I came across this story recently and even though it’s from times past the principle is still good for today.
The Rev. H. Merriweather, a missionary of the Sri Lanka and India General Mission, was visiting the United States, and the head office of the mission asked him to call upon a certain woman who supported a full-time missionary. On arrival in the city, he made his way to her address, and was somewhat surprised by the ordinary type of home found there. He had expected to find a wealthy suburb with pretentious buildings. This woman supported a full-time missionary, and it was natural to assume that she was a lady of means. Had he made a mistake? He knocked at the door, and was greeted by a motherly old lady who beamed upon him. Even as the missionary introduced himself, his eyes were examining the room. The furniture was spotlessly clean, and yet it could hardly be described someone of means. This was the abode of an ordinary working woman. Ultimately his curiosity gained the upper hand, and he asked how could she—a woman with meagre means—manage to give so much money to the mission? Mutely he indicated the mediocre furnishings of the apartment, and his eloquent silence suggested that the task was beyond her capabilities. The old lady was greatly amused as she said, “But Mr. Merriweather, I support four missionaries. I have one in India, one in Africa, one in China, and one in South America.” Mr. Merriweather was shocked. “You have four people preaching for you? How on earth do you manage?” Her lovely old face became grave; only her eyes smiled as she explained how she had always believed in giving one-tenth of her income to God. Then God had blessed her, and someone had bequeathed some property to her, which greatly increased her income, and consequently her “Lord’s Fund” became larger. “Come over to the window, Mr. Merriweather, and I will show you my houses.” She indicated a row of magnificent houses, and said, “What does an old lady like me want with such big houses? I have all I require in this little home, and the rent from those places supports my missionaries. I knew I would never be able to preach the gospel overseas, so I determined others should do it for me.” Mr. Merriweather concluded: “Someday at the Judgment Seat of Christ, Merriweather the missionary will stand beside this kind helper from America, and I am quite sure her reward will far outshine mine. She knew how to give cheerfully. And the Lord, who loves a cheerful giver, blessed her.”
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I was thinking back about events over the past years. One such event happened during COVID which had created serious conditions for thousands of families who live in informal settlements in Kenya and rely on day-labor jobs. Along with the fear of contracting the virus, many people also had to deal with the very real threats of hunger and even starvation. To make matters worse, an unusually large seasonal rainfall brought on flash floods in many regions of the country, causing landslides and loss of lives and homes, and bringing waterborne disease.
I received a call from a friend who shared a story she had seen on television of a widow with four small children who live in a rural coastal village. The children were lying on a straw mat whimpering, while the mother was busy cooking a brown watery brew on a tiny charcoal stove. She turned to the camera, saying that she was cooking stones since they had nothing to eat that day. She hoped that her children would think that she was preparing dinner and that they would stop crying and go to sleep while waiting. That night, sleep evaded my friend as images of the poor mother cooking stones for her starving children kept scrolling through her mind. The next morning, she commissioned her lawyer to find the location of this poor woman. He did find her, and my friend sent some money via M-Pesa (a local mobile phone- based money transfer service) to help this poor family. The woman called my friend, crying and thanking her profusely, saying over and over that God had heard her prayers and had rescued her children through my friend’s gift. So many people seem to still have serious challenges. However, just as God answered the plea of this poor mother, we too can have the confidence that He will answer our petitions. “This is the confidence that we have in Him, that if we ask anything according to His will, He hears us: And if we know that He hears us, whatever we ask, we know that we have the petitions that we desire of Him.” And He may work through us to answer someone else’s prayer, as He did with my friend. During challenging times, we encounter desperation almost daily around the globe, often simply around the corner. Some people are in need of a meal, others of a kind word. What a difference we can make as followers of Christ by sharing His love with those in need! -- Iris Richard Have you ever had one of those days where it seemed like the world was against you, and where it looked like everything that could go wrong went wrong? It was February 29, that unusual day that only comes once every four years. Looking at a list of things that had fallen on my schedule for that day, it seemed as though the day had been waiting—no, more like scheming—for the past four years to ensure that it would fit four days’ worth of tasks into 24 hours!
First of all, an unexpected exam was scheduled that afternoon, when I already had four kids to teach all day. (Why is it that exams never seem to fall on the right day?) I needed to arrange for someone to fill in for me so that I could make it downtown to take the exam. I had also been having sinus problems and had a severe headache that day, which made moving around hard, let alone thinking! That same evening—if I survived the rest of the day—I was scheduled to attend a choir rehearsal at a church downtown, as in just two days our choir was going to be performing to open the International Choral Festival, a big event in Ireland. I needed to finish learning two Polish songs, as well as verses in Latin, English, and Italian, all before that evening! I was on the verge of tears and escaped to my bedroom for a moment to gather my thoughts. My husband came in and saw my state. He offered to pray for me, and I, of course, didn’t turn him down. As I listened to his prayer, he said something that caught my attention: “Lord, help her to find peace and know that You will work it all out for good.” Peace. How can I find peace? I wondered to myself. I knew I couldn’t find that peace myself and that I needed to pray to give all that was on my heart and mind to God. I began my prayer by stating how frustrated I felt, how the aches and the pains were getting to me, how the unknown of that day was really a bother. I spelled out every aspect of that day that I could in that prayer. I went to great lengths to explain to God how I needed peace and surcease from the struggle. I asked Him to give me some sign that He would help me, as at that moment I didn’t know how I was even going to be able to drive all the way downtown in the state I was in. A Bible passage suddenly came to mind: “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.” (John 14:27 TNIV.) I wondered how that was going to help me work out my day, but I decided to ask Jesus to give me that peace that He promised, even though at the moment I still felt frustrated and uncertain. I didn’t have a lot of time to sit and meditate on just how that peace was going to come to me, but it couldn’t have taken more than five minutes for me to make the connection, and when I did, it was like a clear and clean path had been made for me through a mucky and muddy road. I said this aloud, to make sure I was making some sense. “If Jesus said He was going to ‘leave us peace,’ it must have been the spirit of peace, which is also a fruit of the Holy Spirit.” As I started to think more about that, all of a sudden, I was no longer frustrated about everything that was previously burdening me. I felt “lighter.” The peace that I was contemplating just filled my mind and spirit, and the feeling was alleviating, almost like “walking on air.” The pressure that had been causing so much strain diminished and I felt calm. My mind was clear. I don’t know how it happened. All I had done was pray and cast all my burdens on the Lord and take a few minutes to meditate on His peace as expressed in that verse, and that simple act took me to a whole new thought process. I was amazed at the power of God as I started getting ready to head out the door. Once I was in the car, I prayed that God would help His peace to stay with me, because it felt so good! I remember thinking, “I am not panicking anymore. I am not on the verge of tears anymore. This is so cool!” And here is how the rest of the day played out, which once again reminded me of how God does not let us down. If He has promised in His Word to make something right, and we claim that promise, He will deliver! I got downtown and was able to find a parking space easily. Even though it was a gloomy day, it wasn’t raining, which is great for Ireland. I was happy to find out, as the exam started, that I knew most of the answers. I finished the exam and then hitched a ride with a friend to our choir rehearsal downtown. Another piece of good news! The rehearsal went well, and for those three hours my head was only hurting rather than throbbing, which made it easier to contend with. It was nearly midnight by the time I got back home and headed for bed. My husband had waited up for me, and I thanked him for praying for me. I also thanked God for helping me to find His peace that amazingly made my chaotic day turn out all right—and everything was all right! Jesus had worked it out. The next day, I read up on the fruits of the Holy Spirit. I wanted to know the definition the Bible gave to the word “peace.” The Old Testament meaning of peace was “completeness, soundness, and the well-being of the total person.” In the New Testament, peace often refers to inner tranquility, a combination of hope, trust, and quiet in the mind and soul. I was amazed when I realized that was exactly how I had felt the previous day! Peace is really faith, trusting that God will work everything out—somehow. As His Word says, “Cast your burden on the LORD, and he will sustain you. … Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you.” (Psalm 55:22; 1 Peter 5:7 NIV.) If you find yourself having “one of those days”—and hopefully it won’t come more often than every leap year or so—just pray and ask God to give you His peace, and then let Him lead and guide you. You will be amazed at the peace He will give you and how He will strengthen you and help you. The Bible says, “Then you will experience God’s peace, which exceeds anything we can understand. His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 4:7 NLT) -- By Michele Roys We all go through experiences in life that leave us with scars, and whether the scars are physical or emotional, we often try to hide them out of fear of what others might think if they were to see them. These scars could be anything about ourselves that we may feel ashamed of and try to hide—such as buried hurts from the past, inner struggles we face, physical traits we aren’t proud of, etc. Throughout my life I have come to learn that there is great freedom in being open about our scars rather than hiding them.
I recently heard a short, moving story that clearly shows how valuable certain scars can be, because of the reminders they carry. It tells of a boy who was attacked by a crocodile while swimming in a pond near his home. He screamed loudly as the creature grabbed him by the legs, and his mother, hearing the screams from inside the house, came running out and grabbed his arms. She held on with all her might, digging her nails into his flesh, until a neighbor who also heard the screams hurried over with his pistol and shot the crocodile. While the boy was in recovery, a newspaper reporter came to see him and asked him if he’d show him the scars on his legs where the crocodile had bitten him. He rolled up his pants legs, then he said, “But these are the scars you need to see,” as he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and revealed his mother’s fingernail marks on his arms where she had grabbed him. “I have these,” he said, “because my mother never let go of me.” Jesus also had scars. Even after His miraculous resurrection, He still had nail marks on His hands and a hole in His side where He had been pierced. Though He was able to make them go away, He not only chose to keep them, He willingly showed them to His followers to prove to them that He had indeed resurrected, just as He had promised He would. So if Jesus wasn’t ashamed of His scars, why should we be ashamed of ours? When we choose to let our scars show rather than hide them, God’s light and love can shine through them, causing an indelible impact on the lives of others for His glory. “Let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven.” -- Steve Hearts “Miserable!” That was the only way to describe how I was feeling that day. My husband had had to travel—again!—And there I was alone with our four children. Finances were low, my health was bad, and my teenage daughter was going through a crisis. I prayed—oh, how I prayed—that Jesus would make things a little easier to bear!
Looking out my window at a grove of trees swaying in the gentle breeze, I recalled other times when Jesus had encouraged me to hold on until He could work things out. That’s when I noticed a little squirrel, squeaking away as he climbed up and down the trees, seemingly without a care in the world. I envied the little fellow. My squirrel chose that moment to change tactics. Instead of running up and down the trees, he started hopping from one tree to the next. He jumped over to the last tree in the cluster, and then looked at one more tree that stood apart from the others. He seemed to be deliberating. I mentally measured the distance between the squirrel and that tree, and it seemed two or three times as far as he had been jumping. Here was a massive challenge. “You can’t be serious, little fellow!” I muttered. But he wasn’t looking for my advice. He ran the length of the branch a few times, squealing frantically. Then he stopped and eyed the distance once more, crouched, and leaped. I wanted to turn my eyes away. Surely this was going to end badly! But no! He flew across that immense span and landed in the other tree with the grace and glory that come from knowing one is meant to perform such feats. He chattered in victory and scampered farther up the tree, as if to his reward. I knew then what had been missing. I had been so busy looking at my problems—measuring the distance between the trees—that I was afraid to let go and sail to the other side. I had lost sight of my Maker, my Savior, my Best Friend’s care for me. As I watched the squirrel, now merrily chattering away in the treetop, I knew that Jesus had answered my prayer—not through a spectacular miracle, but rather the example of a happy little squirrel. The same God who took care of him was going to take care of me. -- By Jo Dias
It spoke to me so deeply that I committed it to memory (a real challenge to keep it all straight), and every time I’ve reviewed it, new applications have come to mind. For example, a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing can be when someone I love is far away, or it can be the situation I’m in at the time of writing this, when we show love by upholding social distancing. After the tsunami and earthquake crisis of 2010 in Chile, we befriended many families that ended up spending three hard, rainy, cold, muddy winters in flimsy temporary housing. It seemed like an eternity. During those years, they experienced intensely a time to break down and a time to build up, a time to get and a time to lose, a time to keep and a time to cast away. Then, the day came when the last temporary camps finally closed, and every family had their own home or apartment. It was a time to laugh and a time to dance. And life has gone on. Ten years have passed since the night of the earthquake and tsunami. The memory, the experiences, the times of weeping and mourning and the times of laughing and dancing are all part of that season. Each family can look back from the vantage point of having dealt with monumental challenges and having come through victorious. I spent many seasons as a missionary living in community, as a teacher, as a hospital clown, and as a relief volunteer. I also experienced times of weeping and times of laughing. Now, looking back, each season holds treasured memories that I would not change for the world. I thought of more seasons the other day:
My husband and I are in the midst of a tranquil season. Though we are officially “senior citizens,” we are enjoying good health and mental faculties. We’re still active physically, yet we’re fortunate enough to be able to slow down a bit and go at our own pace. I spend more time reading, studying, and writing about things that deeply interest me. We have a network of like-minded friends and people who we minister to spiritually. Most gratefully, we are still able to share God’s message with others. I think most of us regard what will be the last stage of life with a bit of trepidation. The “what if ” looms over our heads. Yet, by now we’ve learned that through each season He is with us. The High and Lofty One Who inhabits eternity, whose name is Holy also dwells with us here and now; and He has made everything beautiful in its time. -- By Sally García "Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day." 2 Corinthians 4:16
Paul's teaching has an application to those who are growing old. He was an old man when he wrote these triumphant words. As a missionary he had traveled over many lands to carry the gospel to lost men. He had been exposed to storms, illnesses and fierce persecutions. He had suffered all manner of hardships, and was a broken man, physically. The 'old house' he had lived in so long—was battered and shattered. But while his body was thus worn out—the outward man decaying—his inward man was strong, undecaying, triumphant! The problem of Christian old age—is to keep the heart young and full of hope and of all youth's gladness, however feeble and broken the body may become. We need to be most watchful, however, lest we allow our life to lose its zest and deteriorate in its quality, when old age begins to creep in. The best, then, seems behind us—and there is less to draw us on. Hopes of achievement appear to be ended for us—our work is almost done, we think. Sometimes people, as they grow old, become less sweet and less beautiful in spirit. Troubles, disasters and misfortunes, have made the days hard and painful for them. Perhaps health is broken, and suffering is added to the other elements that make the old age unhappy. With many, their life of youthful hopes, dreams, successes, loves and joys—has been sunk out of sight, submerged in misfortunes and adversities, and has vanished altogether. Nothing remains of it all, but a memory. Their hearts have grown hopeless and bitter. But this is not worthy living—for those who are immortal, who are true children of God. These hard things are not meant to mar our life—they are meant to make us all the braver, the worthier, the nobler! It is not meant that the infirmities of old age shall break through into our inner life. Our hearts should grow all the more beautiful, the more the outer life is broken. The shattering of the old mortal tent, should reveal more and more of the glory of the divine life that dwells within! Do you ever think, you who are growing old—that old age ought really to be the very best of life? We are too apt to settle down to the feeling that in our infirmities, we cannot any longer live beautifully, worthily, usefully or actively. But this is not the true way to think of old age. We should reach our best then, in every way. Old age should be the best—the very best, of all life! It should be the most beautiful, with the flaws mended, the faults cured, the mistakes corrected, the lessons all well learned. Youth is full of immaturity, mid-life is full of toil and care, strife and ambition. Old age should be as the autumn, with its golden fruit. When we grow old—we ought to be better Christians than ever we have been before—more submissive to God's will, more content, more patient and gentler, kindlier and more loving! We are drawing nearer to heaven every day, and our visions of the Father's house should be clearer and brighter. Old age should always be the best of life in its harvest, not marked by emptiness and decay—but by richer fruitfulness and more gracious beauty. It may be lonely, with so many gone, of those who used to cluster about the life; but the loneliness will not be for long, for it is drawing nearer continually to all the great company of waiting ones in heaven. Aged Christians have no reason for sadness; they are really in their best days. Let them be sure to live now at their best. Paul was growing old when he wrote of his enthusiastic vision of beauty yet to be attained—but we hear no note of complaint or weariness from him. He did not think of his life as done. He showed no consciousness that he had passed the highest reach of living. He was still forgetting the past—and reaching forward, because he knew that his best was yet before him. His outward man was feeble, his health shattered, his physical vigor decaying—but the inner man was undecayed and undecaying. He was never before so Christlike as he was now, never so full of hope, never so enthusiastic in his service of his Master. Those who are growing old should rise to holiest joy, to most triumphant faith, to sweetest love, to most rapturous praise, and should attain the ripest spiritual fruitfulness! They should do their best work for Christ, in the days that remain for them. They should live their gentlest, sweetest, kindliest, most helpful life—in the time they have yet to stay in this world. They should make their years of old age—years of quietness, of peace; a glad, holy repose in Jesus. In trust and peace, they should nestle like a little child in the everlasting arms that are underneath them, and give out to all who are about them—the sweetest love, the holiest joy, the most blessed hope. But this can be the story of their experience, only if their life is hidden with Christ in God. Apart from Christ—no life can keep its zest or its radiance! – JR Miller (20 March 1840 – 2 July 1912) One Monday morning, about an hour into the workday, I checked my emails. “Sad” was the subject heading of a personal message, and I opened it up, curiosity piqued. “Sad” did not begin to describe it. I learned that our friend Roy had died suddenly the day before.
He had been cycling with his wife Sunday afternoon when he became the victim of a hit-and-run accident. The words swam before my eyes, and I functioned in a fog for the rest of the day. That evening, my husband, David, and I lingered together after supper. “I think that Roy had no regrets,” I said to him, our reflections interspersed with long periods of silence. “He lived life so fully, with purpose and passion.” We had attended the same church as Roy and his family for many years before they moved to a small town. In recent years, we had only seen them sporadically, but it was always effortless to pick up from where we’d left off when our paths crossed. The church Roy attended seats a congregation of three hundred, but late Thursday afternoon, a thousand people gathered to honor Roy’s life. David and I sat outside along with 10 hundreds of others, watching the service on a screen. His sons, two in their teens and one in his early twenties, spoke of a loving, fun, dedicated father as they read their letters of farewell to him. His closest friend spoke of a man who had no superficial relationships. “If you talked with Roy for five minutes, you thought of him as your best friend,” he said, and the sheer number of people in attendance confirmed his words. Projected on a screen, notes of condolence from his place of work, from pastors of different churches, and from friends in the community painted a uniform picture of a hard-working, fun-loving, authentic man—one whose character struck those points of balance between humility and power, simplicity and wisdom, truth and love. With a baffling capacity to tune in and give of himself, he mentored individuals and led teams, inspiring people with his vision. Whether it was a church building initiative, a determination to keep his son’s hockey team afloat, or a fundraising project to send kids to camp, he led with a confidence that all things were possible. Roy’s widow remained tirelessly gracious through hundreds of encounters with fellow mourners before and after the service. “He was very important to my husband when he was out of work and making decisions about his future,” I said to her unsteadily. “He was so encouraging—at such a difficult time—in a way that mattered.” Printed on the program were words from 2 Timothy 4:6–7: “You take over. I’m about to die, my life an offering on God’s altar. This is the only race worth running. I’ve run hard right to the finish, believed all the way. All that’s left now is the shouting—God’s applause!” In his sermon, the pastor drew parallels between the apostle Paul’s race to the finish and Roy’s. “Roy lived without regret,” he said, echoing the thoughts that had no doubt come to most of us in the days leading up to the funeral. I believe we all felt the need to step up—in some way to fill the void left by Roy. To ramp up and run the race harder, live more fully, with more purpose. As they cycled that Sunday afternoon, Roy and his wife passed by the house they had almost purchased when they’d moved to the town. Riding ahead of him, she turned her head back and asked, “Do you think we should have chosen this house after all?” Minutes later, she would hear the collision and see her husband thrown into the air as the truck sped off & she would run to him and recognize immediately that he had gone. But at this moment in time, they were enjoying the sunshine of a beautiful day. “No, I love our home,” he answered, speaking what were to be his last words. “I have no regrets at all.” -- Ruth McKeague
There have been several people who have written asking, “How can I prepare for the Endtime?”, & some have put forth some ideas. Here’s what we’ve got so far. If you have something to add, & would like to send it in, I can add it to this list. These pointers are very good not just for preparing for the Endtime, but also in carrying out our daily “life of faith” serving the Lord, Endtime or no Endtime. So it’s a win-win situation. And who knows, our “end” could come at any time, as some of our brothers & sisters have already passed on to their reward.
Some ways to prepare are short-term and some are long-term. The Lord said, “But when the time comes, I will put My anointing on you & lead & guide you. So much is just trusting in Me. But as well, you have to do your homework, especially when it comes to the long-term side of things. It’s a partnership between you and Me, & you have to do what you can do to be ready.” For the long-term here are more things the Lord said in prophecy:
Short-term practical ways to prepare for the Endtime:
If you have other suggestions or tips, it would be wonderful to hear them. And even if we are not sure when the Lord is returning, these tips are still good for us and good reminders & to live every day as unto the Lord. – Jacki Scott I had struggled with and overcome the demons of self-doubt and fear of failure, launched out into the
deep, put pen to paper, and written my first short inspirational piece. I sat back and read it through several times. Pleased with my modest effort, I submitted the piece to a monthly magazine for possible publication. Sometime later the magazine’s editor contacted me, saying he would like to print my article. He also enclosed an edited draft for my approval or further revision. Edited! As I sat and stared at “my” work, now before me in edited form, a strange mix of feelings swept over me. I had seen myself as an up and coming writer, but that image vanished like a mirage in a gathering sandstorm. After the initial shock subsided, I tried to think about the situation more objectively. The central idea I wanted to convey was still there, the imagery was intact, and the tone was unchanged, but the superfluous parts had been cut to get to the heart of the piece. The edited version was indeed better. As I contemplated this, my eye caught a picture of a diamond ring in a magazine lying open on my table. I thought about how someone had mined the chunk of rock that had contained that diamond, and about the skilled hands of the lapidary that had transformed that diamond in the rough into a thing of beauty, highly valued and greatly desired. Like a diamond trapped in a chunk of rock, my rough piece was not the final product. The diamond was there, but it had taken other skilled hands to retrieve, cut, and polish it. Life is like this too. We are created as rough drafts that must go through the editing process. God sees in each of us that spark of promise, like the editor spots a promising thought as he scans the rough drafts that cross his desk. Then God works to transform us step by step into a finished article that will make worthwhile reading. Our substance is reshaped repeatedly by the choices and decisions we make, the superficial and superfluous bits are purged through life’s trials, and we are fine-tuned and polished through our daily interaction with others. Like my roughly penned story, in the hands of the Great Editor my life has become more than it was to begin with—and He’s not done yet. -- Scott Montrose |
AuthorThe goal of the blog is to provide interesting, motivational, soul feeding material. All to help remind us that God loves us all and wants a personal relationship with each of us and will take care of us in times of trouble. I aspire to be a force for good by providing you with positive input. I encourage you to share the blog with others. Archives
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