Editor: Richard (Dick) Innes
Published by: ACTS International
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Vol. 8 – No. 2206 June 03, 2006
Thought for the week: "With time the mulberry leaf becomes a silk gown." – Chinese Proverb
"We always have time for the things we put first." – Paul Johnson
"Don't judge each day by the harvest you reap, but by the seeds you plant." – Robert Louis Stevenson
Of all the things that matter, that really and truly matter, working more efficiently and getting more done, is not one of them." – Mike Dooley
"Being is more important than doing." – Dick Innes
"To be is to be in relationships." – Selwyn Hughes
"The task ahead of us is never as great as the Power behind us." – Unknown
"Hope is necessary in every condition. The miseries of poverty, sickness and captivity would, without this comfort, be insupportable." – Samuel Johnson
A small child waits with impatience the arrival home of a parent. She wishes to relate some sandbox experience. She is excited to share the thrill that she has known that day. The time comes; the parent arrives. Beaten down by the stresses of the workplace the parent often replies: 'Not now, honey, I'm busy, go watch television.' The most often spoken words in the American household today are the words: go watch television. If not now, when? Later. But later never comes for many and the parent fails to communicate at the very earliest of ages. We give her designer clothes and computer toys, but we do not give her what she wants the most, which is our time.
Now, she is fifteen and has a glassy look in her eyes. Honey, do we need to sit down and talk? Too late. Love has passed by.
– Attributed to Robert Keeshan, better known
to America as Captain Kangaroo.
Augustine, while puzzling over the doctrine of the Trinity, was walking along the beach one day when he observed a young boy with a bucket, running back and forth to pour water into a little hole. Augustine asked, "What are you doing?" The boy replied, "I'm trying to put the ocean into this hole."
Then Augustine realized that he had been trying to put an infinite God into his finite mind.
– Michael Green, Illustrations for Biblical Preaching,
Baker Book House, 1993, p. 389.
A number of years ago young Matthew LeSage, a third-grader, wanted to do something to help the hungry in his city. So he started a program, Hams for the Hungry. In its fourth year, Hams for the Hungry raised $40,000 to brighten the holiday season for people with limited resources.
Matthew's story reminds me of another young man, 13 years old at the time, who read about Dr. Albert Schweitzer's missionary work in Africa. He wanted to help. He had enough money to buy one bottle of aspirin. He wrote to the Air Force and asked if they could fly over Dr. Schweitzer's hospital and drop the bottle down to him. A radio station broadcast the story about this young fellow's concern for helping others. Others responded as well. Eventually, he was flown by the government to Schweitzer's hospital along with 4 1/2 tons of medical supplies worth $400,000 freely given by thousands of people. This, of course, would be the equivalent of millions of dollars today. When Dr. Schweitzer heard the story, he said, "I never thought one child could do so much."
Our story from scripture for today is about a young man who didn't have much. But what he did have, he offered to Christ. And thousands of hungry people were fed.
Consumed by my loss, I didn't notice the hardness of the pew where I sat. I was at the funeral of my dearest friend—my mother. She finally had lost her long battle with cancer. The hurt was so intense I found it hard to breathe at times. Always supportive, Mother clapped loudest at my school plays, held a box of tissues while listening to my first heartbreak, comforted me at my father's death, encouraged me in college, and prayed for me my entire life. When mother's illness was diagnosed, my sister had a new baby and my brother had recently married his childhood sweetheart, so it fell on me, the 27-year-old middle child without entanglements, to take care of her.
I counted it an honor. "What now, Lord?" I asked sitting in church. My life stretched out before me as an empty abyss. My brother sat stoically with his face toward the cross while clutching his wife's hand. My sister sat slumped against her husband's shoulder, his arms around her as she cradled their child. All so deeply grieving, no one noticed I sat alone. My place had been with our mother, preparing her meals, helping her walk, taking her to the doctor, seeing to her medication, reading the Bible together.
Now she was with the Lord. My work was finished, and I was alone. I heard a door open and slam shut at the back of the church. Quick footsteps hurried along the carpeted floor. An exasperated young man looked around briefly and then sat next to me. He folded his hands and placed them on his lap. His eyes were brimming with tears. He began to sniffle. "I'm late," he explained, though no explanation was necessary.
After several eulogies, he leaned over and commented, "Why do they keep calling Mary by the name of 'Margaret?'"
"Because that was her name, Margaret. Never Mary. No one called her 'Mary,'" I whispered. I wondered why this person couldn't have sat on the other side of the church. He interrupted my grieving with his tears and fidgeting. Who was this stranger anyway?
"No, that isn't correct," he insisted, as several people glanced over at us whispering, "Her name is Mary, Mary Peters."
"That isn't who this is."
"Isn't this the Lutheran church?"
"No, the Lutheran church is across the street."
"Oh."
"I believe you're at the wrong funeral, Sir."
The solemnness of the occasion mixed with the realization of the man's mistake bubbled up inside me and came out as laughter. I cupped my hands over my face, hoping it would be interpreted as sobs. The creaking pew gave me away. Sharp looks from other mourners only made the situation seem more hilarious. I peeked at the bewildered, misguided man seated beside me.
He was laughing, too, as he glanced around, deciding it was too late for an uneventful exit. I imagined Mother laughing too. At the final "Amen" we darted out a door and into the parking lot.
"I do believe we'll be the talk of the town," he smiled. He said his name was Rick and since he had missed his aunt's funeral, asked me out for a cup of coffee. That afternoon began a lifelong journey for me with this man who attended the wrong funeral, but was in the right place.
A year after our meeting, we were married at a country church where he was the assistant pastor. This time we both arrived at the same church, right on time. In my time of sorrow, God gave me laughter. In place of loneliness, God gave me love. This past June we celebrated our twenty-second wedding anniversary. Whenever anyone asks us how we met, Rick tells them, "Her mother and my Aunt Mary introduced us, and it's truly a match made in heaven."
"But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us" (Romans 5:8, NIV).
After a few of the usual Sunday evening hymns, the church's pastor slowly stood up, walked over to the pulpit and, before he gave his sermon for the evening, briefly introduced a guest minister who was in the service that evening.
In the introduction, the pastor told the congregation that the guest minister was one of his dearest childhood friends and that he wanted him to have a few moments to greet the church and share whatever he felt would be appropriate for the service. With that, an elderly man stepped up to the pulpit and began to speak.
"A father, his son, and a friend of his son were sailing off the Pacific coast," he began, "when a fast approaching storm blocked any attempt to get back to the shore. The waves were so high, that even though the father was an experienced sailor, he could not keep the boat upright, and the three were swept into the ocean as the boat capsized."
The old man hesitated for a moment, making eye contact with two teenagers who were, for the first time since the service began, looking somewhat interested in his story.
The aged minister continued with his story, "Grabbing a rescue line, the father had to make the most excruciating decision of his life: to which boy would he throw the other end of the life line? He had only seconds to make the decision. The father knew that his son was a Christian. He also knew that his son's friend was not. The agony of his decision could not be matched by the torrent of waves."
"As the father yelled out, 'I love you, son!' he threw out the life line to his son's friend. By the time the father had pulled the friend back to the capsized boat, his son had disappeared beneath the raging swells into the black of night. His body was never recovered."
By this time, the two teenagers were sitting up straight in the pew, anxiously waiting for the next words to come out of the old minister's mouth.
"The father," he continued, "knew his son would step into eternity with Jesus and he could not bear the thought of his son's friend stepping into an eternity without Jesus. Therefore, he sacrificed his son to save the son's friend."
How great is the love of God that he should do the same for us. Our heavenly Father sacrificed his only begotten Son that we could be saved. I urge you to accept his offer to rescue you and take a hold of the lifeline he is throwing out to you in this service."
With that, the old man turned and sat back down in his chair as silence filled the room.
The pastor again walked slowly to the pulpit and delivered a brief sermon with an invitation at the end. However, no one responded to the appeal. Within minutes after the service ended, the two teenagers were at the old man's side.
"That was a nice story," politely stated one of them, "but I don't think it was very realistic for a father to give up his only son's life in hopes that the other boy would become a Christian."
"Well, you've got a point there," the old man replied, glancing down at his worn Bible. A big smile then broadened his narrow face as he looked up at the boys and said, "It sure isn't very realistic, is it? But I'm standing here today to tell you that story gives me a glimpse of what it must have been like for God to give up his Son for me. You see, I was that father and your pastor was my son's friend."1
Suggested prayer: "Dear God, I thank you from the depths of my heart for giving your Son, Jesus, to die in my place to pay the penalty for all my sins so I can be freely forgiven and given your gift of eternal life. Thank you for hearing and answering my prayer. Gratefully, in Jesus' name, amen."
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