The Ragman

[FineLinen]

God Calling

It had always been Ken Gaub’s goal to help those who were hurting. “Some people just need a little boost, and I wanted to influence their lives in a positive way,” he says. He became a traveling missionary and with his family, conducted crusades not only throughout America but in many foreign countries. He established a magazine, a radio and television ministry and a youth outreach program.

But sometimes even preachers get drained and discouraged, and they wonder if they should consider another line of work. That was how Ken felt one day in the 1970’s as he, his wife, Barbara, and their children drove their two ministry buses down I-75 just south of Dayton, Ohio. God, am I doing any good, traveling around like this, telling people about you? He wondered silently. Is this what you want me to do?

“Hey, Dad let’s get some pizza!” one of Ken’s sons suggested. Still lost in thought, Ken turned off at the next exit, Route 741, where one sign after another advertised a wide variety of fast food. A sign, Ken mused. That’s what I need, God, a sign.

Ken’s son and daughter-in-law had already maneuvered the second bus into a pizza parlor’s parking lot, and they stood waiting as Ken pulled up. The rest of the family bounced down the steps. Ken sat staring into space.

“Coming?” Barbara asked.

“I’m not really hungry,” Ken told her. “I’ll stay out here and stretch my legs.”

Barbara followed the others into the restaurant, and Ken stepped outside, closed he bus doors, and looked around. Noticing a Dairy Queen, he strolled over, bought a soft drink, and ambled back, still pondering. He was exhausted. But were his doldrums a sign of permanent burnout?

A persistent ringing broke Ken’s concentration.

The jangle was coming from a payphone in a booth at the service station right next to the Dairy Queen. As Ken approached the booth, he looked to see if anyone in the station was coming to answer the phone. But the attendant continued his work, seemingly oblivious to the noise.

Why doesn’t someone answer it? Ken wondered, growing irritated. What if it is an emergence?

The insistent ringing went on. Ten rings. Fifteen…. Curiosity overcame Ken’s lethargy. Walking to the booth, he lifted the receiver.

“Hello?”

“Long-distance call for Ken Gaub,” came the voice of the operator.

Ken was stunned. “You’re crazy!” he said. Then, realizing his rudeness, he tried to explain. “This can’t be! I was just walking down the road here, and the phone was ringing—“

The operator ignored his ramblings. “Is Ken Gaub there?” she asked.

“I have a long-distance phone call for him”

Was this a joke?

Automatically, Ken smoothed his hair for the Candid Camera crew that must surely appear. But no one came. His family was eating pizza in a randomly selected restaurant just a few yards from where he stood. And no one else knew he was there.

“I have a long-distance call for Ken Gaub, sir,” the operator said again, obviously reaching the limits of her patience.

“Is he there or isn’t he?”

“Operator, I’m Ken Gaub,” Ken said, still unable to make sense of it.

“Are you sure?” the operator asked, but just then, Ken heard another woman’s voice on the telephone.

Mr. Gaub, I'm Millie

“Yes, that’s him, Operator!” she said. “Mr. Gaub, I’m Millie from Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. You don’t know me, but I’m desperate. Please help me.”

“What can I do for you?” Ken asked. The operator hung up.

Millie began to weep, and Ken waited patiently for her to regain control. Finally she explained: “I was about to kill myself, and I started to write a suicide note. Then I began to pray and tell God I really didn’t want to do this.” Through her desolation, Millie remembered seeing Ken on television. If she could talk to that nice, kindly minister, the one with the understanding attitude…..

“I knew it was impossible because I didn’t know how to reach you,” Millie went on, calmer now. “So I started to finish the note. And then some numbers came into my mind, and I wrote them down.” She began to weep again. Silently Ken prayed for the wisdom to help her.

“I looked at those numbers,” Millie continued tearfully, “and I thought—wouldn’t it be wonderful if I had a miracle from God, and he has given me Ken’s phone number? I can’t believe I’m talking to you. Are you in your office in California?”

“I don’t have an office in California,” Ken explained. “It’s in Yakima, Washington.”

“Then where are you?” Millie asked, puzzled.

Ken was even more bewildered. “Millie, don’t you know? You made the call.”

“But I don’t know what area this is.”

Millie had dialed the long-distance operator and given the numbers to her, making it a person-to-person call. And somehow she had found Ken in a parking lot in Dayton, Ohio.

Ken gently counseled the woman. Soon she met the one who would lead her out of her situation into a new life. Then he hung up the phone, still dazed. Would his family believe this incredible story? Perhaps he shouldn’t tell anyone about it.

But he had prayed for an answer, and he had received just what he needed – a renewed sense of purpose, a glimpse of the value of his work, and electrifying awareness of God’s concern for each of his children – all in an encounter that could only have been arranged by his heavenly Father.

Ken’s heart overflowed with joy. “Barb,” he exclaimed as his wife climbed back into the bus, “you won’t believe this! God knows where I am!”

LINK

 

[FineLinen]

Laus Deo

On the aluminum cap atop the Washington Monument in Washington, DC are two words: Laus Deo. No one can see these words. In fact ... most visitors to the monument have no idea they are even there and, for that matter, probably could care less!

But there they are ... 555 feet, 5.125 inches high ... perched atop the monument to the father of our nation. Overlooking the 69 square miles which comprise the District of Columbia, capital of the United States of America.

Laus Deo! Two seemingly insignificant, unnoticed words ... out of sight and, one might think, out of mind ... but very meaningfully placed at the highest point over what is the most powerful city in the world.
And what might those two words ... comprised of just four syllables and only seven letters ... mean? Very simply ... "Praise be to God!" Though construction of this giant obelisk began in 1848 when James Polk was President of the United States, it was not until 1888 that the monument was inaugurated and opened to the public. It took twenty-five years to finally cap the memorial with the tribute Laus Deo!

"Praise Be To God!"

From atop this magnificent granite and marble structure ... a visitor can take in the beautiful panoramic view of the city with its division into four major segments. And from that vantage point one can also easily see ( whether plan of the designer, Pierre Charles l'Enfant , or Divine Intervention ) a perfect cross imposed upon the landscape ... with the White House to the North, the Jefferson Memorial to the South ... the Capitol to the East ... and the Lincoln Memorial to the West. A cross ... you say?

How interesting! And ... no doubt ... intended to carry a meaning for those who bother to notice.

"Praise be to God!"

Within the monument itself are 898 steps and 50 landings.

As one climbs the steps and pauses at the landings the memorial stones share a message.

On the 12th Landing is a prayer offered by the City of Baltimore;

On the 20th is a memorial presented by some Chinese Christians;

On the 24th a presentation made by Sunday School children from New York and Philadelphia quoting Proverbs 10:7, Luke 18:16 and Proverbs 22:6.

"Praise Be To God!"

When the cornerstone of the Washington Monument was laid on July 4th, 1848 deposited within it were many items including the Holy Bible presented by the Bible Society.

"Praise Be To God!"

Such was the discipline, the moral direction, the spiritual mood given by the founder and first President of our unique democracy ... "one nation, under God."

I am awed by Washington's prayer for America. Have you never read it? Well, now is your opportunity ... read on!

"Almighty God; We make our earnest prayer that Thou wilt keep the United States in Thy holy protection; that Thou wilt incline the hearts of the citizens to cultivate a spirit of subordination and obedience to government; and entertain a brotherly affection and love for one another and for their fellow citizens of the United states at large."

"And finally that Thou wilt most graciously be pleased to dispose us all to do justice, to love mercy, and to demean ourselves with that charity, humility, and pacific temper of mind which were the characteristics of the Divine Author of our blessed religion, and without a humble imitation of whose example in these things we can never hope to be a happy nation. Grant our supplication, we beseech Thee, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen."

Laus Deo!

As you might have guessed ... I kind of like the idea that our Pledge of Allegiance includes the phrase "under God." It is clear when one studies the history of our great nation that Washington's America was one of the few countries in all the world established under the guidance, direction and banner of Almighty God, to whom was given all praise, honor and worship by the great men who formed and fashioned her pivotal foundations. And when one stops to observe the inscriptions found in public places all over our nation's capitol ... one will easily find the signature of God.

We are a nation under God!!! Laus Deo!

LINK

 

[FineLinen]

General Stonewall Jackson

"And I sought for a MAN among them, that should make up the hedge, and stand in the gap before me for the land, that I should not destroy it: but I found none." - Ezek. 22:30.

The future of a nation is directly dependent upon the choices of its men. It is here that the men of America, as a whole, have failed. Like the individual links of a chain, the immoral choices of our men have truly brought this nation into spiritual bondage. Many men are now squandering the zeal and the strength of their youth on the temporal pursuits of sports and money. Our churches are filled with men who will shout the praises of professional athletes and yet are cowards to praise the King of Kings. Hardened and passive, such men are void of Holy Ghost boldness. Yet God, in His mercy, is still determined to use MEN to stand in the gap.

In General "Stonewall Jackson", God found a true man who would stand in the gap. Both strong and tender, the motto of his life was, "Lord what wilt thou have me to do?" As fervent in the field of battle, so was Jackson on his knees in prayer. "He was a man of prayer, accustomed in all he did to ask the divine blessing and guidance. His aid said that he could always tell when a battle was near at hand by seeing the General get up a great many times in the night to pray." General Jackson did not simply pray, he fervently prayed. The following story gives us some insight in the passion of his prayers. It was told the Rev. William Brown, "the truth is sir, that 'old Jack' (Jackson) is crazy. Why, I frequently meet him out in the woods walking back and forth muttering to himself incoherent sentences and gesturing wildly, at such times he seems utterly oblivious of my presence and of everything else."

"A friend was once conversing with Jackson about the difficulty of obeying the scripture injunction, 'pray without ceasing,' and Jackson insisted that we could so accustom ourselves to it, that it could be easily obeyed. When we take our meals there is the grace. When I take a drink of water, I always pause, as my palate receives the refreshment, to lift up my heart to God in thanks and prayer for the water of life. Whenever I drop a letter into the box at the post office I send a petition along with it for God's blessings upon its mission and upon the person to whom it is sent. When I break the seal of a letter just received I stop to pray to God that He may prepare me for its contents and make it a message of good. When I go to my classroom and await the arrangement of the cadets in their places, that is my time to intercede with God for them. And so of every other familiar act of the day." Though a man of superior abilities, Jackson humbly recognized his need for JESUS in everything he did.

As a general in the Confederate Army, "Stonewall Jackson" had a profound influence over his men. It was his holy and prayerful example that contributed to the great revival among the Southern troops. By midsummer of 1863, revival had spread to all the Confederate armies. A chaplain of the 26th Alabama Regiment said that his unit alone averaged 100 converts a week for several weeks. During this same time another chaplain declared that, 'modern history presents no example of an army so nearly converted. A third of all soldiers in the field were men of prayer and members of some fellowship. J. W. Jones suggested that 150,000 conversions took place in Lee's Army alone. It was this revival that no doubt prepared the South for the humiliation that was to follow their eventual defeat, but best of all the revival prepared thousands of young and old alike to meet Christ in eternity. Truly, General Jackson impacted our history through the power of prayer.

What is our greatest need today in our morally fallen nation? We need a tenacious, tender, tearful and Holy Ghost bold army of true MEN! Oh God, make us MEN!

LINK

 

[FineLinen]

World Statistics In Real Time

HERE

 

[Rockhead]

The painting....

A wealthy man and his son loved to collect rare works of art. They had everything in their collection, from Picasso to Raphael. They would often sit together and admire the great works of art.

When the Vietnam conflict broke out, the son went to war. He was very courageous and died in battle while rescuing another soldier. The father was notified and grieved deeply for his only son.

About a month later, just before Christmas, there was a knock at the door. A young man stood at the door with a large package in his hands.

He said, "Sir, you don't know me, but I am the soldier for whom your son gave his life. He saved many lives that day, and he was carrying me to safety when a bullet struck him in the heart and he died instantly. He often talked about you, and your love for art." The young man held out this package. "I know this isn't much. I'm not really a great artist, but I think your son would have wanted you to have this."

The father opened the package. It was a portrait of his son, painted by the young man. He stared in awe at the way the soldier had captured the personality of his son in the painting.. The father was so drawn to the eyes that his own eyes welled up with tears.. He thanked the young man and offered to pay him for the picture. "Oh, no sir, I could never repay what your son did for me. It's a gift."

The father hung the portrait over his mantle. Every time visitors came to his home he took them to see the portrait of his son before he showed them any of the other great works he had collected.

The man died a few months later. There was to be a great auction of his paintings. Many influential people gathered, excited over seeing the great paintings and having an opportunity to purchase one for their collection.

On the platform sat the painting of the son. The auctioneer pounded his gavel. "We will start the bidding with this picture of the son. Who will bid for this picture?"

There was silence.

Then a voice in the back of the room shouted, "We want to see the famous paintings. Skip this one."

But the auctioneer persisted. "Will somebody bid for this painting. Who will start the bidding? $100, $200?"

Another voice angrily. "We didn't come to see this painting. We came to see the Van Goghs, the Rembrandts. Get on with the real bids!"

But still the auctioneer continued. "The son! The son! Who'll take the son?"

Finally, a voice came from the very back of the room. It was the longtime gardener of the man and his son. "I'll give $10 for the painting." Being a poor man, it was all he could afford.

"We have $10, who will bid $20?"

"Give it to him for $10. Let's see the masters."

"$10 is the bid, won't someone bid $20?"

The crowd was becoming angry. They didn't want the picture of the son.

They wanted the more worthy investments for their collections.

The auctioneer pounded the gavel. "Going once, twice, SOLD for $10!"

A man sitting on the second row shouted, "Now let's get on with the collection!"

The auctioneer laid down his gavel. "I'm sorry, the auction is over."

"What about the paintings?"

"I am sorry. When I was called to conduct this auction, I was told of a secret stipulation in the will. I was not allowed to reveal that stipulation until this time. Only the painting of the son would be auctioned. Whoever bought that painting would inherit the entire estate, including the paintings.

The man who took the son gets everything!"

God gave His son 2,000 years ago to die on the cross. Much like the auctioneer, His message today is: "The son, the son, who'll take the son?"

Because, you see, whoever takes the Son gets everything.

FOR GOD SO LOVED THE WORLD HE GAVE HIS ONLY BEGOTTEN SON, WHO SO EVER BELIEVETH, SHALL HAVE ETERNAL LIFE....THAT'S LOVE

 

[Starr SDA Living Word]

Hello all.

 

[FineLinen]

The Whale

If you read the front page story of the S.F. Chronicle, you would have read about a female humpback whale who had become entangled in a spider web of crab traps and lines.

She was weighted down by hundreds of pounds of traps that caused her to struggle to stay afloat. She also had hundreds of yards of line rope wrapped around her body, her tail, her torso, a line tugging in her mouth.

A fisherman spotted her just east of the Farralone Islands (outside the Golden Gate ) and radioed an environmental group for help.

Within a few hours, the rescue team arrived and determined that she was so bad off, the only way to save her was to dive in and untangle her ...a very dangerous proposition.

One slap of the tail could kill a rescuer.

They worked for hours with curved knives and eventually freed her.

When she was free, the divers say she swam in what seemed like joyous circles.

She then came back to each and every diver, one at a time, and nudged them, pushed gently around-she thanked them. Some said it was the most incredibly beautiful experience of their lives.

The guy who cut the rope out of her mouth says her eye was following him the whole time, and he will never be the same.

May you, and all those you love, be so blessed and fortunate ..to be surrounded by people who will help you get untangled from the things that are binding you. And, may you always know the joy of giving and receiving gratitude. I pass this on to you, my friend, in the same spirit

 

[Starr SDA Living Word]

Good Evening.

 

[FineLinen]

Happy 4th Of July America!

Please turn on your audio and enjoy!

HERE

Fireworks Made Easy

Click anywhere on black box.

HERE

AND HERE

 

[Starr SDA Living Word]

Beautiful show, Happy 4th of July all.

 

[FineLinen]

Just to Know

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I know that I know little, but I'm thankful for the little I know

But most of all of I am thankful that I know how little I know,

For the highest knowledge I know of is to know how little I know.

Some know much and they know it; But they never seem to know,

That they know so very little of what there is to know,

For the highest knowledge they know of is just the little they know.

What they know is the basis of knowledge. All must bow to what they know,

Whether of Moses, Jesus or Godhead for they know all there is to know.

Oh, Blessed the man that knows nothing, nothing yet as he ought to know,

For the surest way to know something is to know that nothing you know,

To sit at the feet of Jesus and learn what you need to know.

Author unknown.

 

[FineLinen]

Toilet Paper

Throughout history, the Old and New Testaments have shown themselves to be reliable and true; they rise up to outlive their pallbearers, if you will

The following story probably stirs my own confidence in the power of God's Word and His sovereignty more than any other. Let me share part of it with you today.
I was ministering in Vietnam in 1971, and one of my interpreters was Hien Pham, an energetic young Christian. He had worked as a translator with the American forces, and was of immense help both to them and to missionaries such as myself. Hien and I traveled the length of the country and became very close friends before I returned home. We did not know if our paths would ever cross again. Seventeen years later, I received a telephone call. "Brother Ravi?" the man asked. Immediately, I recognized Hien's voice, and he soon told me his story.

Shortly after Vietnam fell, Hien was imprisoned on accusations of helping the Americans. His jailers tried to indoctrinate him against democratic ideals and the Christian faith. He was forced to read only communist propaganda in French or Vietnamese, and the daily deluge of Marx and Engels began to take its toll. "Maybe," he thought, "I have been lied to. Maybe God does not exist. Maybe the West has deceived me." So Hien determined that when he awakened the next day, he would not pray anymore or think of his faith.
The next morning, he was assigned the dreaded chore of cleaning the prison latrines. As he cleaned out a tin can overflowing with toilet paper, his eye caught what seemed to be English printed on one piece of paper. He hurriedly grabbed it, washed it, and after his roommates had retired that night, he retrieved the paper and read the words, "Romans, Chapter 8."

Trembling, he began to read, "And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose. … For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord" (Romans 8:28,38,39).

Hien wept. He knew his Bible, and he knew that there was not a more relevant passage for one on the verge of surrender. He cried out to God, asking forgiveness. This was to have been the first day that he would not pray; evidently God had other plans.

As it were, there was an official in the camp who was using a Bible as toilet paper. So Hien asked the commander if he could clean the latrines regularly. Each day he picked up a portion of Scripture, cleaned it off, and added it to his collection of nightly reading.
Then the day came when, through an equally providential set of circumstances, Hien was released from prison. He promptly began to make plans to leave the country and to construct a boat for the escape of him and 53 others. All was going according to plan until days before their departure. Four Vietcong knocked on Hien's door and said they had heard of his escape. He denied it and they left. Hien felt relieved, but at the same time disappointed with himself. He made a promise to God—fervently hoping that God would not take him up on it—that if the Vietcong returned, he would tell them the truth. He was thoroughly shaken when only a few hours before they were to set sail, the four men returned.

When questioned again, he confessed the truth. To Hien's astonishment, the men leaned forward and, in hushed tones, asked if they could go with him!
In an utterly incredible escape plan, all 58 of them found themselves on the high seas, suddenly engulfed by a violent storm. Hien cried out to God, "Did you bring us here to die?" But then he said to me, "Brother Ravi, if it were not for the sailing ability of those four Vietcong, we would not have made it." They arrived safely in Thailand, and years later Hien arrived on American soil where today he is a businessman.

How fittingly do the words of the eighteenth-century poet William Cowper capture what God did in Hien's life, a man set apart in Christ:

God moves in a mysterious way
His wonders to perform;
He plants His footsteps in the sea,
And rides upon the storm.
His purposes will ripen fast,
Unfolding every hour;
The bud may have a bitter taste,
But sweet will be the flower.
Blind unbelief is sure to err,
And scan His works in vain;
God is His own interpreter
And He will make it plain.

Ravi Zacharias

HERE

 

[FineLinen]

One Single Rose

On July 13, 2002 a piece of our life was suddenly snatched away. Our youngest son, Philip, entered the next stage of life, into the loving Presence of the One who has made us. It was so sudden; our hearts called out to our Heavenly Father in our grief and great distress with a strange, but wonderful, prayer.

Father: Will you give us one rose?

That was the simple request my husband made that day; one rose to cut and place upon our table in memory of our twenty-year-old son.

As we pondered the shock and sorrow of our loss my husband asked the Lord for just one single rose in memory of our dear son. The year 2002 in this area had been one of the finest years for roses, but it was now the middle of July and the sun and heat had brought the roses to the last stages of disintegration..... except for one beautiful, perfectly-formed rose.

Later in the day....

Our attention was focused on the rear of our home. The situation was identical. Every rose in the last stages of life, except for one perfectly-formed, variegated rose of pink with touches of yellow. Our Father, in our hour of grief, answered our simple prayer with twice what we had asked for. At the front and the rear of our dwelling, one perfectly-formed rose.

2004

We still marvel as we look at those bushes today. The bush at the front continues to provide many lovely roses, but none as exquisite as the one our Father made for us that day. And in the rear....in the rear, the variegated rose bush failed to blossom this spring. The winter had been especially windy and cold and a couple of our rose bushes did not survive. I was so saddened in the spring to note that our special rose bush had not one sign of life - no little shoots sprouting out - just dead, dried branches.

After waiting a few weeks, hoping for life to appear, I decided to plant a new rose bush in its place. Near the end of June I dug up our lovely bush, examining the lifeless root and pondered whether it should be thrown away or replanted in another spot. I couldn't bring myself to throw it out and so I planted the "lifeless" root in a new location in the flower bed under our kitchen window.

What a shock!

One day in the middle of August, I was outside on our patio and looked down at our flowerbed under the kitchen window - I couldn't believe my eyes! I thought - I am seeing things - it can't be so! I stepped closer. There was a single green stem with a rosebud sprouting up as beautifully as you please. Immediately I thought of our Philip - this is our beautiful Philip - out of the agony of his death he is enjoying resurrection life. He is in a different place and basking in the love of His Heavenly Father.

Each day we watched the progress of this fresh, single young rosebud as it developed and grew blossoming into a beautiful, variegated rose - pink with tinges of yellow.
Receiving this rose has been such a blessing to us - a confirmation of the glorious resurrection life that awaits us and assurance that our Father is watching over us and continuing to comfort us in the loss of our son.

[move]"I the Lord build the ruined places, and plant that that was desolate: I the Lord have spoken it, and I will do it."[/move]

http://www.promiseofgod.com/rosepetals/

 

[Starr SDA Living Word]

 

[FineLinen]

Dancing With God

HERE

When I meditated on the word Guidance, I kept seeing "dance" at the end of the word. I remember reading that doing God's will is a lot like dancing....

The Tuning Fork Principle

If you were a musical tuning fork that could be calibrated to attract vibrating sounds, to what note would your pitch be calibrated?

Let me try to explain this strange question and direct your attention to an astonishing law of nature.

The Tuning Fork Principle works like this: When you tap a tuning fork it begins to vibrate and make humming sounds, sending out vibrations of specific pitch through the air around it. If another tuning fork is placed nearby and calibrated to the same note, the second fork will begin to hum and vibrate in harmony with the first one.

You also act as a tuning fork. While the pitch/tune you sends is invisible and, unlike a tuning fork, it is silent to the ear, you DO calibrate your minds and thinking to specific vibrations, and those vibrations search for matching tunes in other people.

You do this both consciously and unconsciously, and send those vibrations all the time. The tunes are silent, invisible signals that flow through the air around us and vibrate in harmony with similar forks (people) are tuned in a similar way.

This is a very profound concept with life changing potential!

Now, to get back to our opening question of what note would you calibrate to your pitch:
You have the choice what signal you want to send, and the signals are thoughts, attitudes, and behavior patterns.

Your "mind orchestra" attracts more sound according to the music it produces. When you commit yourself internally to a thought or an idea the intensity of your commitment increases the rate and quality of vibrations that you send out.

You then start to send vibrations that are picked up by others. This principle is referred to by sayings such as: " birds of a feather flock together", " it takes one to know one", "tell me who your friends are and I'll tell you who you are" and so forth.

Wherever we direct our life force, which manifests by how we think, what we contemplate, the yearnings and passions of our mind is where we will fetch our next intelligence from. This may sound like science fiction but indeed in this you are the captain of your own starship Enterprise

http://www.physicsclassroom.com/Class/sound/u11l4b.html

 

[FineLinen]

Father's Love Letter

HERE

 

[brinny]

"If we only have the will to walk, then God is pleased with our stumbles." ~C.S. Lewis

Praise God, amen?

 

[FineLinen]

Is Your Hut Burning?

The only survivor of a shipwreck was washed up on a small, uninhabited island. He prayed feverishly for God to rescue him, and every day he scanned the horizon for help, but none seemed forthcoming.
Exhausted, he eventually managed to build a little hut out of driftwood to protect him from the weather, and to store his few possessions.

But then one day, after scavenging for food, he arrived home to find his little hut in flames, the smoke rolling up to the sky. The worst had happened; everything was lost. He was stunned with grief and anger. "God, how could you do this to me!" he cried.

Early the next day, however, he was awakened by the sound of a ship that was approaching the island. It had come to rescue him. "How did you know I was here?" asked the weary man of his rescuers. "We saw your smoke signal," they replied.

It is easy to get discouraged when things are going badly. But we shouldn't lose heart, because God is at work in our lives, even in the midst of pain and suffering.

Remember, next time your little hut is burning to the ground---it just may be a smoke signal that summons the grace of God.

LINK

 

[FineLinen]

Brown Bag Christmas

When I asked our newlywed Sunday School class to share a favorite Christmas story, Carrie Fuller said, "Our family has one we call the 'brown bag Christmas.'" When she finished, I had to hear more. Two days later, I called a member of her family for more details.

It was the early 1930s during the Dust Bowl days of Kansas, in the heart of the Depression. The Canaday family---Mom, Dad, 7 children---were having a tough time existing, so there would be no luxuries at Christmas that year. Mom told the children to go outside and find a Christmas tree and decorate it. After a lengthy search, they returned with a dead branch, the only thing they had been able to find. They stood it up in a bucket of sand and decorated it with pieces of paper tied with string. Little Judy, almost four, did not know how a Christmas tree was supposed to look, but somehow she knew it was not like that!

As Christmas approached, the Canaday children, like children everywhere, pestered Mom and Dad about what presents they might get under their "tree." Dad pointed out that the pantry was bare, that they did not have enough to live on, and there certainly would be no money for gifts. But Mom was a woman of faith and told her children, "Say your prayers. Ask God to send us what He wants us to have." Dad said, "Now, Mother, don't be getting the children's hopes up. You're just setting them up for a disappointment." Mom said, "Pray, children. Tell Jesus." And pray they did.

On Christmas Eve, the children watched out the window for visitors, but no one came. "Blow out the lamp and go to bed", Dad said. "Nobody is going to come. No one even knows we're out here."

The children turned out the lamp and got in bed, but they were too excited to sleep. Was this not Christmas? Had they not asked God to send them the presents He wanted them to have? Did Mom not say God answers prayer?

Late that night, when one of the children spotted headlights coming down the dirt road, everyone jumped out of bed and ran to the window. The commotion woke up Mom and Dad. "Don't get excited, children," Dad said. "They're probably not coming here. It's just someone who got lost." The children kept hoping and the car kept coming. Then, Dad lit a lamp. They all wanted to rush to the door at the same time, but Mr. Canaday said, "Stay back. I'll go."

Someone got out of the car and called, "I was wondering if someone here can help me unload these bags." The children dashed out the door to lend a hand. Mom said to her youngest, "Stay here, Judy, and help Mom open the bags and put up the gifts."

A deacon from the church in town had gone to bed that Christmas Eve, and lay there tossing and turning, unable to get the Canaday family off his mind. Later, he said, "I didn't know what kind of shape you folks were in, but I knew you had all those kids." He had gotten up and dressed and went around town, rousing people from their sleep to ask for a contribution for the Canaday family. He filled his car with bags of groceries, canned goods, toys, and clothing. Little Judy got a rag doll which remained her favorite for years.

With so much food, Dad wanted to have a Christmas feast, to spread it all out and eat as they had never eaten before. Mom, ever the caretaker, said, "No, we need to make this last." And it did last, for weeks.
The next Sunday, Mrs. Canaday stood in church and told what the members---and one deacon in particular---had done for her family. There was not a dry eye in the house.

Years later, the oldest sister Eva wrote up this story about her family for a school project. Eva said, "We were so thrilled by all the wonderful things in the bags, for a while ;we lost sight of the most special gift. The best gift that Christmas was not in brown bags at all.
It was Mom's faith, as she taught her children to bring their needs to Jesus and trust Him to meet them. And a Dad's love that wanted only to protect his children from hurt and disappointment."

When Carrie finished telling her story, she added, "Little Judy is my wonderful grandmother." Today, Judy Canaday Dryden lives in Sanger, Texas. As she relived this event from seventy years ago over the phone, one could hear the tear in her voice and feel her pride in being the recipient of such a precious heritage from her mother and father.

At Christmas, we celebrate praying mothers and caring fathers and believing children. We give thanks for sensitive deacons and generous friends and sleepless nights. And we praise God for the hard times that teach unforgettable lessons, stories of faithfulness that get told and retold through the years inspiring each new generation to place their faith in a loving Savior.

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[FineLinen]

Savant Syndrome

For me, though, whatever scientific interest musical savants hold is paralleled by, and in fact exceeded by, the human interest and inspiration these special persons, and their remarkable families, caretakers and teachers. They provide not only a better understanding not just the musical savant, but a better understanding and appreciation of the specialness and potential and A-bilities of all persons with Dis-abilities. They inspire our diligent search and concerted effort to achieve the full potential within all persons — including ourselves.

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