my last one, and I pleaded with them as I had never pleaded there before. I urged the people to meet me in that land. It is a very solemn thing to stand before a vast audience for the last time and think you may never have another chance of asking them to come to Christ. I told them I would not have another opportunity, and urged them to accept, and just asked them to meet me at that marriage supper. At the conclusion I soon saw a tall young lady coming into the inquiry room. She had scarcely come in when another tall young lady came in, and she went up to the first and put her arms around her and wept. Pretty soon another young lady came and went up to the first two and just put her arms around both of them. They were three sisters and I found that although they had been sitting in different parts of the building, the sure arrow of conviction went down to their souls, and brought them to the inquiry room. Another young lady came down from the gallery and said: "Mr. Moody, I want to become a Christian." I asked a young Christian to talk to her, and when she went home that night about 10 o'clock--her mother was sitting up for her--she said: "Mother, I have accepted the invitation to be present at the marriage supper of the Lamb." Her mother and father laid awake that night talking about the salvation of their child. That was Friday night, and next day (Saturday) she was unwell, and before long her sickness developed into scarlet fever, and a few days after I got this letter:

"Mr. Moody--Dear Sir: It is now my painful duty to intimate to you that the dear girl concerning whom I wrote to you on Monday, has been taken away from us by death. Her departure, however, has been signally softened to us, for she told us yesterday she was "going home to be with Jesus," and after giving messages to many, told us to let Mr. Moody and Mr. Sankey know that she died a happy Christian."

The Romans did have an extremely modern love poet, the notorious Ovid (43 B.C.-A.D. 18). Among other things, he composed the most famous “how-to” manual in antiquity, The Art of Love. It contained numerous handy tips on how to seduce the object of your desire. It won the poet eternal fame—and near-instant exile to the Black Sea. But in addition to pragmatic advice, Ovid also wrote a massive work on the mythology of love. And here he showed touches of astute psychology—as well as a sense of what romantic love would become in future ages.

It would be useful to concentrate on the single myth which, thanks to Ovid’s account of it, gained wide popularity and has been the source of two very important modern romantic works—which we will soon discuss.

Once upon a time on the isle of Cyprus, there lived a sculptor named Pygmalion who believed no woman perfect enough to be worthy of his interest. Instead he carved a magnificent female statue out of ivory with which—because she was perfect—he fell in love. Understandably, the statue was not moved by his frantic wooing. The desperate sculptor prayed to the goddess Venus to provide him a wife similar to the image he had created. And lo and behold, when he returned home and kissed his statue hello—she responded!

In the area of love, this was one small step for mankind. For, whatever the unusual circumstances, Pygmalion did marry the woman he had created to his own specifications and whom he passionately adored.

It was not, however, much of a step for womankind, inasmuch as we note the absence of two rather important elements in the myth. To begin with, even when animated, Pygmalion’s statue is not given a name (later versions would call her Galatea). And secondly, she doesn’t speak a word. Theirs was hardly what one might call a marriage of true minds. But it was a marriage, and one based on romantic love in which the couple lived happily ever after. And perhaps most important, it provided material for millennia of writers to adapt according to their own philosophies of love.

The art of thanksgiving is thanksliving. It is gratitude in action.

It is thanking God for the gift of life by living it triumphantly.

It is thanking God for your talents and abilities by accepting them as obligations to be invested for the common good.

It is thanking God for all that men and women have done for you by doing things for others.

It is thanking God for happiness by striving to make others happy.

It is thanking God for beauty by helping to make the world more beautiful.

It is thanking God for inspiration by trying to be an inspiration to others.

It is thanking God for health and strength by the care and respect you show your body.

“Americans now spend more money at strip clubs than at Broadway, off-Broadway, regional and nonprofit theaters; at the opera, the ballet, and jazz and classical music performances combined.”

A young preacher once called upon an old atheist who was constantly arguing against the existence of God. He found him sitting in his sawmill just over the lever that lifts as the saw leaves the log. As the old man began to denounce the Deity, that lever sprang, catching him under the heels and flinging him backward and down into the stream. As he plunged, however, he shrieked as loudly as he could, "God have mercy!" The preacher ran around, waded into the water, and drew the struggling man ashore. Said the pastor, "I thought that you did not believe in a God." As soon as the atheist stopped struggling he said in a subdued voice, "Well, if there is not a God, there ought to be one, to help a man when he can't help himself!"

While studying in the Holy Lands, a seminary professor of mine met a man who claimed to have memorized the Old Testament—in Hebrew! Needless to say, the astonished professor asked for a demonstration. A few days late they sat together in the man’s home.

“Where shall we begin?” asked the man.

“Psalm 1,” replied my professor, who was an avid student of the psalms.

Beginning with Psalm 1:1, the man began to recite from memory, while my professor followed along in his Hebrew Bible. For two hours the man continued word for word without a mistake as the professor sat in stunned silence. When the demonstration was over, my professor discovered something even more astonishing about the man—he was an atheist! Here was someone who knew the Scriptures better than most Christians ever will, and yet he didn’t even believe in God.

Six months siting at stoplights

Eight months opening junk mail

One year looking for misplaced objects

2 years unsuccessfully returning phone calls

4 years doing housework

5 years waiting in line

6 years eating

Is 5’ 9” tall and 173 pounds.

Is married, 1.8 years older than his wife and would marry her again.

Has not completed college.

Earns $28,605 per year.

Prefers showering to taking a bath.

Spends about 7.2 hours a week eating.

Does not know his cholesterol count, but it’s 211.

Watches 26 hours and 44 minutes of TV a week.

Takes out the garbage in his household.

Prefers white underwear to colored.

Cries about once a month—one fourth as much as Jane Doe.

Falls in love an average of six times during his life.

Eats his corn on the cob in circles, not straight across, and prefers his steak medium.

Can’t whistle by inserting his fingers in his mouth.

Prefers that his toilet tissue unwind over, rather than under, the spool.

Has sex 2.55 times a week.

Daydreams mostly about sex.

Thinks he looks okay in the nude.

Will not stop to ask for directions when he’s in the car.

Some years ago a young man approached the foreman of a logging crew and asked for a job. “That depends,” replied the foreman. “Let’s see you fell this tree.”

The young man stepped forward and skillfully felled a great tree. Impressed, the foreman exclaimed, “Start Monday!”

Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday rolled by, and Thursday afternoon the foreman approached the young man and said, “You can pick up your paycheck on the way out today.”

Startled, he replied, “I thought you paid on Friday.”

“Normally we do,” answered the foreman, “but we’re letting you go today because you’ve fallen behind. Our daily felling charts show that you’ve dropped from first place on Monday to last on Wednesday.”

“But I’m a hard worker,” the young man objected. “I arrive first, leave last, and even have worked through my coffee breaks!”

The foreman, sensing the boy’s integrity, thought for a minute and then asked, “Have you been sharpening your ax?” The young man replied, “I’ve been working too hard to take the time.”

This story deals with a rather old fashioned lady, who was planning a couple of weeks vacation in Florida. She also was quite delicate and elegant with her language. She wrote a letter to a particular campground and asked for reservations. She wanted to make sure the campground was fully equipped but didn’t know quite how to ask about the “toilet” facilities. She just couldn’t bring herself to write the word “toilet” in her letter. After much deliberation, she finally came up with the old fashioned term “Bathroom Commode,” but when she wrote that down, she still thought she was being too forward. So she started all over again; rewrote the entire letter and referred to the “Bathroom Commode” simply as the “B.C.”. Does the campground have its own “B.C.?” is what she actually wrote.

Well, the campground owner wasn’t old fashioned at all, and when he got the letter, he couldn’t figure out what the lady was talking about. That “B.C.” really stumped him. After worrying about it for several days, he showed the letter to other campers, but they couldn’t figure out what the lady meant either. The campground owner finally came to the conclusion that the lady was and must be asking about the location of the local Baptist Church. So he sat down and wrote the following reply: “Dear Madam: I regret very much the delay in answering your letter, but I now take pleasure of informing in that the “B.C.” is located nine miles north of the camp site and is capable of seating 250 people at one time. I admit it is quite a distance away if you are in the habit of going regularly, but no doubt you will be pleased to know that a great number of people take their lunches along, and make a day of it..... They usually arrive early and stay late. The last time my wife and I went was six years ago, and it was so crowded we had to stand up the whole time we were there. It may interest you to know that right now, there is a supper planned to raise money to buy more seats.....They plan to hold the supper in the middle of the B.C., so everyone can watch and talk about this great event.....I would like to say it pains me very much, not to be able to go more regularly, but it is surely not for lack of desire on my part....As we grow older, it seems to be more and more of an effort, particularly in cold weather..... If you decide to come down to the campground, perhaps I could go with you the first time you go ... sit with you ... and introduce you to all the other folks. ... This is really a very friendly community.

On June 4, 1783 at the market square of a French village of Annonay, not far from Paris, a smoky bonfire on a raised platform was fed by wet straw and old wool rags. Tethered above, straining its lines, was a huge taffeta bag 33 feet in diameter. In the presence of “a respectable assembly and a great many other people,” and accompanied by great cheering, the balloon was cut from its moorings and set free to rise majestically into the noon sky. Six thousand feet into the air it went—the first public ascent of a balloon, the first step in the history of human flight. It came to earth several miles away in a field, where it was promptly attacked by pitchfork-waving peasants and torn to pieces as an instrument of evil!

Our Banker is God the Father.

Bank President is Jesus Christ, Son of God, our Savior and Lord.

Accountant and Teller is the Holy Spirit who, deeply concerned about our spending, lives within us as our guide and mentor.

Commitment is what transforms a promise into reality. It is the words that speak boldly of your intentions. And the actions which speak louder than words. It is making the time when there is none. Coming through time after time, year after year. Commitment is the stuff character is made of; the power to change the face of things. It is the daily triumph of integrity over skepticism.

A member of W. E. Sangster’s (1900-1960) church in Scarborough, England (the Queen St. Church) was a barber and felt it his duty to witness to his customers, but he wasn’t always careful. One day he lathered a man for a shave, picked up the razor, and asked, “Sir, are you prepared to meet your God?” The poor fellow fled with the lather still on his face.

One night two friends were camping out in the deep woods on a warm summer's night. Suddenly, their sleep was abruptly interrupted by a large furry visitor. A huge black bear began to tear through their camp, crushing supplies, throwing backpacks, and scaring the two men half to death. Thinking quickly, one of the men began to lace up his sneakers for a quick getaway. "You will never outrun that bear!" his friend yelled. To this he replied, "I don't have to outrun the bear, I just have to outrun you!"

Jesus taught us to put others first. His very actions and dealings with the beggars, the lepers, and thieves showed that He had compassion for the lowly. So the next time you have trouble with your brother remember the following:

"The world measures a man's greatness by the number who serve him. Heaven's yardstick measures a man by the number who are served by him."

Our mammas did not hesitate to bargain. Questioning a price was standard procedure. “How much are these cucumbers?” “Two for five.” The mamma pushed one aside. “And how much is this one?” “Three cents.” “Okay. I’ll take the other one.” - Sam Levenson

A child was walking along a street when a large dog came out of a yard barking. She stood terrified. Soon a stranger came by and said to her, "Come on, little girl, the dog has stopped barking." "Yes," she said, "but the bark is still on the inside." She saw in the eyes of the dog an unfriendly spirit.

Sometime ago, I received a call from a colleague who asked if I would be the referee on the grading of an examination question. He was about to give a student a zero for his answer to a physics question, while the student claimed he should receive a perfect score and would if the system were not set up against the student. The instructor and the student agreed to submit this to an impartial arbiter, and I was selected.I went to my colleague’s office and read the examination question: “Show how it is possible to determine the height of a tall building with the aid of a barometer.”

The student had answered: “Take the barometer to the top of the building, attach a long rope to it, lower the barometer to the street, and then bring it up, measuring the length of the rope. The length of the rope is the height of the building.”

I pointed out that the student really had a strong case for full credit, since he had answered the question completely and correctly. On the other hand, if full credit were given, it could well contribute to a high grade for the student in his physics class. A high grade is supposed to certify competence in physics, but the answer did not confirm this.

I suggested that the student have another try at answering the question. I was not surprised that my colleague agreed, but I was surprised that the student did. I gave the student six minutes to answer the question, with the warning that his answer should show some knowledge of physics. At the end of five minutes, he had not written anything. I asked if he wished to give up, but he said no. He had many answers to this problem; he was just thinking of the best one. I excused myself for interrupting and asked him to please go on. In the next minute, he dashed off his answer which read:

“Take the barometer to the top of the building and lean over the edge of the roof. Drop the barometer, timing its fall with a stopwatch. Then using the formula S = 1/2 at2, calculate the height of the building.”

At this point, I asked my colleague if he would give up. He conceded, and gave the student almost full credit. In leaving my colleagues’ office, I recalled that the student had said he had other answers to the problem, so I asked him what they were.

“Oh, yes,” said the student, “there are many ways of getting the height of a tall building with the aid of a barometer. For example, you could take the barometer out on a sunny day and measure the height of the barometer, the length of its shadow, and the length of the shadow of the building, and by the use of a simple proportion, determine the height of the building.”

“Fine,” I said. “And others?”

“Yes,” said the student. “There is a very basic measurement method that you will like. In this method, you take the barometer and begin to walk up the stairs. As you climb the stairs, you mark off the length of the barometer along the wall. You then count the number of marks and this will give you the height of the building in barometer units. A very direct method.

“Of course, if you want a more sophisticated method, you can tie the barometer to the end of a string, swing it as a pendulum, and determine the value of ‘g’ at the street level and at the top of the building. From the difference between the two values of ‘g’, the height of the building can, in principle, be calculated.

“Finally,” he concluded, “there are many other ways of solving the problem. Probably the best is to take the barometer to the basement and knock on the superintendent’s door. When the superintendent answers, you speak to him as follows: ‘Mr. Superintendent, here I have a fine barometer. If you will tell me the height of this building, I will give you this barometer.”

At this point, I asked the student if he really did not know the conventional answer to this question. He admitted that he did, but said that he was fed up with high school and college instructors trying to teach him how to think ... and to explore the deep inner logic of the subject in a pedantic way, as is often done in the new mathematics, rather than teaching him the structure of the subject.

The following story is told by E. Schuyler English: “A man who lived on Long Island was able one day to satisfy a lifelong ambition by purchasing for himself a very fine barometer. When the instrument arrived at his home, he as extremely disappointed to find that the indicating needle appeared to be stuck, pointing to the sector marked ‘HURRICANE.’ After shaking the barometer very vigorously several times, its new owner sat down and wrote a scorching letter to the store from which he had purchased the instrument. The following morning on the way to his office in New York, he mailed the letter. That evening he returned to Long Island to find not only the barometer missing, but his house also. The barometer’s needle had been right—there was a hurricane!” -P.R.V.

A Christian baroness, living in the highlands of Nairobi, Kenya, told of a young national who was employed as her houseboy. After three months he asked the baroness to give him a letter of reference to a friendly sheik some miles away. The baroness, not wishing the houseboy to leave just when he had learned the routine of the household, offered to increase his pay. The lad replied that he was not leaving for higher pay. Rather, he had decided he would become either a Christian or a Moslem. This was why he had come to work for the baroness for three months. He had wished to see how Christians acted. Now he wanted to work for three months for the sheik to observe the ways of the Moslems. Then he would decide which way of life he would follow. The baroness was stunned as she recalled her many blemishes in her dealings with the houseboy. She could only exclaim, “Why didn’t you tell me at the beginning!”

I passed a sand lot yesterday, Some kids were playing ball.

I strolled along the third base line

Within the fielder’s call.

“Say, what’s the score?” I asked.

He yelled to beat the stuffing,

“There’s no one out, the bases full,

They’re winning forty-two to nothing!”

“You’re getting beat, aren’t you my friend?”

And then in no time flat

He answered, “No, sir, not as yet!

Our side hasn’t been up to bat!”

Aesop, probably the most renowned writer of myths, speaks in one of his fables about a time when the beasts and the fowls were engaged in war. The bat tried to belong to both parties. When the birds were victorious, he would wing around telling everyone that he was a bird; when the beasts won a fight, he would walk around assuring everyone that he was a beast. Soon his hypocrisy was discovered, and he was rejected by both the beasts and the birds. He had to hide himself, and now he can appear openly, only by night. You cannot hold on to the world with one hand and to the Lord with the other. If you do, you will enjoy neither the world nor the Lord. A house divided against itself cannot stand, was the verdict of the Master (Mar 2:25).

I know how hard the battle is between the flesh and the spirit under the heavy cross of affliction, when no worldly defense but present death doth appear. I know the grudging and murmuring complaints of the flesh, I know the anger, wrath and indignation it conceiveth against God, calling all His promises in doubt, and being ready every hour utterly to fall from God against which rests only faith, provoking us to call earnestly, and pray for assistance of God’s Spirit, wherein, if we continue, our most desperate calamities shall He turn to gladness and a prosperous end.

Though the world has largely forgotten it, July 1 is the anniversary of one of the worst military catastrophes in human history. It is called the Battle of the Somme, and it took place in France during the First World War.

On that day the Allied commander, General Douglas Haig, foolishly ordered more than 100,000 men to charge across “no man’s land” just after dawn. The German army knew that an attack was coming, and they crisscrossed the battlefield with machine-gun fire, systematically mowing down the heavily laden troops. It was the bloodiest day in British history, with nearly twenty thousand men killed and thirty-five thousand wounded. The French and German troops suffered comparable casualties.

The tragedy of the Somme was its utter waste of human lives. The battle continued for 140 days and soon involved some 3 million men. More than a third of them became casualties before it was over. And for what? The Allies never drove the Germans back more than seven miles at any point, and even that ground was lost in 1918.

Oh, I know this all happened long ago and far away. What does it matter today? But somehow it seems fitting for us to pause for a moment to remember the sacrifice of the men who died and the 4 million family members whose beloved husbands, sons, and fathers never returned. It all began at dawn on July 1, 1916.

There was a conversation between the great artists Renoir and Matisse. At the time, Matisse was Renoir's young student. Renoir suffered from terrible arthritis. It was very painful for him to paint. He had to hold his brush between his thumb and index finger. And as he painted, students often heard him crying out in pain. On one such occasion, Matisse asked the old master, "Why do you go on if it hurts so much?" And Renoir answered, "The pain passes, but the beauty remains."

Many years ago, as the story is told, a devout king was disturbed by the ingratitude of his royal court. He prepared a large banquet for them. When the king and his royal guests were seated, by prearrangement, a beggar shuffled into the hall, sat down at the king’s table, and gorged himself with food. Without saying a word, he then left the room. The guests were furious and asked permission to seize the tramp and tear him limb from limb for his ingratitude. The king replied, “That beggar has done only once to an earthly king what each of you does three times each day to God. You sit there at the table and eat until you are satisfied. Then you walk away without recognizing God, or expressing one word of thanks to Him.”

1. An encouraging hope. John 14:3 Spoken to discouraged disciples. Discouraged by Christ’s departure, encouraged by His return.

2. A comforting hope. 1 Thess. 4:13-18

3. A motivating hope. 1 Cor. 15:50-58 Knowing that resurrection body will be obtained through death or translation, tat labor isn’t fruitless, be steadfast in commitment to Christ and diligent in service for Christ. (v. 58)

4. A purifying hope. 1 John 3:2-3

The effect it should have on us.

1. Be careful 1 John 3:1-2 Purity

2. Be considerate Phil. 4:1-5

3. Be comforted 1 Thess. 4:13-18

4. Be cheered Phil. 3:21 Transformation of our bodies, we’ll be changed.

5. Be concerned for the lost.

The 200-year-old church was being readied for an anniversary celebration when calamity struck: the bell ringer was called out of town. The sexton immediately advertised for another.

When the replacement arrived, the sexton took him to the steps leading to the bell tower, some 150 feet above them. Round and round they went, huffing and puffing all the way. Just as they reached the landing, the bell ringer tripped and fell face-first into the biggest bell of all. Bo-o-o-o-ong!

Dazed by the blow, the bell ringer stumbled backward onto the landing. The railing broke loose and he fell to the ground. Miraculously, he was unhurt—only stunned—but the sexton thought it best to call an ambulance.

“Do you know this man’s name?” asked the doctor when he arrived.

“No,” the sexton replied, “but his face sure rings a bell.”

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!

"I'll never forgive him. I told him I would never forgive him." The attractive elderly lady spoke softly, but with resolve, to the night nurse. Her expression was troubled as she turned away, focusing her eyes on the drape closing in her nursing home bed. The conversation had traveled from the temporal to the eternal and now a deep hurt had surfaced.

She told of how her brother had approached her hospital bed, accusing her of taking more than her share of family heirlooms following their mother's death. He spoke of various items, ending with "the berry spoon." He said, "I want the berry spoon." For the 40 years since the parent's death he had hidden his feelings, and now they erupted. She was both hurt and angered by his accusation and vowed never to forgive him. "It's my spoon. It was given to me," she defended herself. "He's wrong and I won't forgive him."

A berry spoon. In the bed lay a woman given two months to live-60 days-and she would face eternity and never see her brother again in this life. Her mind and spirit were in anguish, and her only remaining family tie was broken over a spoon.

How many berry spoons are there in our lives? How many things, as insignificant as a spoon, in light of eternity, separate us from full communion with God? How much lack of forgiveness keeps us from fellowship with others?

"For if you forgive men when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if you do not forgive men their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins" (Mat 6:14-15).

Man finds it hard to get what he wants, because he does not want the best; God finds it hard to give because He would give the best, and man will not take it.

A beautiful blond senior shares: “When we date, we start giving gifts, like flowers or candy. When a couple becomes engaged, they give special things—a diamond and very personal things. The most personal gift that I can ever give is myself. I have nothing more precious to give. When I marry, I want to give my husband the best that I have—my whole self as completely as I can.”

Will Rogers was many things—cowboy, part Cherokee Indian, entertainer and tart observer of the American scene. From December 1922 until his death in August 1935, he wrote a column about anything that caught his interest. Although the following comments on government, politics and the state of the nation were made half a century or so ago, they are as timely as today’s newspaper. Some things never change.

As we gather 'round our firesides

On this new Thanksgiving Day,

Time would fail to count the blessings

That have followed all our way;

Grace sufficient, help and healing,

Prayer oft answered at our call;

And the best of all our blessings,

Christ Himself, our all in all.

While we love to "count the blessings,"

Grateful for the year that's gone,

Faith would sweep a wider vision,

Hope would gaze yet further on.

For the signals all around us

Seem with one accord to say,

"Christ is coming soon to bring us

Earth's last, best Thanksgiving Day!"

An old farmer had plowed around a large rock in one of his fields for years. He had broken several plowshares and a cultivator on it. After breaking another plowshare one fall, and remembering all the trouble the rock had caused him through the years, he finally determined to do something about it. When he put his crowbar under the rock, he was surprised to discover that it was only about six inches thick and that he could break it up easily.

As he was carting it away he had to smile, remembering all the trouble that the rock had caused him and how easy it would have been to get rid of it sooner. There is often a temptation to bypass small obstacles when we’re in a hurry to get a large problem solved. We simply don’t want to stop and take the time to deal with it now. Like the old farmer, we “plow” around it.

Usually we tell ourselves that we’ll come back to it later. What often happens is that we never do. If the obstacle is of a type that will keep reappearing over and over, we’re usually better off to take the time to fix it and be done with it. If we are tempted to go round it time and time again, we had best stop and ask ourselves if the cost in time and money and trouble is worth it. As someone once said, “The best way out of a problem is through it.”

The scriptures are, quite simply, the Bible which consists of 39 books in the Old Testament and 27 in the New Testament. Each one is inspired, without error, and is completely accurate in all things it addresses. The entire Bible, though written by many people over thousands of years is totally in harmony in all its teachings. This is because each book of the Bible is inspired.

Anonymous

What is called a high standard of living consists, in considerable measure, in arrangements for avoiding muscular energy, for increasing sensual pleasure and enhancing caloric intake above any conceivable nutritional requirement.

Far away from the Bible’s example are most people when they pray! Prayer with earnestness and urgency is genuine prayer in God’s account. Alas, the greatest number of people are not conscious at all of the duty of prayer. And as for those who are, it is to be feared that many of them are very great strangers to sincere, sensible, and affectionate— emotional—pouring out of their hearts or souls to God. Too many content themselves with a little lip-service and bodily exercise, mumbling over a few imaginary prayers. When the emotions are involved in such urgency that the soul will waste itself rather than go without the good desired, there is communion and solace with Christ. And hence it is that the saints have spent their strength, and lost their lives, rather than go without the blessings God intended for them.

The great soul prays, "Lord, make me as big as my problem." The little soul prays, "Lord, let me off easy."

The giant soul asks, "Lord, give me strength sufficient for a hard day," while the small soul begs, "Lord, let me have a lighter load."

The busy soul prays, "Lord, stand with me until I finish my task," while the weak soul says, "I got tired and quit."

IN December 1903, after many attempts, the Wright brothers were successful in getting their “flying machine” off the ground. Thrilled, they telegraphed this message to their sister Katherine: “We have actually flown 120 feet. Will be home for Christmas.” Katherine hurried to the editor of the local newspaper and showed him the message. He glanced at it and said, “How nice. The boys will be home for Christmas.” He totally missed the big news—man had flown!

A while back I was reading about an expert on the subject of time management. One day this expert was speaking to a group of business students and to drive home a point, used an illustration I’m sure those students will never forget. After I share it with you, you’ll never forget it either.

As this man stood in front of the group of high-powered overachievers, he said, “Okay, time for a quiz.” Then he pulled out a one-gallon, wide mouthed Mason jar and set it on a table in front of him. Then he produced about a dozen fist-sized rocks and carefully placed them, one at a time, into the jar. When the jar was filled to the top and no more rocks would fit inside, he asked, “Is this jar full?” Everyone in the class said, “Yes.”

Then he said, “Really?” He reached under the table and pulled out a bucket of gravel. Then he dumped some gravel in and shook the jar causing pieces of gravel to work themselves down into the spaces between the big rocks.

Then he smiled and asked the group once more, “Is the jar full?” By this time the class was on to him. “Probably not,” one of them said.

“Good!” he replied. And he reached under the table and brought out a bucket of sand. He started dumping the sand in and it went into all the spaces left between the rocks and the gravel. Once more he asked the question, “Is this jar full?” “No!” the class shouted. Once again he said, “Good!” Then he grabbed a pitcher of water and began to pour it in until the jar was filled to the brim.

Then he looked up at the class and asked, “What is the point of this illustration?”

One eager beaver raised his hand and said, “The point is, no matter how full your schedule is, if you try really hard, you can always fit some more things into it!”

“No,” the speaker replied, “that’s not the point. The truth this illustration teaches us is: If you don’t put the big rocks in first, you’ll never get them in at all.”

What are the big rocks of your life?

To commune with the Father when you awake.

To spend time reading His Word that we may observe to do all that is written in it.

To give and surrender ourselves daily to the Lord as our reasonable service.

Acknowledging Him in all of our ways and refusing to lean to our own strength and understanding, this guarantees is that He will make plain our paths.

Remember to put these BIG ROCKS in first or you’ll never get them in at all.

I was speaking at an open-air crusade in Halifax, Nova Scotia. Billy Graham was to speak the next night and had arrived a day early. He came incognito and sat on the grass at the rear of the crowd. Because he was wearing a hat and dark glasses, no one recognized him.

Directly in front of him sat an elderly gentleman who seemed to be listening intently to my presentation. When I invited people to come forward as an open sign of commitment, Billy decided to do a little personal evangelism. He tapped the man on the shoulder and asked, “Would you like to accept Christ? I’ll be glad to walk down with you if you want to.” The old man looked him up and down, thought it over for a moment, and then said, “Naw, I think I’ll just wait till the big gun comes tomorrow night.”

Billy and I have had several good chuckles over that incident. Unfortunately, it underlines how, in the minds of many people, evangelism is the task of the “Big Guns,” not the “little shots.”

It was absolutely amazing. I was in West Africa—Timbuktu to be exact—and the missionaries were telling me that in that culture the larger the women were the more beautiful they were thought to be. In fact, a young missionary who had a small, trim wife said that the nationals had told him she was a bad reflection on him—he obviously was not providing well enough for her. A proverb in that part of Africa says that if your wife is on a camel and the camel cannot stand up, your wife is truly beautiful.

Verbal—what I say 7%

Vocal—how I say it 38%

Visual—how I look, act, etc. 55%

After his victory over Antony at Actuim, Augustus Caesar came back to Rome in triumph. Among the huge crowd who greeted him was a man who had a bird that he had taught to say, “Hail, Caesar victorious!” Caesar was impressed and bought the bird for a large sum. Then someone got Caesar aside and whispered to him that the man had another bird that was just as talented. The man was summoned and Caesar asked for a demonstration of what the other bird could do. The man demurred, but Caesar insisted.

When the bird was produced it said, “Hail, Antony victorious!”

A “do it yourself” catalog firm received the following letter from one of its customers: “I built a birdhouse according to your stupid plans, and not only is it much too big, it keeps blowing out of the tree. Signed, Unhappy.

The firm replied: “Dear Unhappy, We’re sorry about the mix-up. We accidentally sent you a sailboat blueprint. But if you think you are unhappy, you should read the letter from the guy who came in last in the yacht club regatta.”

A rich man was determined to give his mother a birthday present that would outshine all others. He read of a bird that had a vocabulary of 4000 words, could speak in numerous languages and sing 3 operatic arias. He immediately bought the bird for $50,000 and had it delivered to his mother. The next day he phoned to see if she had received the bird. “What did you think of the bird?” he asked. She replied, “It was delicious.”

An artist once drew a picture of a wintry twilight, the trees heavily laden with snow, and a dreary dark house, lonely and desolate, in the midst of the storm. It was a sad picture indeed. Then, with a quick stroke of yellow crayon, he put a light in one window. The effect was magical. The entire scene was transformed into a vision of comfort and good cheer. The birth of Christ was just such a light in a dark world.

Remember the words of John William Hart: "In Him was life; and the life was the light of men." That Light is more than enough to lend comfort and direction to your life!

When you are in the process of humbling yourself, the Lord will load you with blessings. God wants you to be like the stalk of wheat that is full of beautiful grains. The more it is loaded the lower it stoops down. Thus, my dear friend, your real riches will be manifested by your humility.

Dedication (I Sam 1:11),

Protection (Ex. 2:3),

Training (II Tim. 1:5),

Prayers (Genesis 21:16-8),

Love (I Kings 3:26),

Triumph (Matthew 15:25-8).

There are loved ones who are missing

From the fireside and the feast;

There are faces that have vanished,

There are voices that have ceased;

But we know they passed forever

From our mortal grief and pain,

And we thank Thee, O our Father,

For the blessings that remain.

Thanksgiving, oh, thanksgiving

That their love once blessed us here,

That so long they walked beside us

Sharing every smile and tear;

For the joy the past has brought us

But can never take away.

For the sweet and gracious memories

Growing dearer every day,

For the faith that keeps us patient

Looking at the things unseen,

Knowing Spring shall follow Winter

And the earth again be green,

For the hope of that glad meeting

Far from mortal grief and pain—

We thank Thee, O our Father—

For the blessings that remain.

For the love that still is left us,

For the friends who hold us dear,

For the lives that yet may need us

For their guidance and their cheer,

For the work that waits our doing,

For the help we can bestow,

For the care that watches o’er us

Wheresoe’er our steps may go,

For the simple joys of living,

For the sunshine and the breeze,

For the beauty of the flowers

And the laden orchard trees,

For the night and for the starlight,

For the rainbow and the rain—

Thanksgiving, O our Father,

For the blessings that remain.

Shelley could write of the exquisite beauty of nature and yet was blind to its Source. He had often visited the Alps and exulted in their breath-taking majesty. Yet when he signed the guest book at the inn he added "atheist" after his name. The next visitor looked at it and added, "If an atheist then a fool; if not a fool then a liar."

A blind man was discovered sitting at the corner of a city street with a lantern beside him. When he was asked why the lantern was there since light and darkness were the same to him, he replied, "I have it so that no one may stumble over me."

What a message for Christians who have the light!

During the terrible days of the Blitz, a father, holding his small son by the hand, ran from a building that had been struck by a bomb. In the front yard was a shell hole. Seeking shelter as quickly as possible, the father jumped into the hole and held up his arms for his son to follow.

Terrified, yet hearing his father’s voice telling him to jump, the boy replied, “I can’t see you!”

The father, looking up against the sky tinted red by the burning buildings, called to the silhouette of his son, “But I can see you. Jump!”

The boy jumped, because he trusted his father.

The Christian faith enables us to face life or meet death, not because we can see, but with the certainty that we are seen; not that we know all the answers, but that we are known.

- Donner Atwood

A number of years ago, a farmer in Louisiana plowed up some large bones. On reporting his find, a little "two by four" scientist drove out to the farm and pronounced the bones as that of the missing link. Scientists of all kinds began flocking in to that section of the state. Each declared that this undoubtedly linked man back to the lower animals. The newspapers carried this story far and wide.

A few days later an old countryman with a blade of alfalfa dropping out of one corner of his mouth stopped in at the office of the newspaper and said, "What's all this I hear about this prehistoric monster? About 30 years ago I owned that farm where those bones were found. Barnum & Bailey's big circus elephant died when they showed here in town and I permitted them to bury him on my land." And thus the missing link is still missing, the lower animals still produce lower animals, and all forms of life still beget life after their own kind, and we still believe that Jesus Christ is the Creator of this universe and all things therein.

Rule #1: The Boss is always right.

Rule #2: When the Boss is wrong, refer to rule #1.

A noted brain surgeon, Dr. Bronson Ray, was taking a stroll when he saw a boy on a scooter smash headfirst into a tree. Realizing that the boy was seriously injured, the doctor told a bystander to call an ambulance. As he proceeded to administer first aid, a boy not much older than the injured one nudged through the crowd that had gathered and said to Dr. Ray, “I’d better take over now, sir. I’m a Boy Scout and I know first aid,”

Antonio was an Italian boy who loved music, but whenever he tried to sing the music that was in his heart, it came out so badly that all his friends laughed at him. Next to singing, the boy loved to hear the violin. He had a pocketknife he always carried with him and he would whittle all sorts of things with it. One day Antonio learned that the greatest violin maker in all Italy, the great Nicolo Amati, lived in his village! Antonio began to whittle a violin and worked for many hours on it. When finished, the boy walked to the house of Amati, who just happened to answer the door. The boy handed the master the small violin he had carved and said, “Sir—I love music, but cannot sing. I wish with all my heart I could learn to make violins.”

The great Amati smiled, looked at the small gift and said, “Beautifully done! You want to make violins? And so you shall! In time your violins will make the most beautiful music ever heard!” And so, Antonio Stradivari became the pupil of Nicolo Amati and in time made violins that equaled his master’s.

A wealthy woman who was traveling overseas saw a bracelet she thought was irresistible, so she sent her husband this cable: “Have found wonderful bracelet. Price $75,000. May I buy it?”

Her husband promptly wired back this response: “No, price too high.”

But the cable operator omitted the comma, so the woman received this message: “No price too high.” Elated, she purchased the bracelet. Needless to say, at her return her husband was dismayed. It was just a little thing—a comma—but what a difference it made!

Dr. J.B. Gambrel tells an amusing story from General Stonewall Jackson’s famous valley campaign. Jackson’s army found itself on one side of a river when it needed to be on the other side.

After telling his engineers to plan and build a bridge so the army could cross, he called his wagon master in to tell him that it was urgent the wagon train cross the river as soon as possible. The wagon master started gathering all the logs, rocks and fence rails he could find and built a bridge. Long before day light General Jackson was told by his wagon master all the wagons and artillery had crossed the river. General Jackson asked where are the engineers and what are they doing? The wagon master’s only reply was that they were in their tent drawing up plans for a bridge.

In the fall of the year during an icy storm a bridge collapsed. Cars continued to travel toward the bridge and plunged into the icy river below. One man went over, climbed out of the car, and then stood on the highway trying to stop others from plunging over. But car after car drove on by him, unaware of the danger ahead. He would shout and wave “The bridge is out, the bridge is out.” But none stopped. Finally he took off his jacket, stood in the middle of the highway and refused to move, waving his jacket. The angry driver shouted, “What do you think you are doing on a night like this!” He replied, “The bridge is out.” The driver turned his car sideways in the road, and they were able to stop others from sudden destruction as well.

Across the River Zambesi, below the Victoria Falls, is a bridge which spans the widest chasm and overlooks the most terrific turmoil of waters to be seen on any river in the world. That bridge was made by building out an arm from either shore and uniting the two outstretched arms in the center above the roaring stream. Neither arm could have reached the opposite bank by itself; the two were needed to meet each other. Such are repentance and pardon which form the bridge across that tumultuous stream and those stupendous falls which separate the soul from God. At first one is inclined to say, "Why cannot the bridge of pardon be thrown over exclusively from God's side?" Perhaps others are tempted to say, "Surely the bridge of repentance will span the chasm and bring the soul to the unregarding God." But no, the truth lies here: pardon without repentance is impossible, and repentance without pardon is useless. When repentance and pardon meet, the soul is joined with God.

Last winter, a lowly-paid waiter in a major city found a briefcase containing cash and negotiables in a parking lot—and no owner in sight. No one saw the waiter find it and put it in his car in the wee hours of the morning. But for the waiter, there was never any question of what to do. He took the briefcase home, opened it, and searched for the owner’s identity. The next day he made a few phone calls, located the distressed owner, and returned the briefcase—along with the $25,000 cash it contained!

The surprising thing about this episode was the ridicule the waiter experienced at the hands of his friends and peers. For the next week or so he was called a variety of names and laughed at, all because he possessed a quality the Bible holds in high regard: integrity.