Serendipitous Reveries

Why I haven't written

2010-04-24T21:52:00.000-04:00

I get stuck. I can't complete my thoughts. I can't get myself to satisfactory answers. I don't know if it's because my mind is racing too fast with too much right now, or if it is one of the ebbs of life that I need to persevere through, or very likely both.

If I posted all the half-written thoughts I have started with good intentions of publishing, readers would be very amused indeed, but I don't even feel satisfied with those half-written thoughts.

I've been reading through Proverbs in a quest for wisdom, because I was suddenly struck one day with the thought of how much one needs wisdom to live life, and how very little I pursue it. Rather than gaining any wisdom though, I feel I've only learned how very unwise I am.

Circumstances in life have also brought me to my wit's end as to the right course to take. I've learned lately that there are some things that just simply are not black and white, and God actually made them that way on purpose, to teach us to trust Him.

Inadequacy overwhelms me too, at times. My own inability to complete things as I desire to, my own inability to do things as I know I should. My own inability to even know what to do.

And in short, how could I ever blog to encourage others when every day I'm clinging to the Word and God's promises to encourage myself just to keep moving forward.

O, I am not depressed. I am not down-trodden. I am blessed, and I thankful. And humbled.

So, when the Lord gives me thoughts to share again, I promise I'll be back. But until then, I'm getting lost in the Lord.

Update

2010-01-21T20:59:00.000-05:00

I have sorely neglected this blog, of late, but I certainly have excuses.

Christmas time has come and gone, and my last Christmas at home was the sweetest I will remember of my childhood.

My sister got married! View some pictures at your leisure here or here.

My wedding planning has officially begun. Did anyone know that the hardest thing to find in northeast Ohio would be a horse-drawn-carriage?

I have been trying to be diligent in pursuing as many titles off of my 101 Books to Read. For your interest or not, here they are. :)

Book List - 100 books for 2010

1. ~~Wuthering Heights,~~ ~~Emily Bronte~~

2. Little Dorrit, Charles Dickens

3. Great Expectations, Charles Dickens

4. Crime and Punishment, Fydor Dostoyevsky

5. The Brothers Karamovoz, Fydor Dostoyevsky

6. A Practical View of Christianity, William Wilberforce

7. The Lord of the Rings, the Fellowship of the Ring, J.R.R. Tolkien

8. The Two Towers, J.R.R. Tolkien

9. Return of the King, J.R.R. Tolkien

10. The Screwtape Letters, C.S Lewis

11. A Body of Divinity, Thomas Boston

12. Lex Rex, Samuel Rutherford

13. The Prince, Machiavelli

14. The Inferno, Dante

15. Biography on John Newton

16. Lady Susan, Jane Austen

17. Counterfeit Gods, Timothy Keller

18. Prodigal God, Timothy Keller

19. Alls Well That Ends Well, Shakespeare

20. As You Like It, Shakespeare

21. Othello, Shakespeare

22. Hamlet, Shakespeare

23. On Man and the Universe, Aristotle

24. The Republic, Plato

25. I, Isaac, Take Thee Rebekah, Ravi Zacharias

26. Les Miserable, Victor Hugo

27. The Hunchback of Notre Dame, Victor Hugo

28. Institutes of Christian Religion, John Calvin

29. Bondage of the Will, Martin Luther

30. Good Booklet of the True Christian Life, John Calvin

31. Transforming Grace, Jerry Bridges

32. Instruments in the Redeemers Hand, Paul Tripp

33. The Complete Works of Flannery O’Connor, Flannery O’Connor

34. Wulf the Saxon, G.A. Henty

35. Agnes Grey, Anne Bronte

36. Middlemarch, George Elliot

37. The Iliad, Homer

38. The Odyssey, Homer

39. 1776, David McCullough

40. To Kill a Mockingbird, Harper Lee

41. Reforming Marriage, Douglas Wilson

42. The Grapes of Wrath, John Steinback

43. 1984, George Orwell

44. Frankenstein, Mary Shelley

45. The Old Man in The Sea, Ernest Hemmingway

46. Julius Caesar, Shakespeare

47. One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich, Alexander

48. The Masque fo the Red Death, Edgar Allen Poe

49. The Pit and the Pendulum, Edgar Allen Poe

50. The Oval Portrait, Edgar Allen Poe

51. The Tell-Tale Heart, Edgar Allen Poe

52. The Gold Bug, Edgar Allen Poe

53. The Facts in the Case of M. Valdemar, Edgar Allen Poe

54. The Aeneid, Virgil

55. The Mill on the Floss, George Eliot

56. The Gathering Storm, Winston Churchill

57. My Dearest Friend, Love Letters of Abigail and John Adams

58. Speaking for Themselves: The Personal Letters of Winston and Clementine Churchill

59. A History of the Modern World, R. R. Palmer

60. The Fairy Tales of Hans Christian Andersen

61. Gone with the Wind, Mitchel

62. A Place of Grace, Susan Hunt

63. Feminine Appeal, Carolyn Mahaney

64. The Westminster Confession of Faith

65. The French Revolution and Napoleon, Gershoy

66. The Magician’s Nephew, C.S. Lewis

67. The Lion, Witch and the Wardrobe, C.S. Lewis

68. The Horse and His Boy, C.S. Lewis

69. Prince Caspian, C.S. Lewis

70. The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, C.S. Lewis

71. Silver Chair, C.S. Lewis

72. The Last Battle, C.S. Lewis

73. Henry IV, Shakespeare

74. The Invisible Man, Ralph Ellison

75. Catch 22,

76. The Diary of a Young Girl, Anne Frank

77. Of Mice and Men, John Steinbeck

78. The Master of Ballantrae, Robert Louis Stevenson

79. The Jungle, Upton Sinclair

80. The Mustery of Edwin Drood, Charles Dickens

81. Utopia, Thomas More

82. Jacob Have I Love, Katherine Patterson

83. A Kiss for Cinderella, J.M. Barrie

84. King Arthur and His Knights, Sir James Knowles

85. Queen Victoria: Her Life and Reign, John A. Cooper

86. The Ultimate Gift, Jim Stovall

87. What Mrs. McGillicuddy Saw!, Agatha Christie

88. The Ivory Door, A.A. Milne

89. The Hiding Place, Corrie Ten Boom

90. Hadassah: The Girl Who Became Queen, Tommy Tenney

91. Darwin’s Black Box, Michael Behe

92. Christy, Catherine Marshall

93. The Wedding Journey, Walter D. Edmonds

94. The Story of My Life, Hellen Keller

95. Boy Meets Girl, Joshua Harris

96. Catherine Called Birdie, Karen Cushman

97. Daniel Deronda, George Eliot

98. Old Fashioned Girl, Louisa May Alcott

99. The Difficulty of Getting Married, Serena Blandish

100. Paradise Lost, John Milton

101. Paradise Regained, John Milton

Please notice that the first title, Wuthering Heights, is crossed off. :) I would write up thoughts about it if I could only decide what to think about that terribly depressing, extremely engrossing, thoroughly complexing tale.

And my fiance and I have been working on our story, which you may now read in parts via our new blog.

www.mrandmrsdanielwells.blogspot.com

It may change a few times in the next couple weeks, as I am known for my indecisiveness, but with less than 140 days til the wedding, it's a little over due. :) Enjoy!

When People are Big and God is Small

2009-12-21T17:23:00.001-05:00

I'm always humbly reminded I serve a sovereign God when things like this happen.

I was pondering over thoughts from Ed Welch's book When People are Big and God is Small, today. My fiance and I read this book at the beginning of this year, and were both thoroughly enriched by the biblical truths within its pages. It provided some convicting and lightening conversations. We learned more about our own sinful hearts, and about each other.Today, however, the extent of my thoughts would not go very far, as I seemed to get stuck somewhere in the process of sorting out the mess my head created of itself today, but I knew I was not loving God rightly, and I had a hint of a feeling that it was because I was loving people incorrectly.

I became rather frustrated with my own inability to sort out what I was thinking and feeling, so I turned to my iTunes library for some sermons resources. Sadly, it's very small, and none of the Keller sermons were what I was looking for, as great as they may have been. Normally, my next option would have been to find something online, usually at http://www.marshillchurch.org. But I wasn't looking for some urban, contextualized hype about how wretched the immorality in America is (as much as I love listening to Driscoll yell at his Seattle congregation). So, rather randomly, I went to my church's website-- something I've only done about twice (what I mean to say is I don't know why I went there) and came across this sermon. The title of it, Welch's own book title. God is good. Since Rev. Walicord expresses truthfully what I was trying to sort out in my thoughts and heart, I'll leave the rest of this post blank. Listening to this sermon would be 32 minutes well spent.

Redeemed for a Purpose

2009-12-21T12:15:00.000-05:00

Forgetfulness is inherent in my nature. There are dozens upon dozens of stories of me forgetting something. Whether it was locking my keys in the car 4 times in less than a year, or even once completely forgetting to shut the car OFF before I went grocery shopping, I have stopped keeping track of my forgetfulness. One time my mom sent me into town with the express purpose of purchasing a bed rail for the then-2-year old who loved to throw herself about the bed in dangerous ways. Mom also gave another small list of household necessities. All items could be purchased at the same store, and she even had me call beforehand to make certain the rail we wanted was available. I arrived home an hour later without the bed rail. My forgetfulness cost us only an extra trip out the following day, and a sacrifice of pillows for the baby's bed that night. But it has been worse: When I forgot to open the garage door before backing our suburban out, Dad spent 2 long days, and several hundred dollars in repair... **ouch** Needless to say, I am slowly learning. And after some tears, and prayers, and complaints from family and friends (my forgetfulness quickly outgrew its "cute" stage) it is becoming difficult for me to forget to be more mindful.

But my forgetfulness was not so much a lack of memory, as it was an absence of mind. My brother liked to tease me that I was "physical here and mentally absent." As if I didn't realize who I was! Um... can I say he was often correct? I could become so absorbed in whatever was important in my thoughts at that moment, that the present soon had little consequence.

I say all this to make a point. Because, how easy is it for Christians in our inherent sinfulness to forget that we have been redeemed, purchased, saved, bought-- at a price. And that price was the blood and life of Jesus Christ.

When this is not at the forefront of our minds we forget, and we do things we would not otherwise do. We do things that do not show our minds are thinking upon the things of the Spirit.

Red Mountain Music, from Red Mountain PCA in Birmingham, AL came up with these lyrics as a timely reminder of who we are in Christ.

Come raise your thankful voice,

Ye saints redeemed with blood.

Leave earth and all its toys

And mix no more with mud.

O, goodness! Do we ever think of what it does to the name of Jesus when we mix our lives, justified and redeemed through his sacrifice, with the lowly mud of the world? The spotless robe he lays on us, we carelessly muddy because of absent-mindedness.

With heart, and soul, and mind
Exalt redeeming love.
Leave worldly cares behind,
and set your minds above.

Lift up your ravished eyes
And view the glory given.
All lower things despise
Ye citizens of heaven.

This verse pierces deeply, because it makes me think of what little regard I sometimes have for living excellently. This verse in the song reminds me of Philippians 4:8, "Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things." I thought this verse was over-used and had become redundant until my sister told me she was talking to a Christian friend of hers, quoted the verse and had her friend look at her baffled and then ask where in the Bible that was. Are we becoming so "safe," "accepting," and "accommodating" that we no longer teach, preach and share that our Lord God is holy and righteous, and wants us to be like him? We are citizens of a heaven, with the glory of the Lord to behold- do we live to show that?

Be to this world as dead,
Alive to that to come.
Our life in Christ is his,
Who soon shall call us home.

Chorus:
Dearly we're bought,
Highly esteemed
Redeemed with Jesus' blood
Redeemed.

For my mom's birthday we had a girl's night out. Our grandma treated us to dinner, and then my sister, mom, grandma and I window shopped through the mall and admired pretty things. We ended the evening by seeing Julie and Julia. It was a blast. :) During the middle of our "shopping spree" we stopped at the Macy's clearance shoe selection. I set down the two dresses my sister and I had just purchases at the end of an aisle, and distracted my attention for a minute to a pair of adorable turquoise sandals. Then I saw a white pair... then a black... I really needed a black pair. Before much time had passed at all I had completely forgotten about the bag with our dresses, and was enjoying the great bargains and adorable shoes. It wasn't until my mom came up to me, grabbed my shoulder and asked where in the world I had put the dresses that my heart sank. I pointed to the end of the aisle. They weren't there. I pointed to another one, hoping my first choice had been mistaken. I quickly walked up and down everywhere, asked the cashier if anyone had turned in an Ann Taylor bag with two black dresses inside. Nothing. I finally sank into a chair beside my grandma in frustration and disappointment. (This is not the first time this has happened.) My mom, sister and grandma all looked at me with pity. "It was only for a minute! I just forgot." I cried. "Why would someone want to steal someone else's things?" My mom smiled a little, my grandmother's face was priceless, and my sister stifled giggles. Then, my mom revealed the bag, purposefully hidden from me. They had conspired to teach me a lesson. O, goodness was I a wreck. Mom handed the bag back to me, "Please, don't forget about it."

O, dear Christians! As trivial as it may seem now, we must realize, the righteousness of God is not to be taken lightly. We should not casually set it aside for things that seem to sparkle and glitter more brilliantly than it does. Heaven forbid it would take a steep backsliding-- falling deep into sin-- to realize the pricelessness of the treasure that is ours through and in Christ Jesus. We are not dearly bought to be left to fiddle ridiculously with the toys of the world. We are not highly esteemed through Jesus so that we can have freedom to live as we please, nor are we called citizens of heaven to live and accept the wickedness of a corrupt and perverse generation "in the name of Love." I am convinced God does not receive all the glory when we live as if His holiness is of no consequence to us.We were bought with a price, and we are to glorify God with our lives. Perhaps striking the balance, or finding that place that imitates Jesus, speaks the truth in love, and still settles for nothing less than excellence is difficult. I know my life is evidence to the imperfectness of human flesh. Yet still... we are Saints redeemed. Can we remember that long enough to at least not defame the name of our Savior?

For, Dearly we're bought,
Highly esteemed.
Redeemed with Jesus' blood
Redeemed.

Feminine Toughness

2009-09-20T21:42:00.005-04:00

The quest for true femininity is difficult in a culture full of emasculate men and chauvinistic women, who hardly understand their gender, let alone that consequent role. There are a lot of characteristics Christian women strive for that are certainly important: modesty, gentleness, hospitality, submission, contentment, graciousness, &etc. But during a family meeting this evening something my father said struck me in a new way.

Our family discussion this evening led to the responsibility of older children to encourage, correct and especially to lead younger children by example. The respect and privileges that you naturally gain with age are also accompanied by responsibility. Taking up to that responsibility, having the courage to lead, and the discipline to resist the temptations and allurements of the world takes what my dad referred to as toughness. And he was not just talking to his sons!

Think of Rahab, hiding those spies in the basket, while soldiers from the king demand she hand over the men they knew had come to her. I do not imagine she stood in her kitchen anxiously wringing her hands behind a dish towel, and biting her bottom lip while she lied to those men. I do not imagine that Abigail wasted time nervously fretting about how to approach David and his men when the Bible tells us “Then Abigail made haste and took two hundred loaves and two skins of wine and five sheep already prepared and five seahs of parched grain and a hundred clusters of raisins and two hundred cakes of figs…”. And somehow, I do not really believe that the Veggie Tale version of Ester accurately displays the young queen’s emotions, as if she was nervous and shaky, and terrified. Could a faltering woman put the kind of fear into Haman that we’re told she does in Ester 7:6 when just after revealing his plot Haman “was terrified before the king and the queen.” (emphasis added)

Boldness. Courage. Strength.

Totally, completely, entirely feminine toughness.

So here’s a news flash: Tough is not Angelina Jolie as Mrs. Smith (Mr. and Mrs. Smith), or Franky (Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow), it is not Kurtz’s African Mistress in Joseph Conrad’s The Heart of Darkness, or Agent 99’s stubbornness. Tough is not found in enduring a 10-hour workday. You don’t need a gun, a sword, success, power, or even army greens to be tough. You don’t even need bulging biceps or thighs of steel. Toughness is not only physical.

Webster says it is: “demonstrating a strict and uncompromising attitude or approach.”

It’s a characteristic that every Christian needs. Even women.

Or perhaps, especially women, because we’re emotional, and fragile and need to be protected; because we are divinely deigned the weaker vessels; and because there is something in us that is more easily swayed in the midst of adversity of any kind. Because God created us feminine, beautiful, gentle, sweet, and lovely.

In so many ways toughness seems to be a contrast to what we would expect biblical femininity to be, but in so many more ways I think it beautifies true femininity.

This for a moment of what would happen to our families, our churches, and our culture if we had truly beautiful women demonstrate a strict, yet gentle and uncompromising attitude toward godliness? What would happen to our families if we had godly, beautiful wives demonstrate an uncompromising approach to submission? To gentleness? To contentment? What would happen to our churches if the young girls took an uncompromising approach to purity and modesty?

Toughness is not masculine. It’s not rough. It’s not dirty. Toughness is a firmness of mind, conviction and spirit that every Christian needs. Perhaps the apostle Paul is admonishing us to be a little tougher when he tells us in Ephesians 6 to stand firm.

We live in a postmodern world swayed by a relativistic philosophy that has caused even good Christians to lower their standards of godliness and Christian living. Perhaps we’ve not completely lost our sense of good and evil, but so many things have been lost in a hazy fog of “grey.” We’re no longer tough. We’re weak and flimsy, and easily swayed back and forth by every contemporary fad that catches our eye, or pulls our heart strings.

And where’s the beauty in that, I’d like to know? Dad hit it home with a brief touch on personal responsibility and Christian toughness. Girls, we can’t be truly feminine if we aren’t able to stand firm.

“Finally, be strong in the Lord and in the power of his might. Put on the whole armor of God so that you may be able to stand against the schemes of the devil.” (Ephesians 6:10-11)

A Clock's Striking Midnight

2009-09-03T22:38:00.006-04:00

I've had the Steven Curtis Chapman hit "Cinderella" stuck in my head all day. These particular lines struck me as I was watching Anna related in her 2-year-old way the cares and burdens of dressing her dolly. I don't think you have to be a father to appreciate the words of this song. In fact, I know you don't even have to have children of your own, because as I looked at her, and her sweet baby face, I couldn't help but sigh, knowing that soon enough she'd be grown.

She spins and she sways
To whatever song plays
Without a care in the world
And I'm sitting here wearing
The weight of the world on my shoulders

It's been a long day
And there's still work to do
She's pulling at me Saying "Dad, I need you
There's a ball at the castle
And I've been invited
And I need to practice my dancing
Oh, please, Daddy, please?"

So I will dance with Cinderella
While she is here in my arms
'Cause I know something the prince never knew
Oh, I will dance with Cinderella
I don't want to miss even one song
'Cause all too soon the clock will strike midnight And she'll be gone....

...Well, she came home today with a ring on her hand
Just glowing and telling us all they had planned
She says, "Dad, the wedding's still six months away
But I need to practice my dancing
Oh, please, Daddy, please?"

So I will dance with Cinderella
While she is here in my arms
'Cause I know something the prince never knew
Oh, I will dance with Cinderella
I don't want to miss even one song
'Cause all too soon the clock will strike midnight
And she'll be gone.

Then I found these pictures of our own sweet Cinderellas. Our darling princesses. And I couldn't believe how much they've grown. The words of that song rang true-- all too soon the clock will strike midnight.

Aliza at one week

Aliza now- 4 years old

Anna at one week old

Anna now- 2 1/2

I still remember the summer Aliza was born- the day she was born, even. We'd gone 13 years without a baby girl. Needless to say we were all quite smitten with our little bundle wrapped in pink (not to say we still aren't-- it's very curious how a blond-haired brown-eyed beauty can manage a household if you let her.) We would all rotate walking her up and down our street for hours in the afternoons. Dressing her morning, noon, and night was a delight as well, and Mom soon complained of all the laundry we were going through for one little girl (and she still does, by the way :-)). She quickly became the life of the household, our little Rosebud, Princess and Poppet.

Anna's birthday was quiet and peaceful, and she was here before any of us had time to wonder how much longer we would have to wait. She was sweet and smiley when she wasn't sleeping. I took to calling her Sunshine before she was a month old, and it has stuck. She still is a little sunbeam of happiness wherever she is. She puts us to shame sometimes with her sweet, helpful ways, and the willingness she has to help anyone with all the mundane task around the house. Her own little personality is starting to shine more brightly as she gets older. Just last week she was caught talking on her plastic cell phone-- not to grandma, or daddy, but to "Ty-ler" who happens to be an eligible 2-year-old from church. :)

And I suppose if my mom read this post she would smile and say I've forgotten that not so long ago I was the 2-year-old running around in diapers. Well, this picture is for those memories...

Angela and me- 1 and 3

From Grief to Joy

2009-08-21T15:40:00.008-04:00

Have you ever had those days where you just want to collapse under the weight of your own inadequacy? Today was one of those days for me. The events leading up to it are rather irrelevant at this point, but to put it simply, I felt like my whole process in sanctification had stopped, and there I was, unrefined, filthy and useless, trying to find a way to get to a perfectly holy God.

I was reminded of 2 Corinthians 7:9b-10 For you felt a godly grief, so that you suffered no loss through us. For godly grief produces a repentance that leads to salvation without regret, whereas worldly grief produces death. My immediate fear was that I had worldly sorrow, and would not truly be brought to repentance. After all, how easy it is to over-analyze how you’re feeling, or what you’re thinking, to a point of exhaustion and no longer feel sorry for your sin. That is worldly grief that produces death.

In seeking to discover what I most needed to pray for, I found I was talking a lot about me, myself, and I. I felt this way, I wanted things this way, I hadn’t done this, I had done this, I always got stuck here, I… i… i…

Identity.

Isn’t that the word for the hole inside of us? We are all seeking our identity. That’s why we have personalized license plates, favorite colors, clothing fashions, hair styles, and so much more. Have you ever walked into a store and immediately thought of a particular friend simply by glancing at the items? There’s a sense of identity there: That’s SO her.

Searching for that identity is quite a journey, and I would not be quick to condemn dressing in ways that are so you, or doing certain things because that’s what you do, and who you are. There is much to be said about the individual lives that God has given each one of us. He did not create a collection of unified robots and name then “R2” and “R3” and “R4.” Rather, we’re each unique, we’re each complete individuals. And that’s the way God planned it to be.

Yet, there’s one aspect of that which is easily forgotten… that I had forgotten today. And that was that mystical union with Christ- that in Christ we are spotless and purified children of God.

I told my fiancé of my distress, and he sympathized with my anxiety, but then he spoke the words of truth I so badly needed to hear.

“There are many times in one's life where there is a great sense of inadequacy. Even smart people who go to grad school to get PhDs (or just go to seminary) look at everything, throw their hands up, and say, "What am I doing? I hardly know anything." You could Proverbs 1:7 and Colossians 2:2-3 it up! Or you could get some Hebrews 12:22-24 action in your life. But, probably what you need to realize is this....having a good theology with all of one's t's cross and i's dotted, and being in a relationship (even being engaged or married) is not going to be your solution in life. Because when your theology just doesn't speak to you at a certain moment, you feel like all is crumbling. You have to remember you would have never gotten to the holy mountain top simply by growing in grace.”

What I did today was cast aside my faith for a unsatisfying religion. I knew I was a miserable worm, and felt that uselessness rather acutely. But rather than running to the cross and claiming the promises of God, and glorifying Him for the beautiful, inexplicable union that we have in Christ, I grieved with a worldly grief that I wasn’t as good as I could be and sought to rectify the problem by trying to “grow in grace” and please the Lord. But we cannot get to that mountain top by growing in grace, we cannot even come to the bottom of that mountain by growing in anything- grace, goodness, or love.

Truth is: our identity without Christ is deadness. And no amount of working, and wiggling, crying or screaming can get us anywhere else. Until we can glorify in the work the Lord has done in us through Christ whatever we think we are is useless. Our identity is useless, unless it is found in Christ. Really, when, with humility we realize what we are without him there should be a great deal of grief- grief that is transformed into repentance and then to joy. Such is the joy of Christ.

It’s been nearly two weeks since I wrote that, and I must say that the joy of the Lord has been richer and deeper than it has been in nearly a year. Not that I have not been happy, because I certainly have; but there is little that replaces the deep, fathomless love of God. My heart is overflowing with a good theme! (Ps. 45:1)

The God who Moves Mountains

2009-08-03T16:26:00.004-04:00

I recently read this story, and couldn't help but pass it on. It brought tears to my eyes, and I was convicted. Prayer does not need to be a complicated ritual that interrupts the motion of our days, rather, it's a simple act of faith: God, I believe. Help me in my unbelief.

He really can move mountains.
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Uganda, A Bet, and a Prayer

Note from Doug Nichols, International Director for Action Team World Wide.

Uganda is back in the news these days because of elections and problems within the nation. While praying for Uganda, I was reminded of a story I read several years ago. I found it and wanted to send it to you to encourage you in your prayer life, and to remember the great nation of Africa in prayer. I trust this story will encourage you, not to make bets on God answering prayer, but simply trust in the sovereignty of God! Let's trust Him to move in the hearts of men and women throughout the world.

In December 1994, Doug Coe, who is a remarkable man of faith working and living in Washington D.C., told this story about his friend, Bob Hunter. Bob was a new Christian, searching about to understand what it all meant. One day he asked Doug, his good friend: "Doug, do you really believe what the Bible says about moving mountains when we pray?" Doug thought about it, and answered "sure." Bob was rather incredulous, and asked him, "Do you mean to say that you believe that if I prayed for a mountain to move, that it would move?" Doug thought for a while and the conversation went something like this:

"Let me put it this way. I not only believe it, but I'll make you a bet. A $500 bet. Bob, what do you know about Africa?"

"Nothing."

"What do you think about when you think of Africa?"

"I think about monkeys swinging from trees."

"Then here's the bet. I want you to pray for 45 days. 'God help Africa.' You can't miss a single day. And that's all you have to pray, 'God help Africa.' At the end of 45 days, you be the judge on whether any mountains have moved. If you think a mountain has moved, you pay me $500. If you don't think a mountain has moved, you just tell me, and I'll pay you $500, no questions asked."

Bob, being an astute businessman, rather liked the odds. He accepted the bet. And he began to pray daily, "God help Africa."

Just a few days later, he was at a dinner, and sat next to an elderly lady. In the course of the conversation, he found out she lived in Uganda, and ran an orphanage there. He began asking her a number of questions about Uganda and Africa. After awhile, she finally asked him why he was so interested in Africa. To which he responded, with some embarrassment, "You'll never believe this, but I made a bet with a good friend," and proceeded to tell her about his bet with Doug Coe. By the end of the evening she invited him to return to Uganda with her in a few days to visit the orphanage. He accepted the invitation.

You can guess that when he visited the orphanage in Uganda, his heart was touched by the orphans. After coming back to the U.S. he got a few friends together and bought a load of toys and clothes, and sent them to Uganda. The following week, he got a phone call from the woman at the orphanage: "Mr. Hunter, the children are so grateful for what you did, they would love it if you could come again so they can make a special presentation to you to show you their appreciation. Can you come?" He accepted the invitation, and was off to Uganda again.

After a very heartwarming ceremony at the orphanage, there was a phone call for Bob from the President of Uganda. He had heard about the gifts and called to thank him personally and on behalf of his country, for what Bob had done for the orphans. He also invited Bob to visit him that afternoon.

When Bob arrived that afternoon for his appointment, the President was just in the middle of rushing out of his office. He apologized that he had to go off to some appointment, but invited Bob to come along, so they could get acquainted in the car. Bob accepted. Along the way, at one of the stops, Bob looked out the window to see what appeared to be a stockyard; only this was a stockyard not filled with cattle, but with men. Bob asked the President what he was seeing. The President responded that it was a political prison, and those men were his political enemies. The conversation went something like this:

"But Mr. President, that's not right to have men living in such horrible conditions. You must let them go."

"But those are my political enemies; men who have tried to subvert my authority. I cannot let them go. That would be foolish."

"You have to let them go; it's just not right that human beings would have to live in those conditions."

The conversation did not last long, and shortly thereafter Bob was back home in the U.S. About a week after getting back, he received a phone call. This time it was the State Department asking him to come to a meeting with the Undersecretary for African Affairs.

Rather puzzled over the purpose of such a meeting, he nevertheless went to the appointment. At the meeting, the Undersecretary of State for African Affairs and Bob had a conversation along these lines:

"Mr. Hunter, on behalf of the Government of the United States, I want to thank you for what you have done in Uganda."

"What? The U.S. Government is thanking me for sending some toys to some orphans in Uganda?"

"No, Mr. Hunter. It is about the political prisoners."

"What about the political prisoners?"

"The President of Uganda recently released the political prisoners, which is something our government has been trying to get him to do for years, without success. He told us after taking this action that he was doing it because of what you said to him."

"What I said to him?"

"Yes. What exactly did you say to him?"

Needless to say, Bob Hunter was flabbergasted. But the story doesn't end there. After the State Department meeting, the President of Uganda called Bob over the phone, and asked him to return to Uganda to help him form a new cabinet for his country.

"But Mr. President, I don't know anything about your country or the people who would best serve in your government. I'm just an American businessman. How can I possibly help you choose a cabinet?"

"Mr. Hunter, I trust you. Please come."

Bob went. And did what he could to help the President select his new ministers. And since that time, a close friendship has developed between Bob Hunter, American businessman, and the President of Uganda. The President even stays in Bob's home in the D.C. area when he visits the U.S.

And you can guess, after those 45 days of praying "God help Africa," Bob Hunter sent Doug Coe a check for $500.

That night in Gig Harbor Doug Coe proceeded to tell us that he told his story later to a group of around twenty very successful business executives, all members of Young Presidents Organization, an international association of business people who have become the chief executives or owners of companies above a certain size by age 40.

After he told the story at this YPO lunch, 13 of them came up to him and asked him if he would take on the bet with them. Swallowing hard, after doing some quick math, he nevertheless accepted the bet. He laid out the ground rules for them, that they had to pray every day for 45 days. They did not have to tell him what they were praying for, and at the end of the 45 days, it would be entirely up to them to decide whether a mountain had moved as a result of their prayers.

After those 45 days, Doug received 12 checks for $500 each. A while later, he received the 13th check, accompanied by a letter that said something like this:

"Doug, my mountain did not move. But the discipline of praying every day for 45 days has changed my life, and so I feel I owe you this $500."

36 Hours in Praha

2009-08-02T15:46:00.009-04:00

Our 36 hour adventure in Prague was the highlight of my trip to Europe. Early one Wednesday we got on a bus, drove 6 hours (and watched more movies than we had all year), and arrived in Prague with hardly any idea where we needed to go next. Andersen got to use her Russian- something she hardly ever expected to do in the Czech Republic, and we had a blast walking all over the city.

St. Vitus Cathedral was situated entirely within Prague Castle. The day we visited this was overcast with rain on and off- cold, eerie and wet- made this castle the epitome of Gothic architecture.

We passed this spot of the Vlatava River just before sunset- if we hadn't been in a hurry we would have sat there until dark.

One of the things I looked forward to the most about Prague was discovering more of the history of John Huss's ministry. He is considered by many to be the fore-runner to the Protestant reformation and was a contemporary of Wycliffe. He burned at the stake for his strong, harsh words against the heresies of the Roman Catholic church during the early 1400s (Martin Luther was largely influenced by Huss's teachings). One of the churches Huss had the opportunity to frequently preach at during his lifetime was Bethlehem Chapel in Prague. Citizens of Prague flocked to hear him expound upon the beautiful, and sometimes frightful doctrines of the Holy Scriptures. Unfortunately, after searching for over an hour to find this Chapel we were sorely disappointed to find the beautiful Kapel surrounded by hotels, restaurants and apartment buildings, the Chapel itself no longer used for a chapel at all. A simple plaque was all that existed to reference what the large, plain building used to be.

But we reasoned that since the Czech Republic is largely influenced by the surrounding Eastern European countries it was no surprised that a Protestant heretic was not memorialized. After all, the practicing religion in nearly all of Eastern Europe is still Roman Catholicism or Eastern Orthodoxy. We gave up our search for any remains of John Huss, and enjoyed the rest of our stay. It wasn't until I was going through my pictures when I returned home that I discovered the nature of this statue below.

We had taken a picture of it because of its unique and isolated standing in the center of Old Town Square, near the Orloj, or Prague Astronomical Clock. Czech-written description tags were of no help to two American tourists, so I waited until I was home to Google the statues and discover their significance. I was pleasantly surprised to discover this statue was erected to honor none other than John Huss.

Huss was admired by his flock as a strong, unyielding shepherd. Thus, the arrangement of the statue. Huss's tall, stoic figure represents the surity and bravery with which he led, and the prostrate followers at his feet represent his humble followers who looked to him and the Truth he taught for their freedom.

Huss's condemnation and execution in 1415 followed several years of conflict between Huss, Wycliffe and their followers with the Roman church. Finally, on July 6th, 1415 Huss was brought before the Council in the Cathedral. He was asked twice to recant, and he twice refused. Finally, crowning him with a paper hat on which was written Haeresiarcha (Leader of the Heretical Movement) he was lead to the stake to be burned. Though Huss's followers were condemned and disowned, even by family and close friends, after his death, and most of his work was forgotten, he was rediscovered by a young German monk in Wittenburg, whose struggles to understand the truth of the Scriptures had been recently blessed trough Huss's teachings.

Huss's final words ring as a prophesy of sorts, and God's providence in history is indisputable. With a unfaltering voice, and a heart filled with passion for truth John Huss stood on the burning stake and shouted,"in a hundred years, God will raise up a man whose calls for reform cannot be suppressed."
And then, on the last day of October in 1517, 102 years after Huss's death, that young monk in Germany rose in the dusk of the evening and calmly nailed his 95 Thesis to the church door in Wittenburg. He caused a reform so grand that its influence still has affects today.

The Brilliance of a Budapest Night

2009-07-03T17:31:00.004-04:00

While staying in Budapest for a week we had the opportunity to sail down the Danube and learn some of the history of Budapest.

The Parliament, one of Europe's largest legislative buildings.

The Royal Palace

Chain Bridge and the Hungarian flag.

The Countryside

2009-07-02T00:39:00.006-04:00

I returned from my trip to Europe a week and a half ago. It's taken me this long to get back into the swing of home, but I am so glad to be back. 26 days in Europe taught me a lot, and I learned a great deal about a different culture. I took over 1,200 pictures, and couldn't possibly think of posting them all, however the following will be a few of my favorites.

European countryside is beautiful.
A horse and cart like this were not uncommon in most of the villages.

possibly my favorite picture

churches were the centerpiece of every town

The Alps- pictures just don't do them justice.

A spilled cup of water...

2009-06-12T18:10:00.003-04:00

It's interesting, the things that can try one's patience. But I've found that on rough days, picking up the dolls for the 13 hundredth time, and wiping the kitchen table for yet another, and folding I- don't-know-how-many loads of laundry that my patience often wears rather thin.
And then I pray for patience, as the two year old comes in crying because the dog has just eaten her Popsicle.

And for the last 2 and a half weeks I haven't had a doll to pick up, a kitchen table to wipe down, and the laundry and dishes have been comparatively low. I've had a lot of time to read, and relax, and site see, and talk, play Scrabble, take pictures, and do things I don't often do regularly at home. It's been nice, and I've enjoyed every minute, but this morning when I read an email from my sister, who is thousands of miles away keeping up with life in our home, helping mom, fixing dinner, and even learning to do the laundry ;-), on top of trying to plan a wedding, something struck me.

Her email ended...Well, I've gotta go. Annie spilled water right on the carpet... (and I know I could add an "again" in there without exaggerating- something about that child loves to see liquid spill out of containers to places it does belong. :-))

And I smiled. Patience tested. Battle won. Sometimes lost, it's true. But in the end, life is beautiful. Spilled water, and all. I'd give anything to clean one of those up right now. And you know what makes me heart ache? In all too little time, she'll be the one cleaning up the water spilled by my little girls, and I'll wonder what happened to all those precious years.

But just thoughts for now. Thought I'd throw that one out there.

Absence and a fonder heart

2009-05-21T23:00:00.005-04:00

I leave for Europe in less than a week and I will be gone for nearly 4. It just struck me how terribly I am going to miss my family, especially this one... I do not play favorites, but she's my favorite.

This was one afternoon Angela had taken them out to pick flowers. The little black dot on her chin is a piece of the fuzz from a dandy lion she had tried to eat. :) I love those thick, long eyelashes, and those perfectly puckered baby lips.
I know for certain that when I come home they'll all be so much sweeter.

"For such as these"

2009-05-11T18:12:00.001-04:00

While fixing dinner this evening I caught sight of a wandering Nolan. Wandering boys are not usually good, so I picked up the sheet of paper with his memory verses on it and began prompting him with references.

Eager for an activity he gave me his full attention, but I continued to bustle about the kitchen, as I listened to him recite.

About half way down the sheet of 8 verses he broke down in tears, frustrated that he could not think of the word, and irritated because of all the commotion around him that was causing distractions. I turned away from the stove and looked at him, repeating the first half of John 3:16 in hopes that he would recover. He refused to try.

"I just can't think! My mind... it's..." He grabbed his head, while streams of tears poured down his little face.

Finally understanding what the trouble was, I took him into another room, and we sat on chairs facing each other. I had his full attention- and he had mine. We started from the beginning, fresh thoughts and no distractions.

I was amazed at how quickly he now recited the verses, and how much happier he was executing his task. I realize then something about his personality. What I had first been frustrated with, I was now pleased to recognize. Blessed with a brilliant mind, Nolan easily learns any new task; but his sensitive personality, and disposition made him overly-conscious of the noise and bustle about him.

He has a humorous side as well, and as we were working on Matthew 19:14 (Let the little children come to me and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.) He paused near the end, pondering the last phrase. He looked at me and grinned mischievously, "..for the kingdom of heaven belongs to a sucker like me."

I could not help but laugh. And the best part: at 7, he already understands the first point of Calvinism pretty well. :)

Struggling Onward: a refuge for weary souls.

2009-03-08T17:26:00.009-04:00

Her little niece tugged and pulled at the sleeves on her dress, attempting to put her arms through. Elizabeth Elliot reached out a helping hand only to be met with a shrug and a smile, “It’s OK. Papa usually lets me struggle.”

What a thought: let your children struggle. What a wise thought.

Struggles are often times seen as a bad omen, or as a sign of persecution from God. If we struggle it must be because we’re “out of God’s will.” Or we’re “not obeying His voice,” or something in our lives, be it priorities, passions, desires or deeds are not in line with God’s Word. While that certainly should not be dismissed, that is a common myth attached to the word struggle. Struggling is not bad.

But struggles can certainly be burdensome. They come in all forms: trials, temptations, burdens, depression, crises, rejection, dejection, inadequacy… anything under the sun can become a struggle to you, emotionally, mentally, or especially spiritually.

In Passion and Purity Mrs. Elliot tells a story about herself and Jim, before they were courting, but while they were in love. They went into a cave later one evening, made a drift wood fire and sat together for several hours, uninterrupted. The temptation rose rapidly, and both knew of it. Rather than conclude her story with an admonition to avoid dark caves and fires by moonlight, she instead left the situation conditional. She wrote, “A word of warning here. It is not a good idea to go into caves or sit by driftwood fires in lonely places if you are not yet sure of your God.”

This is not a novel thought, yet it struck me as it never had. The temptation for Jim and Elizabeth was passing boundaries they knew they should not pass; the temptation for the rich man is loving his wealth more than his God. The burden for the young mother is to lose her temper, respond in impatience, rather than accept the grace, and reply in a loving, tender way toward her restless child. The burden for the 13-year-old geek is to be dejected by the taunts and ridicules of high-schoolers twice his size, rather than learning the truth that in Christ he more than OK. In whatever form they may come struggles speak lies to us about who we can be in Christ, and who our God truly is. This its what Elizabeth Elliot admonishes us to remember, and what writers of the New Testament counsel.

“No temptation has overtaken you that is common to man. God is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond your ability, but with the temptation He will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it.” (1 Corinthians 10:13)

And again, when Paul tells the church in Corinth of his thorn in his side, he sighs, ”Three times I pleaded with the Lord about this, that it should leave me, but He said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weaknesses.’ “ (2 Corinthians 12:8-9)

The power that comes through struggling proves to the Christian God’s infinite greatness. He is the glorified God that the heavens cannot help but declare, He is the God of Abraham, Isaac and Israel; he is the God who preserved Joseph, using what his brothers meant as harm, for good; He is the great I AM, who led His people out of bondage, slavery and misery, and into an abundant land; He is the Alpha and the Omega, Jehovah, Yahweh, Abba Father.

How big is your view of God? How powerful is He in your eyes? Do you daily acknowledge His omnipotent presence? A presence that is involved in every way with the happenings and dealings of mankind? Even in the struggles.

Listen to what Peter has to say on the matter, “Beloved, do not be surprised at the fiery trial when it comes upon you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you. But rejoice insofar as you share Christ’s sufferings, that you may also rejoice and be glad when his glory is revealed.” (1 Peter 4:12-13)

Or Paul again in 2 Corinthians 7 “In all our affliction I am overflowing with joy.”

But how ludicrous! This message from God’s Word is completely contradictory to what the world teaches, or what even humanly makes sense. If something itches you scratch it. If you’re hot, you get out of the sun; consequently, if you’re cold, you put on a sweatshirt. In a culture of constant gratification not being surprised by struggles is certainly counter-cultural. But honestly viewing situations like this, does any other source offer as much peace, hope and confidence as God’s Word?

The Lord reminded me of this lesson just recently. The day was particularly difficult. Struggles, trials, and temptation to doubt and fear abounded. I felt as if my life, and those near me were falling apart. I was lost in a sea of amazement, confusion, and dismay. As I cried, the rain started to pour from the sky, as if God was crying with me. In a moment I recognized the truth through the struggle, God was still in control. O! How he holds each tear in a bottle, and how he cares for us. Did not the Son of God weep at the death of his beloved friend? I then thought of the hymn Dear Refuge of My Weary Soul. The lines of the second verse were mine,

But Oh! When gloomy doubts prevail
I fear to call thee mine,
the springs of comfort seem to fail,
and all my hopes decline
. Yet gracious God, where shall I flee?
Thou art my only trust,
and still my soul would cleave to Thee,
though prostrate in the dust.

As I finished the final verse, Thy mercy seat is open still, there let my soul retreat, in humble hope attend Thy will, and wait beneath Thy feet, the sky parted, the rain slowed (though it did not stop) and the sun shone through the clouds. I anxiously began to look for the invisible rainbow. My mom, concerned with my frantic glances asked what was the matter, and I sobbed a barely audible, “I want a rainbow.” A promise, some proof of His promises, was all I wished for, but God thought it best to make me wait. “There is no rainbow, Honey. There are too many clouds," was my mom's reply.

How ironic it was. How often life is like that: the clouds of sin hide the great promises of God… but that does not mean they are not there! Though we are faithless He remains ever faithful.

How blessed, and how humbled I was four hours later with the knowledge of God’s eminent presence graven on my heart. I passed the very spot I had frantically searched for the rainbow, and found stretched across the sky one glorious, brilliant bow. All the colors vibrated against the gray dusky sky. A smile radiated my face, and more tears fell down my cheeks: there was not just one rainbow, but two. The second was merely an echo of the first, smaller, dimmer, less vibrant, but together the sight was glorious. In the time between these two events I had fallen to the ground in humble supplication, seeking grace, and looking towards Hope. It was now as if God was saying I’m here. Look and see. I promised.

I heard it once said that the cloudiest skies make the most glorious sunsets. It’s true. There’s something about great billows of clouds mixing with the rich colors of the sun as darkness rises that is so much more magnificent than a simple dip of the sun below the horizon. The clouds during my day of struggle had made that day's end more glorious.

What I did not recognize during the turmoil of this struggle, a friend told me of the following day. The power of the sun coming through those clouds revealed more of God’s promise than the actual rainbow. Is not the Sun the reason we can rest on God’s promises? I was met in my day of trouble by a patient, loving God, and never before did I feel so united with Christ.

“Therefore, let those who suffer according to God’s will entrust their souls to a faithful Creator while doing good.” (1 Peter 4:19)

Let us answer as Job did in the face of trials, “Though he slay me, I will hope in Him.”

"It is the last step that wins. It is when heaven's heights are full in view that hell's gate is most persistent and full of deadly peril." For this reason we are admonished to stand.

"O Death, where are your plaques? O Sheol, where is your sting? The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory though our Lord Jesus Christ."
(1 Corinthians 15:55)

Tis So Sweet

2009-02-20T15:04:00.003-05:00

Truth. It is undeniable. Regardless of what post-modernity would tell us, there is no escaping truth.

The Lord has been teaching this to me lately. I have been overwhelmed with what seems to have been both the most difficult and yet most wonderful 4 months of my life. Many changes, many difficulties, many blessings. Truthfully, I am tired.

I was thinking today, as I fought an on-coming migraine, and zombied through the first 4 hours of the morning, fixed breakfast, sorted and washed laundry, dressed little ones, and began picking up the endless amount of toys, books, and mis-matched socks that seem to accumulate in a matter of minutes, of truth.

I am feeling much.

I wished for 10 spare minutes to journal out my thoughts. That, I was sure, would be sufficient for the day. The Lord gave them, and I was left still feeling overwhelmed.

I wished for a quiet moment to read a Psalm, and pray it back to the Lord. Surely, if expressing my difficulties in my journal was not sufficient, that was truly what I needed. Does not the Lord bid us seek his face? The Lord gave that too, and I was refreshed, and encouraged, but my troubles did not disappear.

I wished for quiet. Naptime came.

I wished for a vacation. The Lord reminded me of the fun-filed day I was to have upon the morrow.

I wished for a moment to cast my cares upon him, and ask for grace for the rest of what was now becoming one of the longest days in my life. The Lord gave it all.

And here I am, finally humbled with the realization that though I wished and wished for my troubles to be solved in a dozen different ways, God had a better plan that has taught infinitely more.

Regardless of how I am feeling, His truth stands. How easy it is, sometimes, to listen to our feelings (girls, you know well what I mean!). (Yet even our own logic and reasoning can speak to us of what would be best for our lives.) How often, though, do we heed the simple truths of the gospel? When heart and head cannot unite, truth always stands resolute.

There are still 6 hours more to pass before the little ones will be put to bed, and the house will rest. I am sure I will wash another sinkful of dishes, pick up another pair of dirty socks, wipe yet another runny rose, and change half a dozen diapers. I am sure that the plans that I had for today will be thwarted, as they already have been, at least once more. And I am sure that in a moment of desparation I shall wish for something I don't have... and tomorrow it will all begin afresh!

Yet God bids us, trust. How could I doubt that He knows best?

Nearly every night, when I lay my Sunshine to sleep I sing what has become "our" favorite hymn. Though she's not yet two, she recognizes the song, and has even started to hum along as we rock off to sleep. I became rather attached to it last Spring when my life met a crossroad, and I was uncertain which course to take; but the Lord gave it a fresher, deeper meaning that summer when Mom miscarried the baby brother I had hoped and prayed would come.

'Tis so sweet to trust in Jesus, 
 and to take him at his word; 
 just to rest upon his promise, 
 and to know, "Thus saith the Lord." 

Refrain:
 Jesus, Jesus, how I trust him! 
 How I've proved him o'er and o'er! 
 Jesus, Jesus, precious Jesus! 
 O for grace to trust him more! 

O how sweet to trust in Jesus, 
 just to trust his cleansing blood; 
 and in simple faith to plunge me 
 neath the healing, cleansing flood! 
 (Refrain) 

Yes, 'tis sweet to trust in Jesus, 
 just from sin and self to cease; 
 just from Jesus simply taking 
 life and rest, and joy and peace. 
 (Refrain) 

I'm so glad I learned to trust thee, 
 precious Jesus, Savior, friend; 
 and I know that thou art with me, 
 wilt be with me to the end. 
 (Refrain)

That I could remember to rest upon the simple truths of the gospel of grace. How blessed would each day be with the truth This is the day the Lord has made! And how easy each mundane task would be if I only embraced the truth: My grace is sufficient for Thee. My power made perfect in weakness.

O, for grace to trust Him more!

William Borden- No Reserves, No Retreats, No Regrets

2009-02-11T13:23:00.004-05:00

William Borden was born into a wealthy American family at the end of the 19th century. An heir to at least a million dollars, his life could have been one of ease and luxury. After graduating from high school his parents sent him around the world, and he was able to travel through Asia, the Middle East, and Europe. Through these travels he developed a burning passion for the hurting people in the world.

As a freshman at Yale University he began to pray every morning with a friend of his. Before long the quiet morning prayer became a group of friends praying together, and then a prayer meeting, and by the time William finished his freshman year his morning prayer had turned into a weekly bible study that consisted 150 students praying and studying Scripture together. In just 4 years over 1,300 students were involved in such groups.

When he began college the words "No reserves" were penned in the back of his Bible. Upon graduation he had added "No retreats," underneath.

He had a heart for the suffering, poor and helpless. He founded Yale Hope Mission, where he immersed himself with caring for widows, orphans and drunkards. His heart went out to them with compassion and love, and he invested his time and money towards their improvement. Even with his enormous fortune he did not seek entertainment or self gratification. His life was defined by the phrase, "Say 'no' to self and 'yes' to Jesus every time."

With a heart for people and ministering to them, he sailed for China at the age of 25. However, before going into full-time mission, he stopped in Egypt to learn Arabic. It was here that his endeavors were frustrated. He contracted spiral meningitis within a couple weeks of docking. Before the month had ended he had died, but not before adding one last phrase to the other two in the back of his Bible:

No Regrets.

William's family and friends had pressured him to abandon his pursuit of missions. He had the education, personality, family connections, and finances to make something great of himself. But he remained steadfastly resolved on his conquest, even unto death.

No Reserves. No Retreats. No Regrets.

America the Beautiful- A poem by Judge Roy Moore

2009-02-02T13:15:00.007-05:00

America the beautiful,
Or so you used to be.
Land of the Pilgrims' pride:
I'm glad they'll never see.

Babies piled in dumpsters,
Abortion on demand
Oh, sweet land of liberty;
Your House is on the sand.

Our children wander aimlessly
Poisoned by cocaine
Choosing to indulge their lusts,
When God has said, "Abstain."

From sea to shining sea,
Our Nation turns away
From the teaching of God's Love
And the need to always pray.

We've kept God in our Temples,
How callous we have grown,
When earth is but His footstoll
And Heaven is His throne.

We've voted in a government
That's rotting at the core,
Appointing godless judges;
Who throw reason out the door.

Too soft to place a killer
In a well deserved tomb.
But brave enough to kill a baby
Before he leaves the womb.

You think that God's not angry,
That our land's a moral slum?
How much longer will He wait
Before His judgment comes?

How are we to face our God,
From Whom we cannot hide?
What then is left for us to do,
but stem this evil tide.

If we who are His children,
Will humbly turn and pray;
Seek His holy face;
And mend our evil way:

Then God will hear from Heaven;
And forgive us of our sins.
He'll heal our sickly land,
And those who live within.

But, America the Beautiful
If you don't- then you will see,
A sad, but holy God
Withdrawl His hand from thee.
~~Judge Roy Moore~~

This poem was written by the Alabama judge who refused to allow the 10 Commandments to leave his courthouse. It speaks truth. The first several stanzas pierced my heart. But as he comes to the last two stanza he misses a great tragedy that has become truth in America.

Does it not strike significance to Americans that since Roe v. Wade we have preformed nearly 50 million legal abortions? Illicit drug statistics are dismal as well. In 2002, 80% of the new heroin users were under the age of 26, with at least a million addicts at this present day. Marijuana, the most widely consumed, and most popular teen-drug, is consumed by an estimated 1 in 10 teenagers from the ages of 12 and 17. And on top of those alarming statistics we live in a culture razed by the porn industry. A culture with criminals feasting in luxury, and indolent men rewarded for their laziness; where family time is spent sucking in the shallow media-driven entertainment our televisions, computers, iPods, iPhones, and Blackberrys offer. Marriage is rapidly losing it's traditional definition, and the homosexual agenda is gaining more and more power as righteous men hide themselves.

Is this not God's judgment on America?

The prayer should not be for God to keep his hand with America, for it has been withdrawn (in a sense that he has given us over to our flesh) for many years now. Our prayer, as Americans, is that God would make Himself known among us again, and as we sing in America the Beautiful, "God shed Thy grace on thee... and mend thine every flaw." Perhaps then, with His great mercy, God will "...thy gold refine, till all success be nobleness, and every gain divine!"

There was a time in American history, not all that long ago, where Americans flocked into churches to hear a fiery Calvinist preach the Doctrine of Hell. When told that there was nothing separating their sinful beings from eternal damnation, they sobbed and cried aloud. They trembled at the thought of an angry God placing his hand of judgment upon them; and in reverential fear they bowed before their Maker.

The 2nd Great Awakening made history, and Jonathan Edwards and his contemporaries should not soon be forgotten; but let us not consider for a moment that it was the work of men that caused such a great revival of truth in this nation. Only God could work such a supernatural phenomenon, and it is God we should turn to for the next.

With such a bleak outlook upon the United States, let it not be forgotten that even among the immorality and injustice, America is still the wealthiest, most prosperous nation in the world. We are the only nation that still has the Constitution it was founded with, and whose money still reads, In God We Trust. Our memorials speak God's name, and our founders were not slack in acknowledging the Creator as the Divine Institutor of government. Because of faithful men and women, the State of California chose victory for marriage in the 2008 election, with numerous other States affirming the sanctity of human life. We still have the right to keep our property; own guns; speak, write, and assembly as we please; and worship as our conscience dictates.

These are victories. Praise God for them. While we are only ever one generation away from losing our freedom, we, as a nation, are still richly blessed. We should be moved to reverential fear.

(abortion stats: http://www.nrlc.org/ABORTION/facts/abortionstats.html
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Self-Sacrifice: Jane Erye and St. John Rivers

2009-01-30T00:06:00.004-05:00

There are few books in the English language that provide as much thought for the imagination, or as many intriguing characters as Jane Eyre. I recently finished reading the book, and of all that I've read none has struck me as this did. Jane Eyre was certainly an intriguing character and the way that Bronte captured her was thoroughly engrossing. Jane was grounded, deliberate, and principled, but not dull and stoic. In fact, she was full of passion and romance. It was Jane’s stay with the Rivers family that defined her life. She found family, occupation, comfort and prosperity.

The relationship between Jane and St. John captured my attention more than any other subject in the book. Their characters were not so contradictory that they could not agree, yet they had a contrast that beautifully displayed both the virtues and shortcomings of the other. As badly as St. John wanted Jane for his wife, even the casual reader would know he did not love her as a husband should; yet his vigilance in pursuing her was certainly inspiring. When it was clear she would never have him as her husband, he left for India and never married.

My heart went out to him from the first. For many chapters I liked him better than Rochester. His character was above reproach, and his only fault that he was too devoted to God’s work. (If that could be a fault). Though he seems to have missed out of the wonderful enjoyment freedom in Christ can bring to a Christian life, he was empty of regret, and unwavering in his purpose.

I think it must be significant that Bronte chose to end her novel with a page about St. John’s life. The final words do not speak of Jane’s happiness with her Edward, but instead illustrate the life of a Christian missionary who, to the end of his life, followed his Lord, sacrificing health, wealth and even personal happiness to bring eternal life and wellness to those who were less fortunate than he. Even with his legalism, his character inspired me. His life and example were all above reproach, and even as Jane writes of him, “A more resolute, indefatigable pioneer never wrought amidst rocks and dangers. Firm. Faithful, and devoted; full of energy, and zeal, and truth… He may be stern; he may be exacting: he may be ambitious yet; but his is the sternness of the warrior Greatheart, who guards his pilgrim convoy from the onslaught of Apollyon. His is the exaction of the apostle, who speaks but for Christ when he says—‘Whosoever will come after Me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow Me.’…[Those] who are called, and chosen, and faithful.” (p. 552)

And I finished Jane Erye with tears in my eyes, crying, not for Jane, but for St. John…
…Yet the book is titled Jane Eyre and I was missing the connect. Until I smiled as I thought of her happiness, and her curious (but O, so wonderful!) marriage. The differences between the life she could have had and the life she chose then struck me: there were few. Except for an extreme climate, lack of food, Indian patients and an unloving husband the life she could have had with St. John was not very different from the life she chose with Rochester. Blinded and one-handed he needed care. Even when he was well, his personality was one that demanded attention. And what did Jane do? For the rest of her life she sacrificed her dreams, her wishes, her self for the love of her husband. She gave all to him, and there was never a couple so "bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh” so united they were. Yet, unlike St. John, who gave up a fanciful love for the reserves of a missionary’s life, Jane’s true desires were fulfilled in her self-sacrifice. It was not that serving Mr. Rochester for the rest of her life stifled her imagination, crushed her dreams, or gave her no fulfillment. Rather, her marriage to Rochester was what gave her those things. And how beautiful it was! She was never so happy as when she was with him; she was never so content as when she was at his side; and never so satisfied as when she heard him say, “Jane! Jane, I need you. Come to me.”

What love! How many times have I heard a little voice call from some room in the house, “I need help!” and with a sigh go seek them out.

That is not self-sacrifice.

That does not even touch the surface of love. I wish I knew what Bronte purposed when she wrote Jane Eyre. Was there a message she wished to communicate above all others? If I could choose just one thought to bring out of this epic novel it is found in her self-sacrifice. Diligent, tireless, constant, cheerful and issued from a heart full of love. There stands the difference between St. John Rivers and dear Jane Eyre. While one sacrificed himself for duty the other sacrificed herself for love. O, blessed Christian whose love is for his duty!

Princess in Waiting

2009-01-29T15:59:00.004-05:00

I wrote this poem over the summer, late one night when I couldn't sleep. My weak attempt at poetry somehow captured my feelings, and upon this poem's completion, I could finally sleep.

She stands within a lonely tower-
Patiently stands, and awaits the hour
When her knight in shining armor will finally come for her.
She stands with hands across her heart
Afraid a foe will steal a part
Of what she’s saved and hoped and dreamed to give to only one.
Tightly clasped her hands appear
To the average man. The one who does not lift a spear
Will never gain this damsel’s hand.
Some may pry and prod and push, and some may toss away,
Negligent of the priceless prize that may
Be the blessed encouragement and strength through their day.
The Princess’s lovely heart is not a simple thing
The complexity of its ways continually confusion bring
Unto the girl and all true knights who would try to seek her heart.

From the distance, in the east, along with the rising sun,
She sees a knight approaching fast- it is the king’s own son.
He comes to gently speak to her, and tell her of his love.
At first he sits atop his steed, a distance from the castle
He calls to her, to hear to voice, and wonders at her answer:
She wishes him not to come, and bid him, “Go away!”
He looks confused, then laughs out loud
And gallops all the faster. Onward over the castle bridge, dust a rising cloud
He will not be discouraged from the adventure now.
She turns away and tightly grips her hands across her heart,
Unwilling to believe it’s him, joys and tears and fears in part
She sits hopefully expectant, yet half in anxiety.
He races up the winding steps, each movement brings
A thrilling beat upon his heaving chest. Kings
Of old told him the way to this captivating treasure.
The adventure’s just begun
As he jumps the steps and breaks his run.
He quietly approaches the door of the damsel’s tower.

He knocks upon the wooden door,
Her footsteps fall across the floor
And silently-
She lets him in.

The knight reaches out to take her hand
But she steps back, looks down and
Blushes at his eagerness and zeal.
The mystery and the suspense
Do not diminish his high spirits. She puts down her defense,
And he tells her his great tales.
She listens quite intently, and hangs on every word
As the battles, fights and conquests gallantly unfold—
All was done for her.
He must not only speak his love
But show in more than words of
His love for her alone.
She smiles when he has finished speaking.
Then looks away to keep from weeping.
Unsure of what to say or do,
Her previous fears returning fast,
The comfort gone- it could not last.
Disbelieving, fearing heart- it stops…

He reaches over and between her hands
Slips his own, the moment planned.
He’s found his way into her heart.

Every fear, now joy imparts.

Greetings

2009-01-25T19:26:00.000-05:00

Hullo! Welcome to my blog! It's still under some construction, and I don't know when I'll be able to post or write. Hopefully soon! Thank you for visiting!!