Week of January 2
Four grandparents wait for the arrival of a granddaughter. I’m sure this baby, three weeks overdue, will be here by years end for I had prayed for that and heard a clear ‘yes.’ Midnight—no baby! The message had been so clear. Did I misunderstand?
At 12:15 the new father reports baby is here. I ask when was she born? “At 11:45,” he says apologetically, “ I’ve been busy cleaning her up.”
“Therefore know that the Lord your God, He is the faithful God who keeps covenant and mercy for a thousand generations with those who love Him and keep His commandments.” (Deuteronomy 7:9)
Incredible true stories that touch the heart and tug at the soul. Are they chance or destiny, coincidence or fate? Do you have your own Go Figure story? Want to share it? E-mail us at gofigureamerica@yahoo.com
Friday, December 24, 2010
Pray Specifically
Week of December 25
She is introduced as Ms Jeannie You don’t use last names when you are running. She rode a bus to Florida with one suitcase and the clothes on her back. She had been directed to a shelter for abused women and given a meal. The next morning she went looking for employment.
“I was able to wait on tables and within a couple of weeks I had enough tips to rent a small apartment. What I really needed was a car to go on interviews and find a better job. So I prayed very specifically for a four-door Camry (she had had one once) so I could take people to church with me. I wanted a clean beige or brown car.
“A few days later I received a call from a caring organization that donates used cars to needy people. They had heard of my plight and called to say they had a car for me.
“When I arrived to pickup my car I was told the donor had taken it to a car wash. A few minutes later a car entered the parking lot and I knew it
was a gift from God. It was a sparkling beige four-door Camry.”
Ms Jeannie
New York, New York
She is introduced as Ms Jeannie You don’t use last names when you are running. She rode a bus to Florida with one suitcase and the clothes on her back. She had been directed to a shelter for abused women and given a meal. The next morning she went looking for employment.
“I was able to wait on tables and within a couple of weeks I had enough tips to rent a small apartment. What I really needed was a car to go on interviews and find a better job. So I prayed very specifically for a four-door Camry (she had had one once) so I could take people to church with me. I wanted a clean beige or brown car.
“A few days later I received a call from a caring organization that donates used cars to needy people. They had heard of my plight and called to say they had a car for me.
“When I arrived to pickup my car I was told the donor had taken it to a car wash. A few minutes later a car entered the parking lot and I knew it
was a gift from God. It was a sparkling beige four-door Camry.”
Ms Jeannie
New York, New York
Monday, December 20, 2010
Christmas Eve
Week of December 19
Its Christmas Eve and I'm feeling Bar Humbug! I'm in Panama, courtesy of the U.S. Army and its my first Christmas in the tropics. And I'm feeling alone.
I'm tired of carboard snowmem,fake snow, plastic evergreens and lights on palm trees. Bar humbug!
Some enterprising soldiers parked a tank and eight jeeps at the edge of the parade field, connected them with ammunition belts and have a stuffed santa waving from the tank. Bar Humbug!
My depression is getting worse by the hour. I grew up with Currier and Ives Christmases with real snowmen, the smell of freshly cut Christmas trees, and a cold wintry wind greeting you everywhere. Here it is 80 degrees, no wind, and a musty smell everywhere. Bar Humbug.
Evening comes and I make my way to the base chapel dressed in slacks and a sports shirt. Inside the chapel is lit by candle light and familiar carols are sung and the traditional scripture passages of the birth of the Christ child are read.
I don't remember what the sermon was about but the message I heard was lound and clear. The first Christmas was held in a desert...no pine trees, no snowmen, no Santa but a lasting gift of love for all.
Mal Salter
Sarasota
(The above was experienced 55 years ago this Friday)
Its Christmas Eve and I'm feeling Bar Humbug! I'm in Panama, courtesy of the U.S. Army and its my first Christmas in the tropics. And I'm feeling alone.
I'm tired of carboard snowmem,fake snow, plastic evergreens and lights on palm trees. Bar humbug!
Some enterprising soldiers parked a tank and eight jeeps at the edge of the parade field, connected them with ammunition belts and have a stuffed santa waving from the tank. Bar Humbug!
My depression is getting worse by the hour. I grew up with Currier and Ives Christmases with real snowmen, the smell of freshly cut Christmas trees, and a cold wintry wind greeting you everywhere. Here it is 80 degrees, no wind, and a musty smell everywhere. Bar Humbug.
Evening comes and I make my way to the base chapel dressed in slacks and a sports shirt. Inside the chapel is lit by candle light and familiar carols are sung and the traditional scripture passages of the birth of the Christ child are read.
I don't remember what the sermon was about but the message I heard was lound and clear. The first Christmas was held in a desert...no pine trees, no snowmen, no Santa but a lasting gift of love for all.
Mal Salter
Sarasota
(The above was experienced 55 years ago this Friday)
Saturday, December 11, 2010
God's Healing Touch
Week of December 12
Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct your paths. Proverbs 3:5-6.
Saturday, September 2nd, was a gorgeous, end-of-summer day. Marla and the four boys spent the day at Uncle Rich’s house in Monson, Massachusetts, as Chip flew back from an out-of-state conference.
Jared, age 31/2, was walking along the lawn at the top of a six-foot retaining wall next to the driveway when he slipped in some sand and fell to the pavement below, landing on his forehead. Uncle Rich heard the impact as Jared hit the driveway and ran over as Jared stood up bawling and clutching a big scrape on his forehead.
Rich brought Jared inside to Marla and laid him on the couch. She said, “Jared, open your eyes.” He did—and one eye looked at her, while the other was angled strangely away toward the ground. Fearing a serious head injury, 9-1-1 was called.
Jared continued to cry, and Marla, Rich and the boys gathered around him and began to pray. Marla
laid her hand on Jared’s head as she prayed specifically for healing.
Ben and Brian did their best to help by announcing each emergency vehicle as it arrived. Chris was very upset and crying, first staying near Jared, then hiding in the house as rescuers arrived. Police officers arrived, then Monson Fire Department EMTs came on the scene and quickly immobilized him on a backboard. As they were strapping him in, Jared suddenly cried out “Ow, it’s burning!” and grabbed at his forehead. After this he was more calm and subdued.
Marla rode with him in the ambulance on the 25-minute trip to Bay state Medical Center in Springfield, while Rich followed with the boys in the van. On the way, Jared became less and less responsive and then fell asleep. Was he exhausted from crying and missing his nap? Or was this a sign of brain swelling? Concerned about this change, the EMTs tried to keep Jared awake and called for a paramedic unit to meet them on the way to the hospital.
Jared’s left eye was now totally swollen shut, bulging from the bleeding behind the eyelid, and scowling a dark, angry purple.
A paramedic unit from Ludlow Fire Department met up with the ambulance, and the medic started an IV, hooked up a heart monitor, and gave other advanced life-support care. Knowing that everything was being done that could be done, Marla was able to let her tears flow. As a pediatric nurse, she had cared for many children with head trauma and was well aware of the potential for a devastating outcome.
At the ER Jared was scanned, X-rayed, poked and prodded. His brothers got to see Jared, and had their many questions answered by the excellent Child Life staff person. Chris was afraid Jared would be operated on and was very relieved to find no surgery was needed. Jared was diagnosed with a non-displaced skull fracture over the left eye, extending into the eye socket.
Thankfully the doctors could detect no bleeding in the brain. He was admitted for observation and, after finding a bed on the pediatric unit, he quickly fell into an exhausted sleep. Uncle Rich took the
other three boys to his house overnight and left a message on Chip’s cell phone with details of the accident.
Chip landed at the airport at 10:30 p.m. and got the message off his cell phone. It was a quick trip up I-91 to Bay state, all the while making phone calls to
mobilize prayer support. Chip walked onto the pediatric floor to find Jared asleep, being cuddled by Marla. His left eye was bulging, black
and blue, so swollen the lashes were out of sight. He had a three-inch circular abrasion on his forehead, scrapes on his face and left ear, and an IV slowly dripping into his arm. Marla slept in the bed with him, and he was being awakened hourly to check responsiveness. Interestingly, Jared never
complained of pain.
We prayed over him. He awakened around 1:00 a.m. and spoke clearly with Marla about the entire incident. Marla felt her worries melting away, replaced with a peace and assurance that Jared would be okay.
By the next afternoon his spirits had improved. He got to play with toys and ride a tricycle around the pediatric unit. Uncle Rich brought the three other boys to visit, and Grandma and Grandpa drove up to see him. By late Sunday afternoon the pediophthalmologist pronounced him fit for discharge, and he was home for dinner.
The swelling should have taken about a week to disappear, but it was nearly gone in three days. His bruising could have taken two to three weeks to fully disappear, but it was gone in one week. We were amazed at his quick recovery.
We know that with God involved we should not have been surprised, but it was rather incredible to see the healing!
As a family, we all read “Curious George Goes to the Hospital” and Jared recognized many things from his experience—nurses, name bracelets,
X-ray machines, the tricycles, and the IV. It was a good way for him to talk about his experience and compare what happened to him with what “George”
went through. It was also good for the brothers to see what happened to George and learn that the same things had happened to Jared, lessoning the mystery of “behind closed doors.”
In follow-up exams, Jared was found to have no lasting injury of any kind. We thank God for many things! The fall could easily have injured Jared much more severely, but it didn’t. We had quick responses from competent professional caregivers up and down the chain. Modern medicine was able to quickly dispel fears about the severity of the head injury. Our family was supportive and involved throughout. Rich (who is a single guy) cared for Jared’s three brothers by himself for an extra day and made the key phone calls to Chip and family. We had prayer chains working overtime across the country. Pastor Jey and Joan Deifell personally checked on Jared’s progress about every four hours. God’s spirit worked mightily through the body.
In hindsight, we believe God healed Jared before he was put in the ambulance. Remember Jared saying “Ow, it’s burning?” There are many reports of spiritual healing associated with heat or a burning sensation. At the time, Jared’s cries seemed to be indicating further injury—but we believe
God was healing Jared and then allowed him to fall into a restful sleep in the ambulance.
When we got to the hospital, his left eye was swollen shut, but when the doctor pried the lids apart to check it, both eyes were, miraculously, in perfect alignment. The doctor was baffled by this change from what Marla and the EMTs reported.
Despite his confirmed skull fracture, Jared didn’t complain of pain—but it all makes sense: God was there in power. We believe the relatively minor extent of Jared’s injuries and his fast and
full recovery are due to guardian angels, God’s intervention, and answers to prayer. He is able! He hears and responds! He cares for us! Thank You, Jesus.
Chip and Marla Darius
Cromwell, Connecticut.
Copyright Thanks Be, First Church of Christ, Wethersfield, Ct.
Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct your paths. Proverbs 3:5-6.
Saturday, September 2nd, was a gorgeous, end-of-summer day. Marla and the four boys spent the day at Uncle Rich’s house in Monson, Massachusetts, as Chip flew back from an out-of-state conference.
Jared, age 31/2, was walking along the lawn at the top of a six-foot retaining wall next to the driveway when he slipped in some sand and fell to the pavement below, landing on his forehead. Uncle Rich heard the impact as Jared hit the driveway and ran over as Jared stood up bawling and clutching a big scrape on his forehead.
Rich brought Jared inside to Marla and laid him on the couch. She said, “Jared, open your eyes.” He did—and one eye looked at her, while the other was angled strangely away toward the ground. Fearing a serious head injury, 9-1-1 was called.
Jared continued to cry, and Marla, Rich and the boys gathered around him and began to pray. Marla
laid her hand on Jared’s head as she prayed specifically for healing.
Ben and Brian did their best to help by announcing each emergency vehicle as it arrived. Chris was very upset and crying, first staying near Jared, then hiding in the house as rescuers arrived. Police officers arrived, then Monson Fire Department EMTs came on the scene and quickly immobilized him on a backboard. As they were strapping him in, Jared suddenly cried out “Ow, it’s burning!” and grabbed at his forehead. After this he was more calm and subdued.
Marla rode with him in the ambulance on the 25-minute trip to Bay state Medical Center in Springfield, while Rich followed with the boys in the van. On the way, Jared became less and less responsive and then fell asleep. Was he exhausted from crying and missing his nap? Or was this a sign of brain swelling? Concerned about this change, the EMTs tried to keep Jared awake and called for a paramedic unit to meet them on the way to the hospital.
Jared’s left eye was now totally swollen shut, bulging from the bleeding behind the eyelid, and scowling a dark, angry purple.
A paramedic unit from Ludlow Fire Department met up with the ambulance, and the medic started an IV, hooked up a heart monitor, and gave other advanced life-support care. Knowing that everything was being done that could be done, Marla was able to let her tears flow. As a pediatric nurse, she had cared for many children with head trauma and was well aware of the potential for a devastating outcome.
At the ER Jared was scanned, X-rayed, poked and prodded. His brothers got to see Jared, and had their many questions answered by the excellent Child Life staff person. Chris was afraid Jared would be operated on and was very relieved to find no surgery was needed. Jared was diagnosed with a non-displaced skull fracture over the left eye, extending into the eye socket.
Thankfully the doctors could detect no bleeding in the brain. He was admitted for observation and, after finding a bed on the pediatric unit, he quickly fell into an exhausted sleep. Uncle Rich took the
other three boys to his house overnight and left a message on Chip’s cell phone with details of the accident.
Chip landed at the airport at 10:30 p.m. and got the message off his cell phone. It was a quick trip up I-91 to Bay state, all the while making phone calls to
mobilize prayer support. Chip walked onto the pediatric floor to find Jared asleep, being cuddled by Marla. His left eye was bulging, black
and blue, so swollen the lashes were out of sight. He had a three-inch circular abrasion on his forehead, scrapes on his face and left ear, and an IV slowly dripping into his arm. Marla slept in the bed with him, and he was being awakened hourly to check responsiveness. Interestingly, Jared never
complained of pain.
We prayed over him. He awakened around 1:00 a.m. and spoke clearly with Marla about the entire incident. Marla felt her worries melting away, replaced with a peace and assurance that Jared would be okay.
By the next afternoon his spirits had improved. He got to play with toys and ride a tricycle around the pediatric unit. Uncle Rich brought the three other boys to visit, and Grandma and Grandpa drove up to see him. By late Sunday afternoon the pediophthalmologist pronounced him fit for discharge, and he was home for dinner.
The swelling should have taken about a week to disappear, but it was nearly gone in three days. His bruising could have taken two to three weeks to fully disappear, but it was gone in one week. We were amazed at his quick recovery.
We know that with God involved we should not have been surprised, but it was rather incredible to see the healing!
As a family, we all read “Curious George Goes to the Hospital” and Jared recognized many things from his experience—nurses, name bracelets,
X-ray machines, the tricycles, and the IV. It was a good way for him to talk about his experience and compare what happened to him with what “George”
went through. It was also good for the brothers to see what happened to George and learn that the same things had happened to Jared, lessoning the mystery of “behind closed doors.”
In follow-up exams, Jared was found to have no lasting injury of any kind. We thank God for many things! The fall could easily have injured Jared much more severely, but it didn’t. We had quick responses from competent professional caregivers up and down the chain. Modern medicine was able to quickly dispel fears about the severity of the head injury. Our family was supportive and involved throughout. Rich (who is a single guy) cared for Jared’s three brothers by himself for an extra day and made the key phone calls to Chip and family. We had prayer chains working overtime across the country. Pastor Jey and Joan Deifell personally checked on Jared’s progress about every four hours. God’s spirit worked mightily through the body.
In hindsight, we believe God healed Jared before he was put in the ambulance. Remember Jared saying “Ow, it’s burning?” There are many reports of spiritual healing associated with heat or a burning sensation. At the time, Jared’s cries seemed to be indicating further injury—but we believe
God was healing Jared and then allowed him to fall into a restful sleep in the ambulance.
When we got to the hospital, his left eye was swollen shut, but when the doctor pried the lids apart to check it, both eyes were, miraculously, in perfect alignment. The doctor was baffled by this change from what Marla and the EMTs reported.
Despite his confirmed skull fracture, Jared didn’t complain of pain—but it all makes sense: God was there in power. We believe the relatively minor extent of Jared’s injuries and his fast and
full recovery are due to guardian angels, God’s intervention, and answers to prayer. He is able! He hears and responds! He cares for us! Thank You, Jesus.
Chip and Marla Darius
Cromwell, Connecticut.
Copyright Thanks Be, First Church of Christ, Wethersfield, Ct.
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Free Book Offer
Week of November 28
Finally a Go Figure book is in print. This prototype is "Go Figure Sarasota/Manatee."
These 33 true storie come from people now living in these two counties in Florida.
The book is available on Amazon.com.
As we get more stories from other areas we will consider printing them. If you have a Go Figure story you are willing to share e-mail us at Go Figure America@Yahoo.com. We'll send you a free copy when it is published.
By the way, we launched the book at an evening fellowship outside our church in Sarasota. No sooner had we placed the books on a table it started to springle and then rain. People were scrambling for shelter. I prayed... God this book honors You...don't rain on your parade. The rain stopped almost immediately. Go Figure!
Belated Happy Thanksgiving to all.
R.M.Salter
Sarasota Fl.
Finally a Go Figure book is in print. This prototype is "Go Figure Sarasota/Manatee."
These 33 true storie come from people now living in these two counties in Florida.
The book is available on Amazon.com.
As we get more stories from other areas we will consider printing them. If you have a Go Figure story you are willing to share e-mail us at Go Figure America@Yahoo.com. We'll send you a free copy when it is published.
By the way, we launched the book at an evening fellowship outside our church in Sarasota. No sooner had we placed the books on a table it started to springle and then rain. People were scrambling for shelter. I prayed... God this book honors You...don't rain on your parade. The rain stopped almost immediately. Go Figure!
Belated Happy Thanksgiving to all.
R.M.Salter
Sarasota Fl.
Sunday, November 21, 2010
In God's Strength
Week of November 21
“And He said unto me, My grace is sufficient for thee: for My strength is made perfect in weakness.” (2 Corinthians 12:9)
My husband had always planned to do a eulogy when his father died. But he always wondered if he could- not because of poor speaking talents in front of a crowd-he was concerned he would break down and not be able to go on, causing embarrassment.
When he first viewed his Dad lying in the coffin, he broke down completely and just walked away sobbing, all the while saying to himself, how can I do a eulogy for this man? I’ll never get through it.
He went to bed that night with the funeral staring him in the face the next day. He woke up at 2:00 a.m. and started to pray-"Lord, I really want to do this eulogy-please help me." He woke up every hour on the hour and kept praying the same prayer.
When he viewed his Dad later that morning, prior to the coffin being closed, he broke down again. He went off into a room to be by himself, asking God why He had let him down-hadn’t he asked all night for the grace and strength, and where was it?
Following the mass, my niece was to give the first eulogy, and Ron was supposed to follow her. He told my niece he would give the thumbs-up sign- or the thumbs-down if he felt he could not do it.
God is faithful! My husband received such a surge of power and strength during my niece’s eulogy that he gave her the thumbs-up sign, walked up and gave a ten-minute eulogy without a note in his hand. The words just flowed! When he was finished, he received resounding applause.
At the luncheon following the service, family and friends kept telling Ron what a great job he had done and without notes no less. And Ron kept repeating the story in detail of how God came through for him when he needed His grace the most.
Judy and Ron
Summerfield, Florida
Reprinted with permission from Thanks Be, First Church of Christ,Wethersfield, Connecticut
“And He said unto me, My grace is sufficient for thee: for My strength is made perfect in weakness.” (2 Corinthians 12:9)
My husband had always planned to do a eulogy when his father died. But he always wondered if he could- not because of poor speaking talents in front of a crowd-he was concerned he would break down and not be able to go on, causing embarrassment.
When he first viewed his Dad lying in the coffin, he broke down completely and just walked away sobbing, all the while saying to himself, how can I do a eulogy for this man? I’ll never get through it.
He went to bed that night with the funeral staring him in the face the next day. He woke up at 2:00 a.m. and started to pray-"Lord, I really want to do this eulogy-please help me." He woke up every hour on the hour and kept praying the same prayer.
When he viewed his Dad later that morning, prior to the coffin being closed, he broke down again. He went off into a room to be by himself, asking God why He had let him down-hadn’t he asked all night for the grace and strength, and where was it?
Following the mass, my niece was to give the first eulogy, and Ron was supposed to follow her. He told my niece he would give the thumbs-up sign- or the thumbs-down if he felt he could not do it.
God is faithful! My husband received such a surge of power and strength during my niece’s eulogy that he gave her the thumbs-up sign, walked up and gave a ten-minute eulogy without a note in his hand. The words just flowed! When he was finished, he received resounding applause.
At the luncheon following the service, family and friends kept telling Ron what a great job he had done and without notes no less. And Ron kept repeating the story in detail of how God came through for him when he needed His grace the most.
Judy and Ron
Summerfield, Florida
Reprinted with permission from Thanks Be, First Church of Christ,Wethersfield, Connecticut
Saturday, November 6, 2010
Family Mystery
Week of November 7
It is one of those unexplained things in our family. Grandfather had come from his house on the Rhode Island shore to spend the better part of the week helping dad replace the front porch on our home near Providence. On the second day my grandfather announced he had to go home. My dad protested but ‘Papa’ was firm.
Papa didn’t know why, he just knew he had to get back to his wife, who was blind, and their adult daughter. My father reluctantly drove Papa to the bus station.
The next afternoon I stood on the unfinished porch with my dad watching the rain and wind blow by the house. At five and a half years old I was holding onto the porch railing and my dad was holding onto me. Suddenly, without making a sound, a tree in the lot across the street toppled over. It didn’t snap or crack it just blew over and was uprooted. Then another tree fell. My dad had seen enough and took me inside.
Dad gathered our family on the inside wall of the dining room, away from the windows while he stood in the opposite corner by the telephone. He called the fire department to discuss the large elm next to our house. While he was talking, we heard a thump and saw the massive tree fall past the window. A branch grazed the house but the main part of the tree fell harmlessly into our driveway.
We didn’t know it then but we were witnessing the destructive hurricane of 1938 that would claim 682 lives from Long Island, Providence and the Southern New England coastline. There was no radar in those days and there had been no warning of the approaching danger.
For two days after the hurricane my dad tried to reach Papa but the phone lines were down. Finally, on the third day my dad decided to drive. He told us later he didn’t realize how catastrophic this hurricane had been until he approached the ocean. Where there had been a row of homes there was now empty space. The road was obliterated in places by sand and he had to detour around large boats and wharfs left stranded in the middle of the roadway.
He finally arrived in Tiverton only to find that the Old Stone Bridge to Island Park where Papa lived was gone. Dad hitched a ride over by boat.
When he reached the island he found everything in shambles. Many of the buildings he was familiar with were gone or reduced to rubble and my dad was disoriented and in shock. There was so much devastation. A metal street sign still in place told him he was at Papa’s road. All the cottages on the street were crushed or gone, except one. There was Papa’s house still standing with minimal damage.
Papa said when he awoke the morning of the storm he saw the ominous clouds, and boarded up his house, including the cellar windows preventing water from flooding the house. Papa, gramdma and my aunt rode out the ferocious storm in that single story house that Papa had built himself.
What had produced that overwhelming urge for my grandfather to return home? He never tried to explain it. When asked how he knew he had to return home he would just shrug his shoulders.
“Something was telling me I had to go home,” was all that he would say. He just heeded the message. And it is well he did. Like my Papa, today I pay attention to any strong inner messages. I know the source.
“Whoever listens to me will dwell safely, and will be secure without fear of evil.” (Proverbs 1:33)
Jody Estes
East Providence, Rhode Island
It is one of those unexplained things in our family. Grandfather had come from his house on the Rhode Island shore to spend the better part of the week helping dad replace the front porch on our home near Providence. On the second day my grandfather announced he had to go home. My dad protested but ‘Papa’ was firm.
Papa didn’t know why, he just knew he had to get back to his wife, who was blind, and their adult daughter. My father reluctantly drove Papa to the bus station.
The next afternoon I stood on the unfinished porch with my dad watching the rain and wind blow by the house. At five and a half years old I was holding onto the porch railing and my dad was holding onto me. Suddenly, without making a sound, a tree in the lot across the street toppled over. It didn’t snap or crack it just blew over and was uprooted. Then another tree fell. My dad had seen enough and took me inside.
Dad gathered our family on the inside wall of the dining room, away from the windows while he stood in the opposite corner by the telephone. He called the fire department to discuss the large elm next to our house. While he was talking, we heard a thump and saw the massive tree fall past the window. A branch grazed the house but the main part of the tree fell harmlessly into our driveway.
We didn’t know it then but we were witnessing the destructive hurricane of 1938 that would claim 682 lives from Long Island, Providence and the Southern New England coastline. There was no radar in those days and there had been no warning of the approaching danger.
For two days after the hurricane my dad tried to reach Papa but the phone lines were down. Finally, on the third day my dad decided to drive. He told us later he didn’t realize how catastrophic this hurricane had been until he approached the ocean. Where there had been a row of homes there was now empty space. The road was obliterated in places by sand and he had to detour around large boats and wharfs left stranded in the middle of the roadway.
He finally arrived in Tiverton only to find that the Old Stone Bridge to Island Park where Papa lived was gone. Dad hitched a ride over by boat.
When he reached the island he found everything in shambles. Many of the buildings he was familiar with were gone or reduced to rubble and my dad was disoriented and in shock. There was so much devastation. A metal street sign still in place told him he was at Papa’s road. All the cottages on the street were crushed or gone, except one. There was Papa’s house still standing with minimal damage.
Papa said when he awoke the morning of the storm he saw the ominous clouds, and boarded up his house, including the cellar windows preventing water from flooding the house. Papa, gramdma and my aunt rode out the ferocious storm in that single story house that Papa had built himself.
What had produced that overwhelming urge for my grandfather to return home? He never tried to explain it. When asked how he knew he had to return home he would just shrug his shoulders.
“Something was telling me I had to go home,” was all that he would say. He just heeded the message. And it is well he did. Like my Papa, today I pay attention to any strong inner messages. I know the source.
“Whoever listens to me will dwell safely, and will be secure without fear of evil.” (Proverbs 1:33)
Jody Estes
East Providence, Rhode Island
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Trusting God
Week of October 31
It had been 16 years since I visited any gynecologist. I had no problems up until last year. I had been having irregular bleeding and heavy periods. I had several tests.... and they found that I had fibroids and a cyst on my ovary. My doctor suggested in November a full hysterectomy.
This would be my 5th surgery where they would be cutting my abdomen so I would have to sign a paper that I understand that there is more risk involved. I asked about keeping my ovaries so that I wouldn’t go into full menopause. My doctor said given my age and the cyst (that may require surgery to be removed in the future) she recommended taking everything. So she told me to let her know what I wanted to do.
I struggled with this until the day before my scheduled surgery, January 30.I had asked the Lord over and over again if I am doing the right thing. To be honest with you I was afraid. It was a pride issue also. I didn’t want anyone to know, because it could look as though I was weak or defeated. I chose not to tell anyone but my family.
I had these thoughts that were not of God that were telling me that things would not go right and I would die on the operating table. I was upset and I
was up late at night worrying. I picked up the Bible looking for an answer. I went to several church services seeking solace but the negative thoughts just continued worse than ever. It was like the more positive I received the more negative I became. This whole thing was overwhelming. Pastor always says that the battle is in the mind. Let me tell you what was going on in my head was a war.
I had decided that I would go to women's group and afterwards I would call the doctor to tell her I decided to delay the surgery. But when I went to women's group Sandy who has
always been such a comfort to me and my family, praying for us etc., came up to me and told me she was happy to see me there and asked me if I would be now able to come on Tuesdays. I told her what was going on and she began to talk and I knew the Lord was speaking to me through her because a peace and comfort came on me. The attacks immediately stopped. Sharon prayed for me and I was relaxed and knew what I had to do and it was right. I would have the operation.
Everything went extremely well in surgery and I was up walking in 8 hours, I went home two days later. When I was in the hospital I had such comfort knowing that Jesus was there with me. The nursing staff commented on how fast I was up and walking
and I knew that it was the Lord giving me the ability to get around so quickly.
When I returned a week later to have the staples removed my doctor shared what she didn’t want to tell me on the telephone. She said they tested everything that was taken out and found that I
had cancerous cells in the body of my uterus. This is an extremely fast growing cancer. Every time the uterus sheds, the cancer grows and starts spreading into the blood. The recommended procedure for this is a full hysterectomy. What they found was that the cancerous cells were still intact and were concentrated in one area of the uterus
My doctor told me that I was a lucky woman that someone was watching over me. I said I know God is. She said you are cured. She kept saying that over and over. We cried and held one another.
My doctor had no idea that the cancer cells were there. I asked her why it wasn't seen on all the tests. She said that where it was located no test would have detected it. I cried even more. If I had not had this operation I would be looking at 5-6 months, that’s all.
If my doctor had not taken my ovaries she would have had to go back in and get them. When cancer is present the best operation is actually cutting your abdomen (what I had) because when they do the other surgery there is a risk of dropping cells.
What an awesome God we have. Not only did He heal me of something that would have killed me but also He didn't even let me know that I had it and my family never had to go through that worry and anguish. I do not have to know everything. I just have to trust Him. No glory can be given to any test or doctor but only to God because He knew and no one else did. I am so grateful words can’t describe.
Jackie Harmon
Richmond ,Virginia
It had been 16 years since I visited any gynecologist. I had no problems up until last year. I had been having irregular bleeding and heavy periods. I had several tests.... and they found that I had fibroids and a cyst on my ovary. My doctor suggested in November a full hysterectomy.
This would be my 5th surgery where they would be cutting my abdomen so I would have to sign a paper that I understand that there is more risk involved. I asked about keeping my ovaries so that I wouldn’t go into full menopause. My doctor said given my age and the cyst (that may require surgery to be removed in the future) she recommended taking everything. So she told me to let her know what I wanted to do.
I struggled with this until the day before my scheduled surgery, January 30.I had asked the Lord over and over again if I am doing the right thing. To be honest with you I was afraid. It was a pride issue also. I didn’t want anyone to know, because it could look as though I was weak or defeated. I chose not to tell anyone but my family.
I had these thoughts that were not of God that were telling me that things would not go right and I would die on the operating table. I was upset and I
was up late at night worrying. I picked up the Bible looking for an answer. I went to several church services seeking solace but the negative thoughts just continued worse than ever. It was like the more positive I received the more negative I became. This whole thing was overwhelming. Pastor always says that the battle is in the mind. Let me tell you what was going on in my head was a war.
I had decided that I would go to women's group and afterwards I would call the doctor to tell her I decided to delay the surgery. But when I went to women's group Sandy who has
always been such a comfort to me and my family, praying for us etc., came up to me and told me she was happy to see me there and asked me if I would be now able to come on Tuesdays. I told her what was going on and she began to talk and I knew the Lord was speaking to me through her because a peace and comfort came on me. The attacks immediately stopped. Sharon prayed for me and I was relaxed and knew what I had to do and it was right. I would have the operation.
Everything went extremely well in surgery and I was up walking in 8 hours, I went home two days later. When I was in the hospital I had such comfort knowing that Jesus was there with me. The nursing staff commented on how fast I was up and walking
and I knew that it was the Lord giving me the ability to get around so quickly.
When I returned a week later to have the staples removed my doctor shared what she didn’t want to tell me on the telephone. She said they tested everything that was taken out and found that I
had cancerous cells in the body of my uterus. This is an extremely fast growing cancer. Every time the uterus sheds, the cancer grows and starts spreading into the blood. The recommended procedure for this is a full hysterectomy. What they found was that the cancerous cells were still intact and were concentrated in one area of the uterus
My doctor told me that I was a lucky woman that someone was watching over me. I said I know God is. She said you are cured. She kept saying that over and over. We cried and held one another.
My doctor had no idea that the cancer cells were there. I asked her why it wasn't seen on all the tests. She said that where it was located no test would have detected it. I cried even more. If I had not had this operation I would be looking at 5-6 months, that’s all.
If my doctor had not taken my ovaries she would have had to go back in and get them. When cancer is present the best operation is actually cutting your abdomen (what I had) because when they do the other surgery there is a risk of dropping cells.
What an awesome God we have. Not only did He heal me of something that would have killed me but also He didn't even let me know that I had it and my family never had to go through that worry and anguish. I do not have to know everything. I just have to trust Him. No glory can be given to any test or doctor but only to God because He knew and no one else did. I am so grateful words can’t describe.
Jackie Harmon
Richmond ,Virginia
Saturday, October 23, 2010
Miracle Healings
Week of October 24
While in San Francisco I was ministering in a multi-ethnic church downtown. There were two deaf mute women who arrived late and I realized that God was going to touch them that day. When I prayed for them they both began speaking and each wept as she heard her own words for the first time.
"I can hear, I can hear!"
One woman was also blind. She had no optic nerve in her right eye. When I prayed for her, she received her sight.
During a previous meeting in Washington State I walked up to a woman and prophesied to her (without knowing her condition) that the Lord was going to heal her hips and knees. She laughed and said, "That's going to be hard, I have steel plates in my knees!" She ended up falling to the floor, laughing hysterically, and remained in that intermittent state for several hours. Five days later I received a phone call from the apostolic/pastoral leader of that region who indicated that the woman was completely healed!
Danny Steyne, apostolic leader, Mountain of Worship, Columbia, South Carolina
While in San Francisco I was ministering in a multi-ethnic church downtown. There were two deaf mute women who arrived late and I realized that God was going to touch them that day. When I prayed for them they both began speaking and each wept as she heard her own words for the first time.
"I can hear, I can hear!"
One woman was also blind. She had no optic nerve in her right eye. When I prayed for her, she received her sight.
During a previous meeting in Washington State I walked up to a woman and prophesied to her (without knowing her condition) that the Lord was going to heal her hips and knees. She laughed and said, "That's going to be hard, I have steel plates in my knees!" She ended up falling to the floor, laughing hysterically, and remained in that intermittent state for several hours. Five days later I received a phone call from the apostolic/pastoral leader of that region who indicated that the woman was completely healed!
Danny Steyne, apostolic leader, Mountain of Worship, Columbia, South Carolina
Sunday, October 17, 2010
The Lost Wallet
Week of October 17
Jim lost his wallet and that affected the whole family. It happened sometime Sunday although he didn’t realize he had misplaced his wallet until he was getting his things ready Sunday night for the morning commute.
He had washed two cars and detailed them Sunday afternoon so that was the first in place he looked. The rest of us started the search inside the house, starting with the obvious places like the nightstand by the bed and the buffet in the dining room. We progressed to feeling in the crevasses of the cushions on the couch and inside the levels of the Lazy Boy chair. Soon we were trashing the house. All was for naught.
Monday morning Jim drove off to work without his wallet and of course without his license, I prayed the wallet would be found. Monday night we resumed the search perhaps more frantically than the day before. Jim and the kids went out and checked the cars again and I looked around inside revisiting many of the same places I had searched before. No wallet. I prayed some more
Tuesday Jim was obviously still upset and began grumbling about the prospect of having to apply for a duplicate license and call the credit card companies to close the accounts. As he stood by
the door he said he was going to take my car this morning because the SUV was low on gas. I suggested we pray together, something we hadn’t done for awhile. So we did.
We didn’t ask that the wallet would be found but we praised the Lord for all that we did have confessing that we didn’t have to worry about these things but just give it all over to Him. I felt better after praying.
I walked him out to the car. As he opened the door he shouted, “There’s my wallet!”
I took a step forward and then I saw it too. It was on the floor in front of the back seat right in plain sight. He and the kids had searched both vehicles twice, most recently as last night. That wallet could not have been out in the open like that.
We looked at each other in disbelief. How did it get there? What if he hadn’t decided to take my car instead of his today?
Cathy Pansa
Shorewood, Illinois
Jim lost his wallet and that affected the whole family. It happened sometime Sunday although he didn’t realize he had misplaced his wallet until he was getting his things ready Sunday night for the morning commute.
He had washed two cars and detailed them Sunday afternoon so that was the first in place he looked. The rest of us started the search inside the house, starting with the obvious places like the nightstand by the bed and the buffet in the dining room. We progressed to feeling in the crevasses of the cushions on the couch and inside the levels of the Lazy Boy chair. Soon we were trashing the house. All was for naught.
Monday morning Jim drove off to work without his wallet and of course without his license, I prayed the wallet would be found. Monday night we resumed the search perhaps more frantically than the day before. Jim and the kids went out and checked the cars again and I looked around inside revisiting many of the same places I had searched before. No wallet. I prayed some more
Tuesday Jim was obviously still upset and began grumbling about the prospect of having to apply for a duplicate license and call the credit card companies to close the accounts. As he stood by
the door he said he was going to take my car this morning because the SUV was low on gas. I suggested we pray together, something we hadn’t done for awhile. So we did.
We didn’t ask that the wallet would be found but we praised the Lord for all that we did have confessing that we didn’t have to worry about these things but just give it all over to Him. I felt better after praying.
I walked him out to the car. As he opened the door he shouted, “There’s my wallet!”
I took a step forward and then I saw it too. It was on the floor in front of the back seat right in plain sight. He and the kids had searched both vehicles twice, most recently as last night. That wallet could not have been out in the open like that.
We looked at each other in disbelief. How did it get there? What if he hadn’t decided to take my car instead of his today?
Cathy Pansa
Shorewood, Illinois
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Sylvia's Fire
Week of October 10
The house seemed quieter than usual. Michael, my seventeen year old, had just left in the car for the store to return some soda cans and my mother, who lives with us, was away visiting my sister.
It was “Maddy” and I relaxing in the living room in the glow of the candlelight. “Maddy,” our miniature Schnauzer, was sprawled on the rug where he usually is when I’m in the room. I had no clue how this tranquil evening was about to change.
It was about nine on a work night so I decided to take my shower and get ready for bed.I normally take long showers but on this night I cut it short. I don’t know why but it is a good thing I did. As soon as I turned off the shower I heard the smoke alarms screaming and the dog scratching frantically at the bathroom door. I put on a pair of slacks, grabbed a towel and without thinking flung open the bathroom door. A thick wall of black smoke rushed in and I instinctively gasped—mistake. I choked, fell backward and fainted.
I don’t know what happened in the next minute or so. My first recollection is I’m standing outside, still wrapped in a towel staring at my house that is completely engulfed in flames. Maddy is with me barking frantically but I have no idea how either of us escaped that overpowering smoke. I ran to my neighbor’s house and Marcel took one look at the inferno behind me and called 911.
Michael had just left the store when he heard the sirens of the fire trucks. He pulled his car over to let the fire engines pass and as is his habit he raised his hand and offered a little prayer for those in distress. Little did he know that he was praying for his mother and his own house?
When the fireman arrived it seemed half the town was right behind them. The fire fighters did everything they could but the house was too far-gone. I never saw anything burn so quickly. Like many New England homes built in the 19th century the walls had been stuffed with newspapers and hay to provide insulation. Our old colonial went up like a tinderbox. All we could do was stand helplessly and watch our home burn.
A school friend of Mike’s pointed out an eerie sight. Framed in the window of an upstairs bedroom was the velvet portrait of Jesus hanging on the wall over Michael’s bed and illuminated by the flickering flames below.
We learned latter that the fire was started probably when the dog knocked over a candle on a table by the window that fell igniting a phone book left on the ataman. The window curtain caught on fire and the flames literally raced through the walls.
The next day, after spending a short night at my friend’s house, Michael and I returned to the ruins. There was only one wall standing. We found only two things not completely destroyed by the fire. One was a blanket my mother had crocheted although it reeked of smoke. The other was the framed portrait of Jesus that was still hanging on the one remaining wall.
When we took the portrait down there was no evidence of the fire. It didn’t even have a smoky smell to it. How do you explain that?
Sylvia Jarvis
Sturbridge, Massachusetts
The house seemed quieter than usual. Michael, my seventeen year old, had just left in the car for the store to return some soda cans and my mother, who lives with us, was away visiting my sister.
It was “Maddy” and I relaxing in the living room in the glow of the candlelight. “Maddy,” our miniature Schnauzer, was sprawled on the rug where he usually is when I’m in the room. I had no clue how this tranquil evening was about to change.
It was about nine on a work night so I decided to take my shower and get ready for bed.I normally take long showers but on this night I cut it short. I don’t know why but it is a good thing I did. As soon as I turned off the shower I heard the smoke alarms screaming and the dog scratching frantically at the bathroom door. I put on a pair of slacks, grabbed a towel and without thinking flung open the bathroom door. A thick wall of black smoke rushed in and I instinctively gasped—mistake. I choked, fell backward and fainted.
I don’t know what happened in the next minute or so. My first recollection is I’m standing outside, still wrapped in a towel staring at my house that is completely engulfed in flames. Maddy is with me barking frantically but I have no idea how either of us escaped that overpowering smoke. I ran to my neighbor’s house and Marcel took one look at the inferno behind me and called 911.
Michael had just left the store when he heard the sirens of the fire trucks. He pulled his car over to let the fire engines pass and as is his habit he raised his hand and offered a little prayer for those in distress. Little did he know that he was praying for his mother and his own house?
When the fireman arrived it seemed half the town was right behind them. The fire fighters did everything they could but the house was too far-gone. I never saw anything burn so quickly. Like many New England homes built in the 19th century the walls had been stuffed with newspapers and hay to provide insulation. Our old colonial went up like a tinderbox. All we could do was stand helplessly and watch our home burn.
A school friend of Mike’s pointed out an eerie sight. Framed in the window of an upstairs bedroom was the velvet portrait of Jesus hanging on the wall over Michael’s bed and illuminated by the flickering flames below.
We learned latter that the fire was started probably when the dog knocked over a candle on a table by the window that fell igniting a phone book left on the ataman. The window curtain caught on fire and the flames literally raced through the walls.
The next day, after spending a short night at my friend’s house, Michael and I returned to the ruins. There was only one wall standing. We found only two things not completely destroyed by the fire. One was a blanket my mother had crocheted although it reeked of smoke. The other was the framed portrait of Jesus that was still hanging on the one remaining wall.
When we took the portrait down there was no evidence of the fire. It didn’t even have a smoky smell to it. How do you explain that?
Sylvia Jarvis
Sturbridge, Massachusetts
Sunday, September 26, 2010
God's Guest List
Week of September 26
“Return home and show the great things God has done for you..” So he went his way and told throughout the whole city the great things Jesus had done for him.”Luke 8:39
Before setting out on my travels, I pray that God will allow at least one believer to cross my path. He has never disappointed me—the unexpected
believing strangers are always there.
A few years ago I wrote about some of my serendipitous “kisses”—and the saga
continues. Since then, I have met believers in the middle of a desert in Idaho, on a tiny island called Salt Cay, in a sports shop in Vermont and at
a coffee shop in San Francisco, to name a few. I have recently bought a small, purse-size blank book so I can have my “kisses” sign it, and I can
look them up in the Book of Life when I get to heaven. I call it “God’s Guest List.”
The latest “kisses” occurred during a recent trip to Phoenix. As I stood on the sidewalk of the Phoenix airport waiting for a cab, I met an attractive
African-American woman. She was on her way to a car rental place, and I asked her if she wanted to share a cab. “It’s not really on the way to your
hotel,” she told me. “That’s OK,” I replied. “I don’t mind going out of my way.” The cab attendant started yelling at me when I joined this woman,
since another cab had just pulled up. “I’m going with this woman, and you’re not going to tell me what to do,” I answered authoritatively.
During the ride, my new acquaintance confided she had no friends in Phoenix and that she was leaving her Congregational church friends and community in Chappaqua, New York. I remarked to her that God would bring her friends and suggested to pray for them—and find a church. We talked like old friends, and when she departed, I wouldn’t let her pay her fare, which intrigued our Somalian cab driver, considering I had just met her. I know he listened to our conversation and I hope that he saw Jesus Christ uniting us together. As I rode alone to my hotel, I knew then that my tenacity with the cab attendant was God-given. This woman needed encouragement!
Two days later, I sought relief for my muscles at the hotel spa. Many spas tend to embody the New Age philosophy, and this spa was no different.
“Lord,” I prayed, “protect me from this atmosphere.” I was ushered into a
room and was assigned a masseuse, an older German woman with a face that looked like she had gone through many trials. She inquired why I was at the hotel.
“To learn about Jesus Christ and how to follow Him in our everyday walk,” I responded.
“I love Jesus, too,” she replied. I then learned she
had recently moved to Phoenix after having been in a cult in Germany that pretended to be a Christian commune, but which had deceived her and taken
all her money.
She asked me to write down the titles of Christian books that would help her, and I gladly gave her a long list—along with the verses of Philippians
3:12-13, which would encourage her to forget what was in the past and press on toward the goal of knowing Christ. She hugged and kissed me, and her
weary face now blossomed with a smile. I left the spa feeling rejuvenated by the Holy Spirit.
Shopping, too, was invigorating. I went to a boutique to buy my aunt a birthday present, and within a few minutes, I found myself on the sidewalk talking with the owner and his wife. We discussed how the Lord was working
in the country; the National Prayer Breakfast; their minister son; believers in Phoenix—and who knows
what else. They were mature believers, and we had a wonderful time just enjoying each other.
But the trip was ending, and off to the airport I went with my family. As I walked past a sleeping shoeshine man, I noticed he had a Bible opened to
John 11, so I woke him up. “Fred, would you give me a shoe shine, please?”
“Hop up,” he said. “So, how long have you been a believer?” I questioned. “’Bout forty years,” he replied. “Forty years? That’s a long time,”
“Forty years? Naw, that’s nothin’! Think of Moses in the wilderness. Why, it’s not even a twinkle in eternity.”
The way he said that brought laughter to my soul. My laughter made him laugh, and we had a grand time. After kidding me about my small feet, he promised to pray for me at his prayer meeting that night. I promised to do the same for him, wherever I happened to be.
I later looked up John 11 and read in verses 25 and 26: “I am the resurrection and the Life. He who believes in Me will live, even though he
dies, and whoever lives and believes in Me will never die. Do you believe in Me?” Did Fred just happen to be reading John 11, or was he ready with
words of life for any patron who would listen? Only God knows.
I find it amusing, thinking about the scurrying “travel agents” of God, arranging not only my itinerary, but the itinerary of other believers. Why
would God do such a thing? To bless only me? He does that anyway, even when I’m home. Rather, the answer to “Why?” is so He can bless others.
In relating some of the above meetings to David Gilbert, (church administrator) he encouraged me to
write these recollections down and gave me the Luke 8:39 verse. The man who had demons cast out of him by Jesus was told to tell others what God had
done for him. The healing was not just for the man, but for others—so that they would receive encouragement in their faith. So, thanks to the
encouragement of David, I’m “paying it forward” to the readers of this article so that you, too, will be blessed and encouraged to look for lovers of Jesus wherever and whenever you travel. “Kisses” are waiting for your collection, and God’s guests are waiting for your acquaintance.
Sandra Ulbrich
Durham, Connecticut
Copyright Thanks Be, First Church of Christ, Wethersfield, Connecticut
“Return home and show the great things God has done for you..” So he went his way and told throughout the whole city the great things Jesus had done for him.”Luke 8:39
Before setting out on my travels, I pray that God will allow at least one believer to cross my path. He has never disappointed me—the unexpected
believing strangers are always there.
A few years ago I wrote about some of my serendipitous “kisses”—and the saga
continues. Since then, I have met believers in the middle of a desert in Idaho, on a tiny island called Salt Cay, in a sports shop in Vermont and at
a coffee shop in San Francisco, to name a few. I have recently bought a small, purse-size blank book so I can have my “kisses” sign it, and I can
look them up in the Book of Life when I get to heaven. I call it “God’s Guest List.”
The latest “kisses” occurred during a recent trip to Phoenix. As I stood on the sidewalk of the Phoenix airport waiting for a cab, I met an attractive
African-American woman. She was on her way to a car rental place, and I asked her if she wanted to share a cab. “It’s not really on the way to your
hotel,” she told me. “That’s OK,” I replied. “I don’t mind going out of my way.” The cab attendant started yelling at me when I joined this woman,
since another cab had just pulled up. “I’m going with this woman, and you’re not going to tell me what to do,” I answered authoritatively.
During the ride, my new acquaintance confided she had no friends in Phoenix and that she was leaving her Congregational church friends and community in Chappaqua, New York. I remarked to her that God would bring her friends and suggested to pray for them—and find a church. We talked like old friends, and when she departed, I wouldn’t let her pay her fare, which intrigued our Somalian cab driver, considering I had just met her. I know he listened to our conversation and I hope that he saw Jesus Christ uniting us together. As I rode alone to my hotel, I knew then that my tenacity with the cab attendant was God-given. This woman needed encouragement!
Two days later, I sought relief for my muscles at the hotel spa. Many spas tend to embody the New Age philosophy, and this spa was no different.
“Lord,” I prayed, “protect me from this atmosphere.” I was ushered into a
room and was assigned a masseuse, an older German woman with a face that looked like she had gone through many trials. She inquired why I was at the hotel.
“To learn about Jesus Christ and how to follow Him in our everyday walk,” I responded.
“I love Jesus, too,” she replied. I then learned she
had recently moved to Phoenix after having been in a cult in Germany that pretended to be a Christian commune, but which had deceived her and taken
all her money.
She asked me to write down the titles of Christian books that would help her, and I gladly gave her a long list—along with the verses of Philippians
3:12-13, which would encourage her to forget what was in the past and press on toward the goal of knowing Christ. She hugged and kissed me, and her
weary face now blossomed with a smile. I left the spa feeling rejuvenated by the Holy Spirit.
Shopping, too, was invigorating. I went to a boutique to buy my aunt a birthday present, and within a few minutes, I found myself on the sidewalk talking with the owner and his wife. We discussed how the Lord was working
in the country; the National Prayer Breakfast; their minister son; believers in Phoenix—and who knows
what else. They were mature believers, and we had a wonderful time just enjoying each other.
But the trip was ending, and off to the airport I went with my family. As I walked past a sleeping shoeshine man, I noticed he had a Bible opened to
John 11, so I woke him up. “Fred, would you give me a shoe shine, please?”
“Hop up,” he said. “So, how long have you been a believer?” I questioned. “’Bout forty years,” he replied. “Forty years? That’s a long time,”
“Forty years? Naw, that’s nothin’! Think of Moses in the wilderness. Why, it’s not even a twinkle in eternity.”
The way he said that brought laughter to my soul. My laughter made him laugh, and we had a grand time. After kidding me about my small feet, he promised to pray for me at his prayer meeting that night. I promised to do the same for him, wherever I happened to be.
I later looked up John 11 and read in verses 25 and 26: “I am the resurrection and the Life. He who believes in Me will live, even though he
dies, and whoever lives and believes in Me will never die. Do you believe in Me?” Did Fred just happen to be reading John 11, or was he ready with
words of life for any patron who would listen? Only God knows.
I find it amusing, thinking about the scurrying “travel agents” of God, arranging not only my itinerary, but the itinerary of other believers. Why
would God do such a thing? To bless only me? He does that anyway, even when I’m home. Rather, the answer to “Why?” is so He can bless others.
In relating some of the above meetings to David Gilbert, (church administrator) he encouraged me to
write these recollections down and gave me the Luke 8:39 verse. The man who had demons cast out of him by Jesus was told to tell others what God had
done for him. The healing was not just for the man, but for others—so that they would receive encouragement in their faith. So, thanks to the
encouragement of David, I’m “paying it forward” to the readers of this article so that you, too, will be blessed and encouraged to look for lovers of Jesus wherever and whenever you travel. “Kisses” are waiting for your collection, and God’s guests are waiting for your acquaintance.
Sandra Ulbrich
Durham, Connecticut
Copyright Thanks Be, First Church of Christ, Wethersfield, Connecticut
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Pray Specifically
Week of September 19
She is introduced as Ms Julie. You don’t use last names when you are running. She rode a bus to Florida with one suitcase and the clothes on her back. She had been directed to a shelter for abused women and given a meal. The next morning she went looking for employment.
“I was able to wait on tables and within a couple of weeks I had enough tips to rent a small apartment. What I really needed was a car to go on interviews and find a better job. So I prayed very specifically for a four-door Camry (she had had one once) so I could take people to church with me. I wanted a clean beige or brown car.
“A few days later I received a call from a caring organization that donates used cars to needy people. They had heard of my plight and called to say they had a car for me.
“When I arrived to pickup my car I was told the donor had taken it to a car wash. A few minutes later a car entered the parking lot and I knew it was a prayer answered.
It was a gift from God. It was a sparkling beige four-door Camry.”
Ms Julie
New York, New York
She is introduced as Ms Julie. You don’t use last names when you are running. She rode a bus to Florida with one suitcase and the clothes on her back. She had been directed to a shelter for abused women and given a meal. The next morning she went looking for employment.
“I was able to wait on tables and within a couple of weeks I had enough tips to rent a small apartment. What I really needed was a car to go on interviews and find a better job. So I prayed very specifically for a four-door Camry (she had had one once) so I could take people to church with me. I wanted a clean beige or brown car.
“A few days later I received a call from a caring organization that donates used cars to needy people. They had heard of my plight and called to say they had a car for me.
“When I arrived to pickup my car I was told the donor had taken it to a car wash. A few minutes later a car entered the parking lot and I knew it was a prayer answered.
It was a gift from God. It was a sparkling beige four-door Camry.”
Ms Julie
New York, New York
Sunday, September 12, 2010
A Family Mystery
Week of September 12
It is one of those unexplained things in our family. Grandfather had come from his house on the Rhode Island shore to spend the better part of the week helping dad replace the front porch on our home in the city.. On the second day my grandfather announced he had to go home. My dad protested but ‘Papa’ was firm.
Papa didn’t know why, he just knew he had to get back to his wife, who was blind, and their adult daughter. My father reluctantly drove Papa to the bus station.
The next afternoon I stood on the unfinished porch with my dad watching the rain and wind blow by the house. At five and a half years old I was holding onto the porch railing and my dad was holding onto me. Suddenly, without making a sound, a tree in the lot across the street toppled over. It didn’t snap or crack it just blew over and was uprooted. Then another tree fell. My dad had seen enough and took me inside.
Dad gathered our family on the inside wall of the dining room, away from the windows while he stood in the opposite corner by the telephone. He called the fire department to discuss the large elm next to our house. While he was talking, we heard a thump and saw the massive tree fall past the window. A branch grazed the house but the main part of the tree fell harmlessly into our driveway.
We didn’t know it then but we were witnessing the destructive hurricane of 1938 that would claim 682 lives from Long Island, Providence and the Southern New England coastline. There was no radar in those days and there had been no warning of the approaching danger.
For two days after the hurricane my dad tried to reach Papa the phone lines were down. Finally, on the third day my dad decided to drive. He told us later he didn’t realize how catastrophic this hurricane had been until he approached the ocean. The road was obliterated in places by sand and he had to detour around large boats and wharfs left stranded in the middle of the roadway.
He finally arrived in Tiverton only to find that the Old Stone Bridge to Island Park was gone. He hitched a ride over by boat.
When he reached the island he found everything in shambles. Many of the buildings he was familiar with were gone or reduced to rubble and my dad was disoriented and in shock. There was so much devastation. A metal street sign still in place told him he was at Papa’s road. All the cottages on the street were crushed or gone, except one. There was Papa’s house still standing with minimal damage.
Papa said when he awoke the morning of the storm he saw the ominous clouds, and boarded up his house, including the cellar windows preventing water from flooding the house. Papa, gramdma and my aunt rode out the ferocious storm in that single story house that Papa had built himself.
What had produced that overwhelming urge for my grandfather to return home? He never tried to explain it. When asked how he knew he had to return home he would just shrug his shoulders.
“Something was telling me I had to go home,” was all that he would say. He just heeded the message. And it is well he did. Like my Papa, today I pay attention to any strong inner messages. I know the source.
“Whoever listens to me will dwell safely, and will be secure without fear of evil.” (Proverbs 1:33)
Jody Estes
Providence, Rhode Island
It is one of those unexplained things in our family. Grandfather had come from his house on the Rhode Island shore to spend the better part of the week helping dad replace the front porch on our home in the city.. On the second day my grandfather announced he had to go home. My dad protested but ‘Papa’ was firm.
Papa didn’t know why, he just knew he had to get back to his wife, who was blind, and their adult daughter. My father reluctantly drove Papa to the bus station.
The next afternoon I stood on the unfinished porch with my dad watching the rain and wind blow by the house. At five and a half years old I was holding onto the porch railing and my dad was holding onto me. Suddenly, without making a sound, a tree in the lot across the street toppled over. It didn’t snap or crack it just blew over and was uprooted. Then another tree fell. My dad had seen enough and took me inside.
Dad gathered our family on the inside wall of the dining room, away from the windows while he stood in the opposite corner by the telephone. He called the fire department to discuss the large elm next to our house. While he was talking, we heard a thump and saw the massive tree fall past the window. A branch grazed the house but the main part of the tree fell harmlessly into our driveway.
We didn’t know it then but we were witnessing the destructive hurricane of 1938 that would claim 682 lives from Long Island, Providence and the Southern New England coastline. There was no radar in those days and there had been no warning of the approaching danger.
For two days after the hurricane my dad tried to reach Papa the phone lines were down. Finally, on the third day my dad decided to drive. He told us later he didn’t realize how catastrophic this hurricane had been until he approached the ocean. The road was obliterated in places by sand and he had to detour around large boats and wharfs left stranded in the middle of the roadway.
He finally arrived in Tiverton only to find that the Old Stone Bridge to Island Park was gone. He hitched a ride over by boat.
When he reached the island he found everything in shambles. Many of the buildings he was familiar with were gone or reduced to rubble and my dad was disoriented and in shock. There was so much devastation. A metal street sign still in place told him he was at Papa’s road. All the cottages on the street were crushed or gone, except one. There was Papa’s house still standing with minimal damage.
Papa said when he awoke the morning of the storm he saw the ominous clouds, and boarded up his house, including the cellar windows preventing water from flooding the house. Papa, gramdma and my aunt rode out the ferocious storm in that single story house that Papa had built himself.
What had produced that overwhelming urge for my grandfather to return home? He never tried to explain it. When asked how he knew he had to return home he would just shrug his shoulders.
“Something was telling me I had to go home,” was all that he would say. He just heeded the message. And it is well he did. Like my Papa, today I pay attention to any strong inner messages. I know the source.
“Whoever listens to me will dwell safely, and will be secure without fear of evil.” (Proverbs 1:33)
Jody Estes
Providence, Rhode Island
Sunday, September 5, 2010
Surprise Visitor
Week of September 5
The family had gathered for the funeral of my wife, their mother, mother-in law, grandmother or great grandmother as the case might be. Several of us were seated in the family room when the back door leading to the garage swung open.
A large dog, that none of us had seen before, came into the house as if he lived here. He walked through the kitchen, dinning room and down the hallway toward the bedrooms. My son-in-law Joe was cautiously followed him not sure what to make of this intruder. The dog was thin, but not starved, he had a collar but no identification tags and a long nose with graying hair.
At the end of the hall our visitor turned abruptly, walked past Joe and back through the dinning room and kitchen and entered into the family room where he proceeded to lay down between my recliner and the chair where my wife usually sat.
He made himself right at home. Everyone sat in stunned silence staring at him.
I looked down at the dog and ended the silence. “Mom always said, ‘Paul keep the garage door down and the back door locked. Otherwise anything could walk into this house.’ I guess she sent this guy to make her point.”
We were expecting a pastor to arrive at any minute so Joe led the dog outside by his collar. When Joe released him the dog made no attempt to leave. Joe sat on the front step and the dog joined him. They sat there together for several minutes. A cat ambled us the front walk and stopped when he saw the dog. Neither moved. Then the cat came up the rest of the walk and sat next to the dog. Joe, who lives in the neighborhood, had seen neither animal before. The cat stayed awhile and then walked away. The dog sat with Joe.
That evening Joe took the dog home with him fully intending to try and fine its owner in the morning. He put the dog in the garage for the night with some water.
The next morning he fed the dog and then let him out in the yard with his own smaller dogs. The three seem to get along fine. Then the stranger dog walked to the edge of the property, looked back at Joe as if to say farewell and walked away.
None of us have seen that dog since.
You can read in to this. Go figure.
Paul Tuck
Newfield N.J.
The family had gathered for the funeral of my wife, their mother, mother-in law, grandmother or great grandmother as the case might be. Several of us were seated in the family room when the back door leading to the garage swung open.
A large dog, that none of us had seen before, came into the house as if he lived here. He walked through the kitchen, dinning room and down the hallway toward the bedrooms. My son-in-law Joe was cautiously followed him not sure what to make of this intruder. The dog was thin, but not starved, he had a collar but no identification tags and a long nose with graying hair.
At the end of the hall our visitor turned abruptly, walked past Joe and back through the dinning room and kitchen and entered into the family room where he proceeded to lay down between my recliner and the chair where my wife usually sat.
He made himself right at home. Everyone sat in stunned silence staring at him.
I looked down at the dog and ended the silence. “Mom always said, ‘Paul keep the garage door down and the back door locked. Otherwise anything could walk into this house.’ I guess she sent this guy to make her point.”
We were expecting a pastor to arrive at any minute so Joe led the dog outside by his collar. When Joe released him the dog made no attempt to leave. Joe sat on the front step and the dog joined him. They sat there together for several minutes. A cat ambled us the front walk and stopped when he saw the dog. Neither moved. Then the cat came up the rest of the walk and sat next to the dog. Joe, who lives in the neighborhood, had seen neither animal before. The cat stayed awhile and then walked away. The dog sat with Joe.
That evening Joe took the dog home with him fully intending to try and fine its owner in the morning. He put the dog in the garage for the night with some water.
The next morning he fed the dog and then let him out in the yard with his own smaller dogs. The three seem to get along fine. Then the stranger dog walked to the edge of the property, looked back at Joe as if to say farewell and walked away.
None of us have seen that dog since.
You can read in to this. Go figure.
Paul Tuck
Newfield N.J.
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Retreat Center
Week of August 29
Bill and Cindy are a wonderful Christian couple. For years Bill has taught Latin in the Manchester Public School System. Cindy was a youth counselor when she first met Bill. They are married, have six children and are running a retreat center in Hebron, Connecticut called Mary's Field.
The Pfeiffers have a modest home for themselves and their children. Despite having a large family they opened their home to unwed pregnant girls who had nowhere to go and wanted to deliver their babies. The family agreed on the need to find a separate place for Mary's Field and expand its reach to anyone seeking deeper spiritual meaning.
Bill said the whole family discussed what an ideal center would look like. Each of the children had things they wanted. The younger children wanted an indoor pool to swim in year round and not have to worry about leaves or cold weather. The youngest boy wanted "a neat robot thing that cleans the pool." One teenager wanted a tennis court and another a jute box. Bill wished for a room large enough to house a small chapel and Cindy visualized a spacious kitchen suitable for volunteers to prepare meals for groups.
Bill, an ordained priest, lead the family in prayer and presented these requests to the Lord. Bill then suggested to the children that they give up something they like, to show their seriousness in making these prayer requests. The children decide to give up watching television.
Almost a year goes by. No television. No retreat center. “Then came God's answer,” Bill said. Bill receives a call from a Mary’s Field board member who reports a local bank had foreclosed on an estate. A developer had built the mansion as his personal residence during the real estate boom of the early 1980’s. The housing bubble burst, the developer had committed suicide and the bank was left with the property. It has been vacant for more than a year and the bank “is anxious to unload this white elephant.”
The Pfeiffer family went to take a look. A long secluded driveway leads into the property that includes 23 acres, mostly wooded. A large two-story house sits on a hill overlooking woods and a pond. In front of the house there is a paved area for parking and a lawn with a flagpole. Adjacent to the house is a hard surface tennis court and down the hill is a carriage house large enough to serve as a chapel.
The sprawling contemporary house has a rustic interior with four bedrooms, three baths, and a spacious dining room off of a large kitchen that is suitable for cooking for groups.
There is an indoor pool and yes, it is equipped with a self-cleaning robot. One thing the Pfeiffers hadn't requested was a party room with a built in wet bar. However, in one corner of this room stands a shiny jute box.
"And whatever things you ask in prayer, believing, you will receive." (Matthew 21:22)
Bill Pfeiffer
Hebron Connecticut
Bill and Cindy are a wonderful Christian couple. For years Bill has taught Latin in the Manchester Public School System. Cindy was a youth counselor when she first met Bill. They are married, have six children and are running a retreat center in Hebron, Connecticut called Mary's Field.
The Pfeiffers have a modest home for themselves and their children. Despite having a large family they opened their home to unwed pregnant girls who had nowhere to go and wanted to deliver their babies. The family agreed on the need to find a separate place for Mary's Field and expand its reach to anyone seeking deeper spiritual meaning.
Bill said the whole family discussed what an ideal center would look like. Each of the children had things they wanted. The younger children wanted an indoor pool to swim in year round and not have to worry about leaves or cold weather. The youngest boy wanted "a neat robot thing that cleans the pool." One teenager wanted a tennis court and another a jute box. Bill wished for a room large enough to house a small chapel and Cindy visualized a spacious kitchen suitable for volunteers to prepare meals for groups.
Bill, an ordained priest, lead the family in prayer and presented these requests to the Lord. Bill then suggested to the children that they give up something they like, to show their seriousness in making these prayer requests. The children decide to give up watching television.
Almost a year goes by. No television. No retreat center. “Then came God's answer,” Bill said. Bill receives a call from a Mary’s Field board member who reports a local bank had foreclosed on an estate. A developer had built the mansion as his personal residence during the real estate boom of the early 1980’s. The housing bubble burst, the developer had committed suicide and the bank was left with the property. It has been vacant for more than a year and the bank “is anxious to unload this white elephant.”
The Pfeiffer family went to take a look. A long secluded driveway leads into the property that includes 23 acres, mostly wooded. A large two-story house sits on a hill overlooking woods and a pond. In front of the house there is a paved area for parking and a lawn with a flagpole. Adjacent to the house is a hard surface tennis court and down the hill is a carriage house large enough to serve as a chapel.
The sprawling contemporary house has a rustic interior with four bedrooms, three baths, and a spacious dining room off of a large kitchen that is suitable for cooking for groups.
There is an indoor pool and yes, it is equipped with a self-cleaning robot. One thing the Pfeiffers hadn't requested was a party room with a built in wet bar. However, in one corner of this room stands a shiny jute box.
"And whatever things you ask in prayer, believing, you will receive." (Matthew 21:22)
Bill Pfeiffer
Hebron Connecticut
Saturday, August 21, 2010
Mriacle in Providence
Week of August 22
I was graduated from Holy Cross High School in Waterbury, Ct., Class of 1975. One of my best friends, Bobby Blacker heard there was going to be a faith healer appearing at the Providence Civic Center. A small group of us decide to make the trip from Waterbury to Providence Rhode Island to ask for a miracle of healing for Bobby’s brother who has been severely handicapped, physically and mentally, since birth.
The Providence Civic Center was packed by the time we got there. I couldn’t make it inside so I hung around one of the corner entrances hoping for a chance to get inside. Nearby a small group gathered in prayer.
I wandered over and listened to the young man who was leading the prayer. I also noticed a young woman standing in the circle who seemed to be pregnant but only on one side of her stomach. After the group prayed for some other people, the young woman spoke up and told the prayer leader that she had been suffering from a disease that had left a very large tumor in her abdomen. She said the doctors could not help her condition and she asked for healing prayers to be lifted up over her. I decided to join in the prayers.
The prayer leader placed his hands on her abdomen and the group prayed out loud and silently for Jesus to heal the woman. To my amazement I watched as the tumor began to shrink and her stomach begin to flatten out. It must have been about ten minutes that we prayed for the woman, and by the time it was over, she was weeping and thanking everyone because her tumor had vanished.
I did make it into the Civic Center that day before the rally was over. Bobby’s younger brother was not healed, but I had witnessed a miracle healing that day. Praise the Lord.
Paul Boiano
Vernon, Connecticut
I was graduated from Holy Cross High School in Waterbury, Ct., Class of 1975. One of my best friends, Bobby Blacker heard there was going to be a faith healer appearing at the Providence Civic Center. A small group of us decide to make the trip from Waterbury to Providence Rhode Island to ask for a miracle of healing for Bobby’s brother who has been severely handicapped, physically and mentally, since birth.
The Providence Civic Center was packed by the time we got there. I couldn’t make it inside so I hung around one of the corner entrances hoping for a chance to get inside. Nearby a small group gathered in prayer.
I wandered over and listened to the young man who was leading the prayer. I also noticed a young woman standing in the circle who seemed to be pregnant but only on one side of her stomach. After the group prayed for some other people, the young woman spoke up and told the prayer leader that she had been suffering from a disease that had left a very large tumor in her abdomen. She said the doctors could not help her condition and she asked for healing prayers to be lifted up over her. I decided to join in the prayers.
The prayer leader placed his hands on her abdomen and the group prayed out loud and silently for Jesus to heal the woman. To my amazement I watched as the tumor began to shrink and her stomach begin to flatten out. It must have been about ten minutes that we prayed for the woman, and by the time it was over, she was weeping and thanking everyone because her tumor had vanished.
I did make it into the Civic Center that day before the rally was over. Bobby’s younger brother was not healed, but I had witnessed a miracle healing that day. Praise the Lord.
Paul Boiano
Vernon, Connecticut
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Led by the Spirit
Week of August 15
Some people think I'm a stodgy, cranky, Yankee. Well, they are right-but that's how God restored me. I wasn't always so conservative.
I spent the sixties and seventies searching through drugs, radical politics, rebellion and anger. I spent my adolescence as a ski-bum, working on a
riverboat and looking for extremes. I rode motorcycles and did every reckless thing to excess. I believed that life was just an existential malaise of meaningless, random events and if there was no reason to life, I thought I would at least make it
exciting. I fought the system, institutions and all the things my generation rejected. I joined the SDS (Students for a Democratic Society) and I was tear gassed more than once. I tried a lot of things to fill that God-shaped vacuum at my center, but nothing fit. Atheism was my religion. Nothing meant anything in light of death.
Then things I couldn't explain began to happen. I bought a Bible and actually began reading it. God was laying the groundwork.
When I decided to get married, I chose the church to which my family had belonged for centuries- First Church of Christ, Wethersfield. In order to be
married there my fiancée and I had to join. The church preaches the Word of God in the Spirit.
My fiancée's relatives, who are from a long line of Christian evangelists in China, were praying for me. So were the faithful at First Church. I believe all these prayers prompted God to save me.
The Holy Spirit began to move. It was as though the Bible had been written solely for me. Every time I opened it, the passage I read spoke directly to my needs. Every church bulletin, letter or post card from church seemed to minister to me as though I was the only person for whom it had been written. Sermons seemed prepared just for me as did the worship. And I saw the Holy Spirit in people's faces at every church event. Jesus was everywhere.
One night I even had a dream that one of the pastors at the church told me "you will receive a message from your shoe." My cat awakened me, I got up, and went about dressing quietly. I remembered the dream and looked down at my shoes but there was
no message. I did notice my suit was wrinkled and changed into another, which was a different color than the first one. Now I had to change my shoe to match my suit. As I was leaving the house I noticed a sticky note stuck to the heel of my shoe. On the sticky note was a Bible verse. " I am the Vine, you are the branches, abide with me."
I've been to the peaks and struggled with valleys. I've had doubts and downs and faith and ups. God is slowly and I must say, painfully at times, remaking me in His Son’s image.
I know God is at work in me, both to will and to work for His good pleasure. He is crucifying my fleshly ways, as I learn to be led by the Spirit.
I am confident of this, "that He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus." (Philippians 1:6 NIV)
Jesus Christ saved me from myself. Praise God.
Leigh Standish
Wethersfield, Connecticut.
Some people think I'm a stodgy, cranky, Yankee. Well, they are right-but that's how God restored me. I wasn't always so conservative.
I spent the sixties and seventies searching through drugs, radical politics, rebellion and anger. I spent my adolescence as a ski-bum, working on a
riverboat and looking for extremes. I rode motorcycles and did every reckless thing to excess. I believed that life was just an existential malaise of meaningless, random events and if there was no reason to life, I thought I would at least make it
exciting. I fought the system, institutions and all the things my generation rejected. I joined the SDS (Students for a Democratic Society) and I was tear gassed more than once. I tried a lot of things to fill that God-shaped vacuum at my center, but nothing fit. Atheism was my religion. Nothing meant anything in light of death.
Then things I couldn't explain began to happen. I bought a Bible and actually began reading it. God was laying the groundwork.
When I decided to get married, I chose the church to which my family had belonged for centuries- First Church of Christ, Wethersfield. In order to be
married there my fiancée and I had to join. The church preaches the Word of God in the Spirit.
My fiancée's relatives, who are from a long line of Christian evangelists in China, were praying for me. So were the faithful at First Church. I believe all these prayers prompted God to save me.
The Holy Spirit began to move. It was as though the Bible had been written solely for me. Every time I opened it, the passage I read spoke directly to my needs. Every church bulletin, letter or post card from church seemed to minister to me as though I was the only person for whom it had been written. Sermons seemed prepared just for me as did the worship. And I saw the Holy Spirit in people's faces at every church event. Jesus was everywhere.
One night I even had a dream that one of the pastors at the church told me "you will receive a message from your shoe." My cat awakened me, I got up, and went about dressing quietly. I remembered the dream and looked down at my shoes but there was
no message. I did notice my suit was wrinkled and changed into another, which was a different color than the first one. Now I had to change my shoe to match my suit. As I was leaving the house I noticed a sticky note stuck to the heel of my shoe. On the sticky note was a Bible verse. " I am the Vine, you are the branches, abide with me."
I've been to the peaks and struggled with valleys. I've had doubts and downs and faith and ups. God is slowly and I must say, painfully at times, remaking me in His Son’s image.
I know God is at work in me, both to will and to work for His good pleasure. He is crucifying my fleshly ways, as I learn to be led by the Spirit.
I am confident of this, "that He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus." (Philippians 1:6 NIV)
Jesus Christ saved me from myself. Praise God.
Leigh Standish
Wethersfield, Connecticut.
Monday, August 9, 2010
The Lost Wallet
Week of August 9
Jim lost his wallet and that affected the whole family. It happened sometime Sunday although he didn’t realize he had misplaced his wallet until he was getting his things ready Sunday night for the morning commute.
He had washed two cars and detailed them Sunday afternoon so that was the first place he looked. The rest of us started the search inside the house, starting with the obvious places like the nightstand by the bed and the buffet in the dining room. We progressed to feeling in the crevasses of the cushions on the couch and inside the levels of the Lazy Boy chair. Soon we were trashing the house. All was for naught.
Monday morning Jim drove off to work without his wallet and of course without his license, I prayed the wallet would be found. Monday night we resumed the search perhaps more frantically than the day before. Jim and the kids went out and checked the cars again and I looked around inside revisiting many of the same places I had searched before. No wallet. I prayed some more
Tuesday Jim was obviously still upset and began grumbling about the prospect of having to apply for a duplicate license and call the credit card companies to close the accounts. As he stood by the door he said he was going to take my car this morning because the SUV was low on gas. I suggested we pray together, something we hadn’t done for awhile. So we did.
We didn’t ask that the wallet would be found but we praised the Lord for all that we did have confessing that we didn’t have to worry about these things but just give it all over to Him. I felt better after praying.
I walked him out to the car. As he opened the door he shouted, “There’s my wallet!”
I took a step forward and then I saw it too. It was on the floor in front of the back seat right in plain sight. He and the kids had searched both vehicles twice, most recently as last night. That wallet could not have been out in the open like that.
We looked at each other in disbelief. How did it get there? What if he hadn’t decided to take my car instead of his today?
Cathy Pansa
Shorewood, Illinois
Jim lost his wallet and that affected the whole family. It happened sometime Sunday although he didn’t realize he had misplaced his wallet until he was getting his things ready Sunday night for the morning commute.
He had washed two cars and detailed them Sunday afternoon so that was the first place he looked. The rest of us started the search inside the house, starting with the obvious places like the nightstand by the bed and the buffet in the dining room. We progressed to feeling in the crevasses of the cushions on the couch and inside the levels of the Lazy Boy chair. Soon we were trashing the house. All was for naught.
Monday morning Jim drove off to work without his wallet and of course without his license, I prayed the wallet would be found. Monday night we resumed the search perhaps more frantically than the day before. Jim and the kids went out and checked the cars again and I looked around inside revisiting many of the same places I had searched before. No wallet. I prayed some more
Tuesday Jim was obviously still upset and began grumbling about the prospect of having to apply for a duplicate license and call the credit card companies to close the accounts. As he stood by the door he said he was going to take my car this morning because the SUV was low on gas. I suggested we pray together, something we hadn’t done for awhile. So we did.
We didn’t ask that the wallet would be found but we praised the Lord for all that we did have confessing that we didn’t have to worry about these things but just give it all over to Him. I felt better after praying.
I walked him out to the car. As he opened the door he shouted, “There’s my wallet!”
I took a step forward and then I saw it too. It was on the floor in front of the back seat right in plain sight. He and the kids had searched both vehicles twice, most recently as last night. That wallet could not have been out in the open like that.
We looked at each other in disbelief. How did it get there? What if he hadn’t decided to take my car instead of his today?
Cathy Pansa
Shorewood, Illinois
Lost Keys
Week of August 2
It was my junior year of college and I was studying abroad in Strasbourg, France. My roommate was another American student. One evening she realized she had misplaced her keys. She began frantically searching the room, growing more frustrated and angry with each place she looked and not finding her keys.
I have a habit (as silly as it may seem) when I lose something to ask the Lord for guidance as to where it may be. My roommate was not a Christian so I left the room and walked down the hallway toward the floor bathroom.
I prayed, “Lord, Elizabeth doesn’t know You as I do, and she doesn’t know to ask You where her keys are. But I know she’s very upset and worked up, so Lord, I am asking You for her that You might help her find her keys.”
When I returned to the room, a calmer Elizabeth said, “You’ll never believe it! Shortly after you left, I looked under my mattress and there were my keys.”
Why am I not surprised.
Marybeth Henry
Arlington, Virginia
It was my junior year of college and I was studying abroad in Strasbourg, France. My roommate was another American student. One evening she realized she had misplaced her keys. She began frantically searching the room, growing more frustrated and angry with each place she looked and not finding her keys.
I have a habit (as silly as it may seem) when I lose something to ask the Lord for guidance as to where it may be. My roommate was not a Christian so I left the room and walked down the hallway toward the floor bathroom.
I prayed, “Lord, Elizabeth doesn’t know You as I do, and she doesn’t know to ask You where her keys are. But I know she’s very upset and worked up, so Lord, I am asking You for her that You might help her find her keys.”
When I returned to the room, a calmer Elizabeth said, “You’ll never believe it! Shortly after you left, I looked under my mattress and there were my keys.”
Why am I not surprised.
Marybeth Henry
Arlington, Virginia
Friday, August 6, 2010
Prudent Wife
August 5
Joy exclaims, "Oh! I had the most wonderful feeling when I was in the mall today; you know how you feel when you first love, like the butterflies you get. I had them again today for you and I said to myself; I get to go home to him today."
Wow what a loving thing to feel and share. Truly a loving wife is a gift from God. I am blessed.
"Houses and riches are an inheritance from fathers,
But a prudent wife is from the Lord." (Proverbs 19:14)
Joy exclaims, "Oh! I had the most wonderful feeling when I was in the mall today; you know how you feel when you first love, like the butterflies you get. I had them again today for you and I said to myself; I get to go home to him today."
Wow what a loving thing to feel and share. Truly a loving wife is a gift from God. I am blessed.
"Houses and riches are an inheritance from fathers,
But a prudent wife is from the Lord." (Proverbs 19:14)
Specialist Johnson
August 5
Specialist Johnson worked in personnel when I was at the Officers Candidate School. at Ft. Benning. I was from his hometown so he befriended me. On graduation day I wanted my first salute to come from Specialist Johnson so I could give him the traditional dollar. He saw me and waved. I said sternly, "Specialist is that the way you greet an officer?"
Isn't God like that, making us humble ourselves first, then comes His blessings"
Spc. Johnson was a blessing to me at OCS.
“There is a friend who sticks closer than a brother." (Proverbs 18:24)
Specialist Johnson worked in personnel when I was at the Officers Candidate School. at Ft. Benning. I was from his hometown so he befriended me. On graduation day I wanted my first salute to come from Specialist Johnson so I could give him the traditional dollar. He saw me and waved. I said sternly, "Specialist is that the way you greet an officer?"
Isn't God like that, making us humble ourselves first, then comes His blessings"
Spc. Johnson was a blessing to me at OCS.
“There is a friend who sticks closer than a brother." (Proverbs 18:24)
Barred from Prison
August 3
Our prison services were suppose to start in February. I had April. I asked people to pray for me and they did. We never got into the Prison. The clearances hadn’t come through. We prayed for the men through the barbed wire fence.I was reassigned to December. A call in late November cancelled our group.
God didn't want me in that prison. Why? Wasn't I properly prepared? Wasn't my heart right? A year later I heard God’s reply, "You never asked Me." It wasn’t His will that I go, it was mine.
“For without Me you can do nothing.” (John 51:5)
Our prison services were suppose to start in February. I had April. I asked people to pray for me and they did. We never got into the Prison. The clearances hadn’t come through. We prayed for the men through the barbed wire fence.I was reassigned to December. A call in late November cancelled our group.
God didn't want me in that prison. Why? Wasn't I properly prepared? Wasn't my heart right? A year later I heard God’s reply, "You never asked Me." It wasn’t His will that I go, it was mine.
“For without Me you can do nothing.” (John 51:5)
Strange Island
August 2
We paddle a skiff to a small beach and walk up the trail to the huts. Clothes hang on racks, two smoldering fires and chickens mill about but not a soul in sight. It is eerie. Now I have an inkling how missionaries must feel going to a remote area to share the Gospel. Their faith must be bigger than their fears. Is mine?
“Go therefore, and teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost: teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you: and know I am with you always, even to the end of the world.”(Matthew 28:19-20)
We paddle a skiff to a small beach and walk up the trail to the huts. Clothes hang on racks, two smoldering fires and chickens mill about but not a soul in sight. It is eerie. Now I have an inkling how missionaries must feel going to a remote area to share the Gospel. Their faith must be bigger than their fears. Is mine?
“Go therefore, and teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost: teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you: and know I am with you always, even to the end of the world.”(Matthew 28:19-20)
Baseball Lesson
August 1
The coach is chiding his third baseman.
A grounded heads for third and the baseman, thoroughly rattled misplays the ball. As the inning ends the player storms off the field and slams his glove down.
The catcher tells him “cheer up, the coach only rides those he thinks have potential. It is his way of trying to bring the best out of you.” The third baseman lifts his head.
God is like that coach. He is trying to bring out our best. He knows what is inside. He put it there.
“For whom the Lord loves He corrects; even as a father the son in whom he delights.” (Proverbs 3:11)
The coach is chiding his third baseman.
A grounded heads for third and the baseman, thoroughly rattled misplays the ball. As the inning ends the player storms off the field and slams his glove down.
The catcher tells him “cheer up, the coach only rides those he thinks have potential. It is his way of trying to bring the best out of you.” The third baseman lifts his head.
God is like that coach. He is trying to bring out our best. He knows what is inside. He put it there.
“For whom the Lord loves He corrects; even as a father the son in whom he delights.” (Proverbs 3:11)
Friday, July 30, 2010
Lost Cell Phone
July 31
I ask in the van if she has her cell phone. She returns to the house to look for it.
She is back in less than half a minute with the phone in her hand and a quizzical look.
“ Where was it,” I ask relieved?
“I don’t know,” she says softly.
“What do you mean you don’t know?”
“I went into the kitchen and I didn’t see it, I prayed and then I’m holding the phone. It was like someone handed it to me.”
“Let your request be made known to God and the peace of God which surpasses
all understanding shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.”
(Philippians 4:6-7)
I ask in the van if she has her cell phone. She returns to the house to look for it.
She is back in less than half a minute with the phone in her hand and a quizzical look.
“ Where was it,” I ask relieved?
“I don’t know,” she says softly.
“What do you mean you don’t know?”
“I went into the kitchen and I didn’t see it, I prayed and then I’m holding the phone. It was like someone handed it to me.”
“Let your request be made known to God and the peace of God which surpasses
all understanding shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.”
(Philippians 4:6-7)
IG Inspection
July 30
Try keeping anything metal from rusting in Panama. It is impossible. The Inspector General team arrived headed by a Captain I had served with a year earlier. I told him my evaluation was riding on the weapons inspection.
The captain took over inspecting the weapons himself. Later he made an oral report to the brass. When he got to the weapons section he turned to my company commander and said; "Captain, I congratulate you and your men for having the best looking weapons in the battalion."
“… with God all things are possible." (Mark 10:27)
Try keeping anything metal from rusting in Panama. It is impossible. The Inspector General team arrived headed by a Captain I had served with a year earlier. I told him my evaluation was riding on the weapons inspection.
The captain took over inspecting the weapons himself. Later he made an oral report to the brass. When he got to the weapons section he turned to my company commander and said; "Captain, I congratulate you and your men for having the best looking weapons in the battalion."
“… with God all things are possible." (Mark 10:27)
Lost Swimmer
July 29
I‘m 17 and the waterfront director at a Boy Scout camp. The counselors had left the water for lunch. My assistant reports there is still a nametag on the board.I send him to the mess hall and I begin a lost swimmer search.
On my fourth dive I see the body several feet below me. I gasp, lose my air and re- surface. My heart is pounding. I take a deep breadth and dive straight down, arms extended. As I near the bottom the body is a towel draped over some rocks. When I surface my assistant is walking on the dock and tells me our missing person is at the dinning hall. My reaction is how heaven feels about a new believer.
"Rejoice with me for I have found my sheep which was lost." (Luke 15:6)
I‘m 17 and the waterfront director at a Boy Scout camp. The counselors had left the water for lunch. My assistant reports there is still a nametag on the board.I send him to the mess hall and I begin a lost swimmer search.
On my fourth dive I see the body several feet below me. I gasp, lose my air and re- surface. My heart is pounding. I take a deep breadth and dive straight down, arms extended. As I near the bottom the body is a towel draped over some rocks. When I surface my assistant is walking on the dock and tells me our missing person is at the dinning hall. My reaction is how heaven feels about a new believer.
"Rejoice with me for I have found my sheep which was lost." (Luke 15:6)
Tragic Lesson
July 28
A small plane plunges into the dark ocean off Martha's Vineyard claiming the lives of the pilot, John F. Kennedy, Jr., his wife, Carolyn and her sister, Lauren Bessette.
JFK Jr. left for the island that night despite predictions of poor visibility. A reporter who is also a pilot concludes JFK Jr. fell victim to the young pilot's disease he called, "gotta-get-there-itis."
I ask God, what am I supposed to learn from all this? "The reply comes quickly.
"Without counsel plans go awry, but in the multitude of counselors they are established."(Proverbs 22:1)
A small plane plunges into the dark ocean off Martha's Vineyard claiming the lives of the pilot, John F. Kennedy, Jr., his wife, Carolyn and her sister, Lauren Bessette.
JFK Jr. left for the island that night despite predictions of poor visibility. A reporter who is also a pilot concludes JFK Jr. fell victim to the young pilot's disease he called, "gotta-get-there-itis."
I ask God, what am I supposed to learn from all this? "The reply comes quickly.
"Without counsel plans go awry, but in the multitude of counselors they are established."(Proverbs 22:1)
A Walk on the Beach
July 27
“Grampy, want to go for a walk on the beach?” What I don’t realize is what a four-year-old means by a walk on the beach. To him it means racing down the beach looking back, smiling and off again. This goes on for several minutes. Finally he stops and starts running back towards me, arms extended. I throw my arms up and run towards him. As he draws near I crouch and he leaps into my waiting arms, squealing with delight. What joy.
“ These things I have spoken to you, that My joy may remain in you, and that your joy may be full.” (John 15: 11)
“Grampy, want to go for a walk on the beach?” What I don’t realize is what a four-year-old means by a walk on the beach. To him it means racing down the beach looking back, smiling and off again. This goes on for several minutes. Finally he stops and starts running back towards me, arms extended. I throw my arms up and run towards him. As he draws near I crouch and he leaps into my waiting arms, squealing with delight. What joy.
“ These things I have spoken to you, that My joy may remain in you, and that your joy may be full.” (John 15: 11)
Angels in my Life.
July 26
My thanks to these special angels:
An orthopedic nurse who encouraged me for ten years so I wouldn’t be crippled;
The priest who stopped and taped a leaky fuel line in my car on a hot summer day;
The unknown angel who awakened me just as I was drifting off the road;
Thank you Lord for sending these and others in my time of need.
“He shall give His angels charge over you, to keep you in all your ways."
(Psalm 91:11)
My thanks to these special angels:
An orthopedic nurse who encouraged me for ten years so I wouldn’t be crippled;
The priest who stopped and taped a leaky fuel line in my car on a hot summer day;
The unknown angel who awakened me just as I was drifting off the road;
Thank you Lord for sending these and others in my time of need.
“He shall give His angels charge over you, to keep you in all your ways."
(Psalm 91:11)
All in a Day
July 25
How was your day? Ok. Let’s look again.
The car accident that almost happened but didn’t, the call from a friend inviting me to something good, a hug and smile from my wife and a surprise call from a daughter.
There is food to eat, no aches or pains, and nothing dangerous to face. There is a meeting with a friend, a Bible to read, wild ducks to feed, a computer to use, music to hear, a comfortable bed and prayers to say. It’s not just Ok. It was a day from GOD.
"I have come that they may have life, and that they may have it more abundantly."
(John 10:10)
How was your day? Ok. Let’s look again.
The car accident that almost happened but didn’t, the call from a friend inviting me to something good, a hug and smile from my wife and a surprise call from a daughter.
There is food to eat, no aches or pains, and nothing dangerous to face. There is a meeting with a friend, a Bible to read, wild ducks to feed, a computer to use, music to hear, a comfortable bed and prayers to say. It’s not just Ok. It was a day from GOD.
"I have come that they may have life, and that they may have it more abundantly."
(John 10:10)
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Jack's Miracle
Week of July 25
On Good Friday Jack was working out at the gym, as he often did. Without warning he collapsed on a weight machine and slid to the floor. A cardiac nurse happened to be working out nearby. She normally would not have been at the gym at that hour but a schedule change at work allowed her to be at the gym. She had the presence to remove vomit from Jack’s mouth which cleared his air passage. Jack, unconscious but breathing on his own was rushed to a nearby hospital.
In the emergency room Jack remained unconscious, a couple of times the doctors lost a pulse. He remained in a coma. The doctor told his wife that a cat scan showed no activity…if he regained consciousness he probably would be a vegetable. Jack’s youngest daughter, Colleen, a high school student, told her mom not to believe the doctor.
“Our God is bigger than that,” she said. Later after the rest of the family arrived Colleen found her way to the Chapel. She was alone. She prayed for God’s healing power. She said she clearly her a voice in her head say, “I will restore those (brain) cells Sunday to glorify my son’s resurrection.”
When she reported this revelation to her family she was met with skepticism, heads shaking in disbelief, and eyes rolling. The next day Jack was still in a
comma and on life support. Twice Colleen, in talking to her dad, got such a strong reaction on the monitoring machine that the nurses came in the room. The second time they asked her to leave the hospital room. She insisted her dad was going to be ok. “You don’t know my God or my dad,” she told the nurses as she left.
The next day, Easter morning, there was a banging at her bedroom door. It was her little brother reporting that, “Dad woke up.”
An excited Colleen, while driving to the hospital stopped at every convenience store she passed to exclaim “Behold the Lamb of God, my dad is healed.” She arrived at the hospital to find her dad sitting up and being his old feisty self.
When Colleen returned home that day and turned on her favorite Christian station the first thing she heard was “Behold the Lamb of God.”
Jack Reilly
Tucson, Arizona (as told by his daughter)
On Good Friday Jack was working out at the gym, as he often did. Without warning he collapsed on a weight machine and slid to the floor. A cardiac nurse happened to be working out nearby. She normally would not have been at the gym at that hour but a schedule change at work allowed her to be at the gym. She had the presence to remove vomit from Jack’s mouth which cleared his air passage. Jack, unconscious but breathing on his own was rushed to a nearby hospital.
In the emergency room Jack remained unconscious, a couple of times the doctors lost a pulse. He remained in a coma. The doctor told his wife that a cat scan showed no activity…if he regained consciousness he probably would be a vegetable. Jack’s youngest daughter, Colleen, a high school student, told her mom not to believe the doctor.
“Our God is bigger than that,” she said. Later after the rest of the family arrived Colleen found her way to the Chapel. She was alone. She prayed for God’s healing power. She said she clearly her a voice in her head say, “I will restore those (brain) cells Sunday to glorify my son’s resurrection.”
When she reported this revelation to her family she was met with skepticism, heads shaking in disbelief, and eyes rolling. The next day Jack was still in a
comma and on life support. Twice Colleen, in talking to her dad, got such a strong reaction on the monitoring machine that the nurses came in the room. The second time they asked her to leave the hospital room. She insisted her dad was going to be ok. “You don’t know my God or my dad,” she told the nurses as she left.
The next day, Easter morning, there was a banging at her bedroom door. It was her little brother reporting that, “Dad woke up.”
An excited Colleen, while driving to the hospital stopped at every convenience store she passed to exclaim “Behold the Lamb of God, my dad is healed.” She arrived at the hospital to find her dad sitting up and being his old feisty self.
When Colleen returned home that day and turned on her favorite Christian station the first thing she heard was “Behold the Lamb of God.”
Jack Reilly
Tucson, Arizona (as told by his daughter)
Sunday, July 18, 2010
It Began with a Shipwreck
Week of July 17
“It all started when I was shipwrecked off the coast of Africa.” This is how my dad started every bedtime story when my little sister and I were growing up. He always made the stories up according to his mood and while the stories were always different, the beginning was always the same; he was shipwrecked off the coast of Africa. We loved his stories.
He had lived a life full of both hard work and temperance. He was a stonemason, didn't smoke, and he drank only a tiny glass of family home-made wine occasionally. He walked about 5 miles daily to relieve the loneliness and grief after my mom died from cancer. My dad was a spirit filled man who prayed the Rosary daily on his knees.
Dad had been ill for about a year while hospitals misdiagnosed him. Finally we got him to Mass General Hospital where he was diagnosed with stage 4 leukemia. He was bleeding internally and that spiked the stroke that killed him. He was 75 when he passed.
I should tell you that in my family we always expect to get word that our loved ones “arrive safely.” So when my dad died my sister and I expected to hear from him.
A short while after the funeral my sister and I were driving separate cars in two different states (Connecticut and Massachusetts) and we happened to be listening to the same program on Public Radio. Faith Middleton was interviewing an author and asked him to read a page from his newly published book. His first words were, “It all started when I was shipwrecked off the coast of Africa.”
I called my sister that evening and we both knew that it was a message from our story telling dad.
I’ve had one other contact from my dad. There came a time several months after his death when I was overcome with grief and was weeping for him in my bed, calling him in fact, wanting him to be near. At the time, I was lying on my left side in the bed, my head on the pillow. I suddenly heard him call my name, loudly and directly, into my right ear as though he were standing next to me. After I heard my name, my right ear 'pinged' and a ringing sound began in an odd way. Not my left ear, nor did both ears 'ping' -- only the right one into which his voice came. I knew immediately it was my dad and I was at peace.
I hope that these stories I have shared give others as much comfort as I received experiencing them.
Diane Valentine Reading
Middletown, Connecticut
“It all started when I was shipwrecked off the coast of Africa.” This is how my dad started every bedtime story when my little sister and I were growing up. He always made the stories up according to his mood and while the stories were always different, the beginning was always the same; he was shipwrecked off the coast of Africa. We loved his stories.
He had lived a life full of both hard work and temperance. He was a stonemason, didn't smoke, and he drank only a tiny glass of family home-made wine occasionally. He walked about 5 miles daily to relieve the loneliness and grief after my mom died from cancer. My dad was a spirit filled man who prayed the Rosary daily on his knees.
Dad had been ill for about a year while hospitals misdiagnosed him. Finally we got him to Mass General Hospital where he was diagnosed with stage 4 leukemia. He was bleeding internally and that spiked the stroke that killed him. He was 75 when he passed.
I should tell you that in my family we always expect to get word that our loved ones “arrive safely.” So when my dad died my sister and I expected to hear from him.
A short while after the funeral my sister and I were driving separate cars in two different states (Connecticut and Massachusetts) and we happened to be listening to the same program on Public Radio. Faith Middleton was interviewing an author and asked him to read a page from his newly published book. His first words were, “It all started when I was shipwrecked off the coast of Africa.”
I called my sister that evening and we both knew that it was a message from our story telling dad.
I’ve had one other contact from my dad. There came a time several months after his death when I was overcome with grief and was weeping for him in my bed, calling him in fact, wanting him to be near. At the time, I was lying on my left side in the bed, my head on the pillow. I suddenly heard him call my name, loudly and directly, into my right ear as though he were standing next to me. After I heard my name, my right ear 'pinged' and a ringing sound began in an odd way. Not my left ear, nor did both ears 'ping' -- only the right one into which his voice came. I knew immediately it was my dad and I was at peace.
I hope that these stories I have shared give others as much comfort as I received experiencing them.
Diane Valentine Reading
Middletown, Connecticut
Sunday, July 11, 2010
God Talks to Debbie
Week of July 11
I love my God. The God who sent Jesus Christ, My Lord and Savior, HE is my everything. So when people would share how God clearly spoke to them and they were going to do something out of clearly hearing God’s word, I would become puzzled and often wonder, “Why isn’t God talking to me?”
Well, in the fall of 2005 a thought came to mind. It was that I should consider moving back to St. Louis (I had been in Florida for 5 years.) When I left St. Louis I had experienced a very painful divorce and a lot of heartache so I never felt it was a place I would return to live. This idea continued to come up in my quiet time and I did not understand.
Pastor Brian’s sermons were jumping out at me. He talked about quiet time, taking time to really spend with God in prayer and adoration. Let me tell you, it is awesome what we can hear from our Lord when we are quiet and consistently seek his word and desire for us.
Two months into this, I was going back home to St. Louis for Christmas. I was clearly hearing from God that He wanted me to return permanently, but I had never experienced this before, so I was wanting to make sure I was getting it right.
I have a dear friend, a woman who truly walks and talks with our God. What Faith she has. She sent me to Florida with much love and blessings and over the past five years never once asked, “When are you coming home?” So I prayed to God to please somehow reveal to me through Mary that this is what He wanted me to do.
When I arrive in St. Louis six of us ladies, friends for almost 30 years, meet for lunch. As we are leaving, my friend Mary pulls me aside and says, “Debbie, God has really put you on my heart for the past several months. I think it is time you came home.” ( I began to tremble inside because I knew God was letting me know His desire for me.)
I jokingly said to her, “One problem, I need a job”. Then she proceeded to tell me another “God Thing”. Two days earlier a friend of hers, whom she had not talked to in months, just showed up at her door. Mary claims this Nurse Recruiter friend has never done such a thing before. She would normally call and ask to come by and visit. She told Mary she did not know why God led her to the house that morning, but just felt a strong need to visit her friend. During the conversation, she told Mary she was in need of a Nurse Case Manager and did she know of anyone. Oddly enough, Mary tells her that we are having lunch in two days and she would discuss it with me. Mary then tells me to fax my resume to Karen and let God do the rest.
I shared with her what I had been praying for and how she revealed to me this is what God desires for me and I want and must be obedient. We both began to cry and thank God for his goodness.
I returned to Florida, put my condo up for sale and had a telephone interview from Florida for a Nurse Case Manager position the very next week.
I have clearly heard God’s word to me and as frightening as a move, new job, etc. seems, I am excited and must be obedient. I don’t know what God has in store for me in St. Louis, but what ever it is, I will be able to get through it because I love my Lord and He is always with me. He is my Rock and my strength and is ever present.
I encourage you to spend quiet time with the Lord. Pray, read scripture and then, most importantly, be still, “listen, and know that I am God.” We MUST listen to God and be obedient to his will in our life.
Debbie Houston
St. Louis, Missouri
I love my God. The God who sent Jesus Christ, My Lord and Savior, HE is my everything. So when people would share how God clearly spoke to them and they were going to do something out of clearly hearing God’s word, I would become puzzled and often wonder, “Why isn’t God talking to me?”
Well, in the fall of 2005 a thought came to mind. It was that I should consider moving back to St. Louis (I had been in Florida for 5 years.) When I left St. Louis I had experienced a very painful divorce and a lot of heartache so I never felt it was a place I would return to live. This idea continued to come up in my quiet time and I did not understand.
Pastor Brian’s sermons were jumping out at me. He talked about quiet time, taking time to really spend with God in prayer and adoration. Let me tell you, it is awesome what we can hear from our Lord when we are quiet and consistently seek his word and desire for us.
Two months into this, I was going back home to St. Louis for Christmas. I was clearly hearing from God that He wanted me to return permanently, but I had never experienced this before, so I was wanting to make sure I was getting it right.
I have a dear friend, a woman who truly walks and talks with our God. What Faith she has. She sent me to Florida with much love and blessings and over the past five years never once asked, “When are you coming home?” So I prayed to God to please somehow reveal to me through Mary that this is what He wanted me to do.
When I arrive in St. Louis six of us ladies, friends for almost 30 years, meet for lunch. As we are leaving, my friend Mary pulls me aside and says, “Debbie, God has really put you on my heart for the past several months. I think it is time you came home.” ( I began to tremble inside because I knew God was letting me know His desire for me.)
I jokingly said to her, “One problem, I need a job”. Then she proceeded to tell me another “God Thing”. Two days earlier a friend of hers, whom she had not talked to in months, just showed up at her door. Mary claims this Nurse Recruiter friend has never done such a thing before. She would normally call and ask to come by and visit. She told Mary she did not know why God led her to the house that morning, but just felt a strong need to visit her friend. During the conversation, she told Mary she was in need of a Nurse Case Manager and did she know of anyone. Oddly enough, Mary tells her that we are having lunch in two days and she would discuss it with me. Mary then tells me to fax my resume to Karen and let God do the rest.
I shared with her what I had been praying for and how she revealed to me this is what God desires for me and I want and must be obedient. We both began to cry and thank God for his goodness.
I returned to Florida, put my condo up for sale and had a telephone interview from Florida for a Nurse Case Manager position the very next week.
I have clearly heard God’s word to me and as frightening as a move, new job, etc. seems, I am excited and must be obedient. I don’t know what God has in store for me in St. Louis, but what ever it is, I will be able to get through it because I love my Lord and He is always with me. He is my Rock and my strength and is ever present.
I encourage you to spend quiet time with the Lord. Pray, read scripture and then, most importantly, be still, “listen, and know that I am God.” We MUST listen to God and be obedient to his will in our life.
Debbie Houston
St. Louis, Missouri
Saturday, July 3, 2010
Mr. Clarke
Week of July 4
There are some things that just defy logical explanations. This is one of those things for me. I was a mother with a small boy at home. About once a month a Mr. Clarke would stop by, usually late morning, with a suitcase full of small household items for sale. Mr. Clarke, I never knew his first name, was an older gentleman of retirement age who was trying to augment his income by going door-to-door selling whatever he could. I felt sorry for him and would always buy something, even if only a pair of shoe strings, so he wouldn’t leave without having sold something.
Mainly we would just chat about the weather or something in the news that week while my little boy played with blocks or some other toy on the living room floor. After several minutes of friendly conversation he would open his suitcase and point out some new item. I would listen to whatever he was promoting and politely say I didn’t think I needed that right now but what we really needed was a box of bandages. I would purchase the item and he was most gracious as he packed his wares and left.
This went on for about a year and then one month passed and he hadn’t stopped by. Several months passed and no Mr. Clarke. There was a knock at the door one morning and I opened it to find a thin pleasant looking woman.
“Are you Mrs. Marr,” she asked? I nodded.
“I’m Mrs. Clarke, You were a customer of my husband. He passed on you know.”
“I’m sorry, I wondered what happened to him.”
“I’ve been talking with him and last night he gave me a message for you,” she said.
Before I could collect myself to say anything sensible she must have read the expression of bewilderment and shock on my face and she continued talking.
“Oh yes. I talk with him frequently and last night he was very clear that I bring a message to you. He said, ‘tell Mrs. Marr there is going to be an explosion.’ That’s it, that’s all he said. I can’t tell you what it means, just what he said.”
She wouldn’t come in, apologized for upsetting me in any way and thanked me for being kind to her husband and she walked away. I was dumbfounded.
I thought of a hundred questions I wanted to ask her but she had gone. I didn’t know how to get in touch with her, or where she lived and I still didn’t know Mr. Clarke’s first name.
An explosion! What to do? My husband worked at an oil refinery and I impulsively called his office. As the call was going through I thought what on earth will I say to him, that a woman I’ve never met before told me her dead husband gave her a message last night to warn me that there was going to be an explosion…
“Hello.”
“Hi Dear, how are you?”
“I’m fine, what’s up?”
I couldn’t tell him at least not now over the phone while he was at work. I would tell him when he got home tonight, besides he would be asking me a ton of questions to which I had no answers. The rest of our conversation was strained and awkward especially on my end. I tried to determine what the rest of his day was like without tipping my hand. I was trying to ascertain that he was going to be right at his desk and not out by the fuel storage tanks or down on the docks where the tankers unloaded. I sensed he was getting curious about my new-found interest in his day. Then he asked the question I was dreading.
“Tell me is there something on your mind that prompted this call?”
“Oh,” I laughed nervously, “Could you pick up a dozen eggs on your way home?”
When he came home with the eggs I came clean. I was relieved that he was home and we both had a laugh over our cat and mouse phone conversation. He didn’t know what to make of Mrs. Clarke’s message anymore than I did. So we returned to our routine and switched on the evening news.
The lead story was “A Northwest Airliner Exploded Over Lake Michigan Today Killing All On Board.”
I fainted. Our daughter was a flight attendant for Northwest. Bob, after assisting me, called the airline. They wouldn’t give out any information at this time. Our next call was to the Providence Journal. After talking to a few people an editor said he would make inquiries. He did and called us back with the information that our daughter was not on that flight.
We found out later that she was scheduled for that flight but took sick and her roommate had taken her place. It was a sad day for our family and many others.
What about Mrs. Clarke’s message and its source? Was it just coincidence? I wonder? As I said, I have no logical explanation for this.
Caroline Marr
East Providence, Rhode Island
There are some things that just defy logical explanations. This is one of those things for me. I was a mother with a small boy at home. About once a month a Mr. Clarke would stop by, usually late morning, with a suitcase full of small household items for sale. Mr. Clarke, I never knew his first name, was an older gentleman of retirement age who was trying to augment his income by going door-to-door selling whatever he could. I felt sorry for him and would always buy something, even if only a pair of shoe strings, so he wouldn’t leave without having sold something.
Mainly we would just chat about the weather or something in the news that week while my little boy played with blocks or some other toy on the living room floor. After several minutes of friendly conversation he would open his suitcase and point out some new item. I would listen to whatever he was promoting and politely say I didn’t think I needed that right now but what we really needed was a box of bandages. I would purchase the item and he was most gracious as he packed his wares and left.
This went on for about a year and then one month passed and he hadn’t stopped by. Several months passed and no Mr. Clarke. There was a knock at the door one morning and I opened it to find a thin pleasant looking woman.
“Are you Mrs. Marr,” she asked? I nodded.
“I’m Mrs. Clarke, You were a customer of my husband. He passed on you know.”
“I’m sorry, I wondered what happened to him.”
“I’ve been talking with him and last night he gave me a message for you,” she said.
Before I could collect myself to say anything sensible she must have read the expression of bewilderment and shock on my face and she continued talking.
“Oh yes. I talk with him frequently and last night he was very clear that I bring a message to you. He said, ‘tell Mrs. Marr there is going to be an explosion.’ That’s it, that’s all he said. I can’t tell you what it means, just what he said.”
She wouldn’t come in, apologized for upsetting me in any way and thanked me for being kind to her husband and she walked away. I was dumbfounded.
I thought of a hundred questions I wanted to ask her but she had gone. I didn’t know how to get in touch with her, or where she lived and I still didn’t know Mr. Clarke’s first name.
An explosion! What to do? My husband worked at an oil refinery and I impulsively called his office. As the call was going through I thought what on earth will I say to him, that a woman I’ve never met before told me her dead husband gave her a message last night to warn me that there was going to be an explosion…
“Hello.”
“Hi Dear, how are you?”
“I’m fine, what’s up?”
I couldn’t tell him at least not now over the phone while he was at work. I would tell him when he got home tonight, besides he would be asking me a ton of questions to which I had no answers. The rest of our conversation was strained and awkward especially on my end. I tried to determine what the rest of his day was like without tipping my hand. I was trying to ascertain that he was going to be right at his desk and not out by the fuel storage tanks or down on the docks where the tankers unloaded. I sensed he was getting curious about my new-found interest in his day. Then he asked the question I was dreading.
“Tell me is there something on your mind that prompted this call?”
“Oh,” I laughed nervously, “Could you pick up a dozen eggs on your way home?”
When he came home with the eggs I came clean. I was relieved that he was home and we both had a laugh over our cat and mouse phone conversation. He didn’t know what to make of Mrs. Clarke’s message anymore than I did. So we returned to our routine and switched on the evening news.
The lead story was “A Northwest Airliner Exploded Over Lake Michigan Today Killing All On Board.”
I fainted. Our daughter was a flight attendant for Northwest. Bob, after assisting me, called the airline. They wouldn’t give out any information at this time. Our next call was to the Providence Journal. After talking to a few people an editor said he would make inquiries. He did and called us back with the information that our daughter was not on that flight.
We found out later that she was scheduled for that flight but took sick and her roommate had taken her place. It was a sad day for our family and many others.
What about Mrs. Clarke’s message and its source? Was it just coincidence? I wonder? As I said, I have no logical explanation for this.
Caroline Marr
East Providence, Rhode Island
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Janelle's Former Acquaintance
Week of June 27
The economy was collapsing, I had lost my job and my previous employer was laying people off. I applied for a job with the Census Bureau.
In the spring I was trained and sent out as a per-census canvasser. I was working a familiar neighborhood when a former acquaintance came out to say hello. She walked with me as I made my way around the block. She told me she had lost her husband in November and felt lonely and lost. It’s hard for her to get around and she has to take the bus if she has to get anywhere. She didn’t have a car and she doesn’t drive.
I asked why didn’t you call me and she said she didn’t want to bother people.I said, “Don’t feel bad asking for help. That’s why God put us on earth to help one another. He would have stopped at one if he didn’t mean for us to take care of each other. Besides, when you ask someone for help you are actually doing them a favor because it makes them feel needed and wanted. It gives them a purpose.”
We continued walking around the block and then she went her way and I went mine. I didn’t think much about it. I had given her my number and figured I was on her call list.
The very next day I was canvassing across the street. I parked in a driveway of a house I new to be empty and proceeded to walk the block. Someone drives up in a van with her in it. She flagged me down and said she was on her way to the emergency room; she said she had chest pains. The man driving the van was with Jehovah Witness who said “he felt the need” to stop by her house that day. He didn’t know why he just knew he had to drop by.He walked in the door and took one look at her and asked what’s wrong. He had taken her to a walk in clinic and the people there said to take her to the emergency room. He said he had other engagements and couldn’t stay with her, could I. I told them I would finish this block and meet them in the ER.
When I arrived she was sitting there alone, feeling anxious with pains both in the chest and back. I became her hand-holder. We chatted and I learned her family lived mostly in Minnesota. I said once she was admitted I would call them and let them know her situation. She called a neighbor, who was like an adopted daughter, and asked if she would come to the ER.
The doctors came by and said her EKG and other tests were normal and they felt it wasn’t a heart attack and that made her feel better.When her neighbor arrived she seemed agitated and more upset than the situation called for and I didn’t understand why. By this time it was nearly 7 P.M. and Lois was getting hungry so I left her with her neighbor and went out to get some food.
I returned with some chicken soup and a turkey sandwich which seemed to hit the spot. When admitting finally found Lois a bed the neighbor and I accompanied her to her room.
Later when the medical staff came in for a test the neighbor and I waited out in the hall. It was the first time we were together without Lois.It was then that the neighbor told me Lois’s adult son passed away in Minnesota that afternoon. It was out of the blue. He had had a ski mobile accident months before and had been in rehab and seemed to be healing. Apparently a blood clot broke loose from somewhere and lodged in his heart.
For some reason God wanted her to be in the hospital before they told her. She wasn’t told that night, they were waiting until the next day when all the tests would be back.
When I arrived home that night my sister had sent me a card with a picture of a steaming cup of coffee on the outside.
It read: “Good morning this is God. I will be handling all your problems today; I will not need your help…so have a good day. Love God.”
I took the card and some flowers the next morning to Lois. She hadn’t been told yet. Later on, when all her tests came back ok, they told her about her son.
I believe God wanted her to be somewhere safe and to have that card before she received the news.
Jenelle Pullin
Venice, Fl.
The economy was collapsing, I had lost my job and my previous employer was laying people off. I applied for a job with the Census Bureau.
In the spring I was trained and sent out as a per-census canvasser. I was working a familiar neighborhood when a former acquaintance came out to say hello. She walked with me as I made my way around the block. She told me she had lost her husband in November and felt lonely and lost. It’s hard for her to get around and she has to take the bus if she has to get anywhere. She didn’t have a car and she doesn’t drive.
I asked why didn’t you call me and she said she didn’t want to bother people.I said, “Don’t feel bad asking for help. That’s why God put us on earth to help one another. He would have stopped at one if he didn’t mean for us to take care of each other. Besides, when you ask someone for help you are actually doing them a favor because it makes them feel needed and wanted. It gives them a purpose.”
We continued walking around the block and then she went her way and I went mine. I didn’t think much about it. I had given her my number and figured I was on her call list.
The very next day I was canvassing across the street. I parked in a driveway of a house I new to be empty and proceeded to walk the block. Someone drives up in a van with her in it. She flagged me down and said she was on her way to the emergency room; she said she had chest pains. The man driving the van was with Jehovah Witness who said “he felt the need” to stop by her house that day. He didn’t know why he just knew he had to drop by.He walked in the door and took one look at her and asked what’s wrong. He had taken her to a walk in clinic and the people there said to take her to the emergency room. He said he had other engagements and couldn’t stay with her, could I. I told them I would finish this block and meet them in the ER.
When I arrived she was sitting there alone, feeling anxious with pains both in the chest and back. I became her hand-holder. We chatted and I learned her family lived mostly in Minnesota. I said once she was admitted I would call them and let them know her situation. She called a neighbor, who was like an adopted daughter, and asked if she would come to the ER.
The doctors came by and said her EKG and other tests were normal and they felt it wasn’t a heart attack and that made her feel better.When her neighbor arrived she seemed agitated and more upset than the situation called for and I didn’t understand why. By this time it was nearly 7 P.M. and Lois was getting hungry so I left her with her neighbor and went out to get some food.
I returned with some chicken soup and a turkey sandwich which seemed to hit the spot. When admitting finally found Lois a bed the neighbor and I accompanied her to her room.
Later when the medical staff came in for a test the neighbor and I waited out in the hall. It was the first time we were together without Lois.It was then that the neighbor told me Lois’s adult son passed away in Minnesota that afternoon. It was out of the blue. He had had a ski mobile accident months before and had been in rehab and seemed to be healing. Apparently a blood clot broke loose from somewhere and lodged in his heart.
For some reason God wanted her to be in the hospital before they told her. She wasn’t told that night, they were waiting until the next day when all the tests would be back.
When I arrived home that night my sister had sent me a card with a picture of a steaming cup of coffee on the outside.
It read: “Good morning this is God. I will be handling all your problems today; I will not need your help…so have a good day. Love God.”
I took the card and some flowers the next morning to Lois. She hadn’t been told yet. Later on, when all her tests came back ok, they told her about her son.
I believe God wanted her to be somewhere safe and to have that card before she received the news.
Jenelle Pullin
Venice, Fl.
Monday, June 21, 2010
The Last Day is Coming
June 21
Today is the longest day of the year. The days will start getting shorter again. It is the order of our universe, happens every year. The Bible tells us that this order will all come to an abrupt end someday.
This dire prediction takes on a distinct probability since astronomers discovered a huge asteroid falling through space, which could collide with our planet later in this millennium. We have been warned.
“And the stars from heaven fell… and every mountain and island was moved out of its place.” (Revelation 7:13-14)
Today is the longest day of the year. The days will start getting shorter again. It is the order of our universe, happens every year. The Bible tells us that this order will all come to an abrupt end someday.
This dire prediction takes on a distinct probability since astronomers discovered a huge asteroid falling through space, which could collide with our planet later in this millennium. We have been warned.
“And the stars from heaven fell… and every mountain and island was moved out of its place.” (Revelation 7:13-14)
Sunday, June 20, 2010
A Miracle for my Dad
Week of June 20
Good Friday Jack was working out at the gym, as he often did. Without warning he collapsed on a weight machine and slid to the floor. A cardiac nurse happened to be working out nearby. She normally would not have been at the gym at that hour but a schedule change at work allowed her to be at the gym. She had the presence to remove vomit from Jack’s mouth which cleared his air passage. Jack, unconscious but breathing on his own was rushed to a nearby hospital.
In the emergency room Jack remained unconscious, a couple of times the doctors lost a pulse. He remained in a coma. The doctor told his wife that a cat scan showed no activity-if he regained consciousness he probably would be a vegetable. Jack’s youngest daughter, Colleen, a high school student, told her mom not to believe the doctors.
“Our God is bigger than that,” she said. Later after the rest of the family arrived Colleen found her way to the Chapel. She was alone. She prayed for God’s healing power. She said she clearly her a voice in her head say, “I will restore those (brain) cells Sunday to glorify my son’s resurrection.”
When she reported this revelation to her family she was met with skepticism, heads shaking in disbelief, and eyes rolling. The next day Jack was still in a
comma and on life support. Twice Colleen, in talking to her dad, got such a strong reaction on the monitoring machine that the nurses came in the room. The second time she was asked her to leave the hospital room. She insisted her dad was going to be ok. “You don’t know my God or my dad,” she told the nurses as she left.
The next day, Easter morning, there was a banging at her bedroom door. It was her little brother reporting that “Dad woke up.”
An excited Colleen, while driving to the hospital stopped at every convenience store she passed to exclaim, “Behold the Lamb of God, my dad is healed.” She arrived at the hospital to find her dad sitting up and being his old feisty self.
When Colleen returned home that day and turned on her favorite Christian station the first thing she heard was “Behold the Lamb of God.”
Jack Reilly
Tucson, Arizona (as told by his daughter)
Good Friday Jack was working out at the gym, as he often did. Without warning he collapsed on a weight machine and slid to the floor. A cardiac nurse happened to be working out nearby. She normally would not have been at the gym at that hour but a schedule change at work allowed her to be at the gym. She had the presence to remove vomit from Jack’s mouth which cleared his air passage. Jack, unconscious but breathing on his own was rushed to a nearby hospital.
In the emergency room Jack remained unconscious, a couple of times the doctors lost a pulse. He remained in a coma. The doctor told his wife that a cat scan showed no activity-if he regained consciousness he probably would be a vegetable. Jack’s youngest daughter, Colleen, a high school student, told her mom not to believe the doctors.
“Our God is bigger than that,” she said. Later after the rest of the family arrived Colleen found her way to the Chapel. She was alone. She prayed for God’s healing power. She said she clearly her a voice in her head say, “I will restore those (brain) cells Sunday to glorify my son’s resurrection.”
When she reported this revelation to her family she was met with skepticism, heads shaking in disbelief, and eyes rolling. The next day Jack was still in a
comma and on life support. Twice Colleen, in talking to her dad, got such a strong reaction on the monitoring machine that the nurses came in the room. The second time she was asked her to leave the hospital room. She insisted her dad was going to be ok. “You don’t know my God or my dad,” she told the nurses as she left.
The next day, Easter morning, there was a banging at her bedroom door. It was her little brother reporting that “Dad woke up.”
An excited Colleen, while driving to the hospital stopped at every convenience store she passed to exclaim, “Behold the Lamb of God, my dad is healed.” She arrived at the hospital to find her dad sitting up and being his old feisty self.
When Colleen returned home that day and turned on her favorite Christian station the first thing she heard was “Behold the Lamb of God.”
Jack Reilly
Tucson, Arizona (as told by his daughter)
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Hope Haulers
Week of June 13
I’m a salesman and a part time chaplain to the trucking industry. This is a true story.
Three days after 9//11, 2001 I was on my way to Destin Fl. for the annual convention of the Tennessee Trucking Association where I planned to launch Hope Haulers, a family of services to and through the trucking industry. Upon arrival I wasn’t surprised to find everyone talking about 9/11. When I spoke with the association president he asked me if I would deliver the opening prayer. I said I would.
When I stood up in front of the convention, and I hadn’t planned this, I said, “looking out at your faces I see some of you are wondering what is going on in the world and others of you look worried. I might feel the same way if it wasn’t for my faith and knowing my destiny. I believe God has us all here for a reason and if any of you have uncertainty in your life and are anxious see me before you leave this conference.”
Two hundred and fifty people came up to talk with me over the next three days.
Shortly after returning to Nashville I went to the chapel at the truck stop in Antioch to pick up some tools that I left there before going to Florida and to
talk with Chaplain Doug.
A young man came in and started asking the chaplain questions. The nature of the questions told me I should retreat to the chaplain’s quarters and pray for Doug while he talks with the man. I could hear the chaplain making progress when a lady truck driver comes in and interrupts the conversation. I came out and suggest that the lady and I go next door to the restaurant. She is angry with God and unloads on me. We talk for more than an hour and she calms down. I realize I have to leave and I give her my cell number and head back to the chapel to pickup my tools.
The chapel is empty and I wonder how Doug made out with the young man. As I walk out of the chapel with my tools I notice a truck waiting to pull up to the fuel isle but there is no truck in front of it. The driver is just staring straight ahead.
I yell, “hey trucker you can move up.” No response, the driver continues to stare straight ahead.
I walk over and jump up on his rail. “You ok?”
The driver slowly moves his head and says he is waiting for his wife who is in the restaurant. Then he adds, “I’m a mess.”
I tell him to pull around and park and to meet me in the chapel. I drop my tools in my truck and I spot Doug in the restaurant. He tells me he had a good talk with the young man and has scheduled a follow up tomorrow. Together we go into the chapel and
pray for the man in the truck.
After a few minutes, he comes into the chapel. “You have something heavy weighing you down?” He nods. I ask, “are you a Christian?”
“Sorta.”
“Did you ever accept Jesus as your Lord and Savior?”
“Sorta.”
“Let’s address sorta. What do you mean by sorta?”
He tells me that he was kicked out of his house when he was 15, moved into the home of a pastor and his wife. He lived in the basement for a few years and that is when he “sorta” heard about the Lord.
.
“I find a good starting point is getting right with the Lord, would you like to do that,” I ask?
“OK, how do I do that?”
“Go for it! Just start praying.”
There is a long silence. He starts to sweat.
I say, “Tracey there is a battle going on right now over you. If it is alright with you I’ll put my hands on you and I’ll pray over your body. Are you comfortable with this?” He says, “Yeah.”
After two minutes of prayer he opens up and there is a stream of confession, repentance and acceptance of Jesus as his Lord and Savior. We all rejoice. He tells us that the gal waiting in his truck is not his wife but his live in girlfriend.
“I need to get right with that. When she came out of the restaurant with our food she wanted to leave. I told her I had to go to the chapel. She said I’ll wait here.” He looks at me and says, “When I saw you go into the chapel I wondered if you were the chaplain. When I saw you come out I hoped you would come over. When you spoke I couldn’t move my head it was like it was frozen.”
Then he says, “I’m an owner operator. I’ve lost my job, I’m behind in my payments and I’m broke, I had a spot all picked out one and half hours up the road where I was going to drive off and end it all. Then you jumped up on my truck.”
Chuck Sonn
Nashville, Tennessee
I’m a salesman and a part time chaplain to the trucking industry. This is a true story.
Three days after 9//11, 2001 I was on my way to Destin Fl. for the annual convention of the Tennessee Trucking Association where I planned to launch Hope Haulers, a family of services to and through the trucking industry. Upon arrival I wasn’t surprised to find everyone talking about 9/11. When I spoke with the association president he asked me if I would deliver the opening prayer. I said I would.
When I stood up in front of the convention, and I hadn’t planned this, I said, “looking out at your faces I see some of you are wondering what is going on in the world and others of you look worried. I might feel the same way if it wasn’t for my faith and knowing my destiny. I believe God has us all here for a reason and if any of you have uncertainty in your life and are anxious see me before you leave this conference.”
Two hundred and fifty people came up to talk with me over the next three days.
Shortly after returning to Nashville I went to the chapel at the truck stop in Antioch to pick up some tools that I left there before going to Florida and to
talk with Chaplain Doug.
A young man came in and started asking the chaplain questions. The nature of the questions told me I should retreat to the chaplain’s quarters and pray for Doug while he talks with the man. I could hear the chaplain making progress when a lady truck driver comes in and interrupts the conversation. I came out and suggest that the lady and I go next door to the restaurant. She is angry with God and unloads on me. We talk for more than an hour and she calms down. I realize I have to leave and I give her my cell number and head back to the chapel to pickup my tools.
The chapel is empty and I wonder how Doug made out with the young man. As I walk out of the chapel with my tools I notice a truck waiting to pull up to the fuel isle but there is no truck in front of it. The driver is just staring straight ahead.
I yell, “hey trucker you can move up.” No response, the driver continues to stare straight ahead.
I walk over and jump up on his rail. “You ok?”
The driver slowly moves his head and says he is waiting for his wife who is in the restaurant. Then he adds, “I’m a mess.”
I tell him to pull around and park and to meet me in the chapel. I drop my tools in my truck and I spot Doug in the restaurant. He tells me he had a good talk with the young man and has scheduled a follow up tomorrow. Together we go into the chapel and
pray for the man in the truck.
After a few minutes, he comes into the chapel. “You have something heavy weighing you down?” He nods. I ask, “are you a Christian?”
“Sorta.”
“Did you ever accept Jesus as your Lord and Savior?”
“Sorta.”
“Let’s address sorta. What do you mean by sorta?”
He tells me that he was kicked out of his house when he was 15, moved into the home of a pastor and his wife. He lived in the basement for a few years and that is when he “sorta” heard about the Lord.
.
“I find a good starting point is getting right with the Lord, would you like to do that,” I ask?
“OK, how do I do that?”
“Go for it! Just start praying.”
There is a long silence. He starts to sweat.
I say, “Tracey there is a battle going on right now over you. If it is alright with you I’ll put my hands on you and I’ll pray over your body. Are you comfortable with this?” He says, “Yeah.”
After two minutes of prayer he opens up and there is a stream of confession, repentance and acceptance of Jesus as his Lord and Savior. We all rejoice. He tells us that the gal waiting in his truck is not his wife but his live in girlfriend.
“I need to get right with that. When she came out of the restaurant with our food she wanted to leave. I told her I had to go to the chapel. She said I’ll wait here.” He looks at me and says, “When I saw you go into the chapel I wondered if you were the chaplain. When I saw you come out I hoped you would come over. When you spoke I couldn’t move my head it was like it was frozen.”
Then he says, “I’m an owner operator. I’ve lost my job, I’m behind in my payments and I’m broke, I had a spot all picked out one and half hours up the road where I was going to drive off and end it all. Then you jumped up on my truck.”
Chuck Sonn
Nashville, Tennessee
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Less We Forget
Week of June 6
This week is the 56th Anniversary of D-Day...the landing of Allied Forces on the beaches of France to free the French and others from the occupation of Nazi Germany.
This Go Figure story is dedicated to the men and women of that era and remembering one soldier in particular who I had the privilege of meeting at a boy scout camp in 1948. His name was Malcolm Daniels and his camp nickname was Peppy.
We were both on the staff of Camp Yawgoog, a Boy Scout camp in Rockville R.I.Peppy, a disabled vet was the chef that summer and I was an apprentice on the waterfront. Peppy and I were tent-mates.
One afternoon while changing to go for a swim I noticed why he was disabled. Going up the inside thigh of his right leg were six scars, each about the size of a bullet.
"Is that where you were shot," I asked curiously?
"Y'eah" he shrugged, "And I'm thankful that guy was a trained gunner."
I didn't know what he meant then but six years later when I was being trained as a U.S.Army infantryman I was taught to fire a machine gun in short bursts of six rounds. A seventh bullet could have ended Peppy's life.
Like a lot of WWII veterans, Peppy was reluctant to talk about the war. But after a summer of being badgered by a 15-year-old waterfront apprentice Peppy told this account of his disabling encounter with a machine gun in a dense German forest.
After being shot he said he fell in an out of consciousness. Once he recalls being attended by a GI medic and later by a German who was lossening a tourniquet on his leg.He passed out again. When he awoke he realized he was on a cot and he heard two men talking in German.
He thought oh no, I've been captured. I can't walk and I'm a prisoner. In perfect English he heard, "Hi soldier, how are we doing here?" Peppy opened his eyes to see an American doctor.
He was in a forward aid station and it was the talking Germans lying in adjoining beds who were the prisoners.
Peppy died a few years ago after a long and fruitful life of public service. He may be gone now as are most other World War II Veterans, but let us not forget what they did for their country. Thanks Peppy.
Malcolm Salter
Sarasota, Fl.
This week is the 56th Anniversary of D-Day...the landing of Allied Forces on the beaches of France to free the French and others from the occupation of Nazi Germany.
This Go Figure story is dedicated to the men and women of that era and remembering one soldier in particular who I had the privilege of meeting at a boy scout camp in 1948. His name was Malcolm Daniels and his camp nickname was Peppy.
We were both on the staff of Camp Yawgoog, a Boy Scout camp in Rockville R.I.Peppy, a disabled vet was the chef that summer and I was an apprentice on the waterfront. Peppy and I were tent-mates.
One afternoon while changing to go for a swim I noticed why he was disabled. Going up the inside thigh of his right leg were six scars, each about the size of a bullet.
"Is that where you were shot," I asked curiously?
"Y'eah" he shrugged, "And I'm thankful that guy was a trained gunner."
I didn't know what he meant then but six years later when I was being trained as a U.S.Army infantryman I was taught to fire a machine gun in short bursts of six rounds. A seventh bullet could have ended Peppy's life.
Like a lot of WWII veterans, Peppy was reluctant to talk about the war. But after a summer of being badgered by a 15-year-old waterfront apprentice Peppy told this account of his disabling encounter with a machine gun in a dense German forest.
After being shot he said he fell in an out of consciousness. Once he recalls being attended by a GI medic and later by a German who was lossening a tourniquet on his leg.He passed out again. When he awoke he realized he was on a cot and he heard two men talking in German.
He thought oh no, I've been captured. I can't walk and I'm a prisoner. In perfect English he heard, "Hi soldier, how are we doing here?" Peppy opened his eyes to see an American doctor.
He was in a forward aid station and it was the talking Germans lying in adjoining beds who were the prisoners.
Peppy died a few years ago after a long and fruitful life of public service. He may be gone now as are most other World War II Veterans, but let us not forget what they did for their country. Thanks Peppy.
Malcolm Salter
Sarasota, Fl.
Friday, May 28, 2010
"Pull Over"
When I was little, my parents, brother and I made yearly trips to Maine, my mother's home state. Our trip was a long one from North Carolina to this northern destination, but we always looked forward to it.
The year was 1966 and we were on our yearly trek. I was about eight years old. My brother, who is older than me by 17 months, was sitting in the back with me and we were both trying to spot unusual landmarks. We were on the Massachusetts's Turnpike and it was a bright and beautiful sunny day, about 2.00 in the afternoon. My father was driving and mother was talking to him about how excited she was to be going home to Maine.
Out of nowhere a booming voice filled the entire car, "Pull over!" We all looked at each other and then my father looked in his rear view mirror. We couldn't locate the source of the "voice". Again, more emphatically we heard, "Pull Over!” I recall the surprised look on all our faces. Our heads were turning in all directions trying to spot where this "voice" was coming from. Mother and father were saying that maybe it was a state police helicopter with a megaphone. My brother and I were saying, "What was that? What was that?" Because we expected our parent's to know.
Once again the "voice" came, "Pull Over!" So, we did. Father and mother both got out of the car and were anxiously waiting to see if a police car was going to stop behind them. Had we been speeding? Was there something wrong with the car that the authorities may have spotted? I heard the nervousness in my parents’ voices as they questioned each other about what it could be and continued to look all around.
We had pulled over to the emergency lane and there they stood, just outside the car, craning their necks and heads in all directions, behind them, up in the air, looking and searching everywhere for the source of the voice.
Other cars whizzed past. The travelers were going to their destination like there wasn't anything wrong, other than thinking perhaps," Why are those crazy people from North Carolina standing on the side of the road looking around"?
Eventually, my mother and father got back into the car. My brother and I were quiet and waited to see if they were going to be able to explain this to us. My father just started the car and we eased back onto the turnpike.
That was it. Nothing happened. No one showed up with blue flashing lights. It was just a voice coming out of nowhere beseeching us to "pull over.” We continued on our trip to Maine and as always we thoroughly enjoyed ourselves once there.
We have discussed this event many times as a family. We all know we heard the "voice" and we each clearly heard the command three times. We experienced something that none of us, to this day, have ever been able to rationally explain. We believe an accident was avoided and God had his hand directly on us.
Donna Everhardt
North Carolina
The year was 1966 and we were on our yearly trek. I was about eight years old. My brother, who is older than me by 17 months, was sitting in the back with me and we were both trying to spot unusual landmarks. We were on the Massachusetts's Turnpike and it was a bright and beautiful sunny day, about 2.00 in the afternoon. My father was driving and mother was talking to him about how excited she was to be going home to Maine.
Out of nowhere a booming voice filled the entire car, "Pull over!" We all looked at each other and then my father looked in his rear view mirror. We couldn't locate the source of the "voice". Again, more emphatically we heard, "Pull Over!” I recall the surprised look on all our faces. Our heads were turning in all directions trying to spot where this "voice" was coming from. Mother and father were saying that maybe it was a state police helicopter with a megaphone. My brother and I were saying, "What was that? What was that?" Because we expected our parent's to know.
Once again the "voice" came, "Pull Over!" So, we did. Father and mother both got out of the car and were anxiously waiting to see if a police car was going to stop behind them. Had we been speeding? Was there something wrong with the car that the authorities may have spotted? I heard the nervousness in my parents’ voices as they questioned each other about what it could be and continued to look all around.
We had pulled over to the emergency lane and there they stood, just outside the car, craning their necks and heads in all directions, behind them, up in the air, looking and searching everywhere for the source of the voice.
Other cars whizzed past. The travelers were going to their destination like there wasn't anything wrong, other than thinking perhaps," Why are those crazy people from North Carolina standing on the side of the road looking around"?
Eventually, my mother and father got back into the car. My brother and I were quiet and waited to see if they were going to be able to explain this to us. My father just started the car and we eased back onto the turnpike.
That was it. Nothing happened. No one showed up with blue flashing lights. It was just a voice coming out of nowhere beseeching us to "pull over.” We continued on our trip to Maine and as always we thoroughly enjoyed ourselves once there.
We have discussed this event many times as a family. We all know we heard the "voice" and we each clearly heard the command three times. We experienced something that none of us, to this day, have ever been able to rationally explain. We believe an accident was avoided and God had his hand directly on us.
Donna Everhardt
North Carolina
Monday, May 24, 2010
Give Me a Sign
Week of May 23
“Some of you are feeling pretty low right now but believe me you will feel a lot better in six weeks.”
I heard him loud and clear. I wanted this six-week Divorce Recovery Workshop at my church to be over now so I could feel better. The instructor was right about one thing. I was feeling lower than a reptile slithering in the mud. I hoped he was right about feeling better in six weeks. All I could do now was hold onto that hope.
My marriage of seven years wasn’t officially over yet but it had ended a long time ago. Drugs and alcohol had taken their toll. I had been the one to sober up first but all I got for my effort was more verbal abuse from a husband that blamed everything on me,. He continued to medicate himself while I felt a constant ache of loneliness and the pain from the yelling and nightly name calling. There seemed to be no end. Somebody had to end this madness. I moved out and filed for divorce.
I told all this to my Divorce Recovery small group. Each person in the group got to share their situation. We all listened to each other with compassion. I felt particularly sorry for the gals with young children. At least I didn’t have that problem. A childhood disease had left me barren. I didn’t think I could
ever feel good about that but I was thankful now that I didn’t have to go through this with a child too.
The group and our facilitator became my support base for the next several weeks. We helped each other deal with the grieving over the loss of an intimate relationship and to focus on what we had to do to become a whole person again. That meant we had to let go of the anger and the blame in order to begin the healing process. The group was there for me the night my divorce became official by court order. I was glad to be with them and not alone in my apartment.
The instructor was right. I did feel better on “graduation night” from the workshop and there were plenty of tears and hugs and brownies. Our group exchanged phone numbers before leaving. The high I felt at the end of the workshop came crashing down a week later when I lost my high salaried marketing position. The corporation just eliminated the entire department.
I was devastated. During all the trials of the divorce I had poured myself into the job and had relied on the steady income to keep me independent. Now what would I do? How would I keep the apartment once the severance pay ran out? I went into depression. It got worse as the weeks went by and I
couldn’t find another position within the corporation or a like paying job in the city.
I was at or nearing the bottom of my depression pit when a friend from the divorce group called. She asked me how I was doing and I told her. She invited me to he son’s sixth birthday party that afternoon and I at first declined. But she insisted and I thought maybe it would cheer me up.
The party was outside in the yard. It was a mistake to be there. The children playing and the mother’s talking about kids and families depressed me more. When they were occupied with a pin the tail on the donkey game I slipped into the house. I wandered into the living room and all of a sudden the tears gushed out and I was shaking uncontrollably. I cried out to the Lord. With my head bowed and my hand gripping the fireplace mantle I said, “Lord are you there? Let me know. Give me a sign or something that I can know you can hear me… that I matter.”
The tears subsided and the shakes stopped. I lifted my head slowly and there in front of me above the mantle I saw through moist eyes a framed copy of “Footprints.”
“Footprints”
One night a man had a dream and in his dream he reviewed the footsteps he had taken in his life. He looked and noticed that all over the mountains and difficult places he had traveled there was one set of footprints but over the plains and down the hills, there were two sets of footprints, as if someone had walked by his side.
He turned to Christ and said, “There is something I don’t understand. Why is it that down the hills and over the smooth and easy places you walked by my side; but here over the tough and difficult places I walked alone, for I see in those places there is just one set of footprints.”
Christ said to the man, “It is that while your life was easy that I walked along your side;
But here, where the walking was hard and paths difficult, was the time you needed me most and that is when I carried you.”
“Call on Me in your day of trouble and I will deliver you and you will give me the glory.”(Psalm 50:15)
Mary Beth Darling
San Francisco, California
“Some of you are feeling pretty low right now but believe me you will feel a lot better in six weeks.”
I heard him loud and clear. I wanted this six-week Divorce Recovery Workshop at my church to be over now so I could feel better. The instructor was right about one thing. I was feeling lower than a reptile slithering in the mud. I hoped he was right about feeling better in six weeks. All I could do now was hold onto that hope.
My marriage of seven years wasn’t officially over yet but it had ended a long time ago. Drugs and alcohol had taken their toll. I had been the one to sober up first but all I got for my effort was more verbal abuse from a husband that blamed everything on me,. He continued to medicate himself while I felt a constant ache of loneliness and the pain from the yelling and nightly name calling. There seemed to be no end. Somebody had to end this madness. I moved out and filed for divorce.
I told all this to my Divorce Recovery small group. Each person in the group got to share their situation. We all listened to each other with compassion. I felt particularly sorry for the gals with young children. At least I didn’t have that problem. A childhood disease had left me barren. I didn’t think I could
ever feel good about that but I was thankful now that I didn’t have to go through this with a child too.
The group and our facilitator became my support base for the next several weeks. We helped each other deal with the grieving over the loss of an intimate relationship and to focus on what we had to do to become a whole person again. That meant we had to let go of the anger and the blame in order to begin the healing process. The group was there for me the night my divorce became official by court order. I was glad to be with them and not alone in my apartment.
The instructor was right. I did feel better on “graduation night” from the workshop and there were plenty of tears and hugs and brownies. Our group exchanged phone numbers before leaving. The high I felt at the end of the workshop came crashing down a week later when I lost my high salaried marketing position. The corporation just eliminated the entire department.
I was devastated. During all the trials of the divorce I had poured myself into the job and had relied on the steady income to keep me independent. Now what would I do? How would I keep the apartment once the severance pay ran out? I went into depression. It got worse as the weeks went by and I
couldn’t find another position within the corporation or a like paying job in the city.
I was at or nearing the bottom of my depression pit when a friend from the divorce group called. She asked me how I was doing and I told her. She invited me to he son’s sixth birthday party that afternoon and I at first declined. But she insisted and I thought maybe it would cheer me up.
The party was outside in the yard. It was a mistake to be there. The children playing and the mother’s talking about kids and families depressed me more. When they were occupied with a pin the tail on the donkey game I slipped into the house. I wandered into the living room and all of a sudden the tears gushed out and I was shaking uncontrollably. I cried out to the Lord. With my head bowed and my hand gripping the fireplace mantle I said, “Lord are you there? Let me know. Give me a sign or something that I can know you can hear me… that I matter.”
The tears subsided and the shakes stopped. I lifted my head slowly and there in front of me above the mantle I saw through moist eyes a framed copy of “Footprints.”
“Footprints”
One night a man had a dream and in his dream he reviewed the footsteps he had taken in his life. He looked and noticed that all over the mountains and difficult places he had traveled there was one set of footprints but over the plains and down the hills, there were two sets of footprints, as if someone had walked by his side.
He turned to Christ and said, “There is something I don’t understand. Why is it that down the hills and over the smooth and easy places you walked by my side; but here over the tough and difficult places I walked alone, for I see in those places there is just one set of footprints.”
Christ said to the man, “It is that while your life was easy that I walked along your side;
But here, where the walking was hard and paths difficult, was the time you needed me most and that is when I carried you.”
“Call on Me in your day of trouble and I will deliver you and you will give me the glory.”(Psalm 50:15)
Mary Beth Darling
San Francisco, California
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Do Not Be Afraid
Week of May 16
Several years ago I was going through a tough time and feeling a great deal of anxiety. Something happened that has been a source of comfort and courage ever since.
I need to say, right up front, that I have never practiced, nor do I agree with, what has sometimes been called “Bible roulette.” This is the technique
of seeking guidance from God by letting the Bible fall open at random, putting your finger on the page, and trying to interpret as a directive from
God the verse thus identified. On the other hand, in my personal devotions I will often select a passage to read as I feel led, or because I feel a need.
I must also say that the Bible I usually use for my devotional reading was, at the time I am referring to, still fairly new. It was not dog-eared from
use, nor did it naturally fall open to any particular passages.
The event is recorded in my journal. But it need not be, for it stands out in my mind with crystal clarity.
I was alone and feeling agitated. There seemed no end to my anxiety. I cried out, “O God, I am so tired
of being afraid!” It wasn’t a formal prayer. It was a cry from the heart.
At that moment I felt an urge, an invitation, a desire to turn to Scripture. As I reached for my Bible, I felt a definite inclination to turn to the Old Testament. But nothing more specific had yet come to mind. I opened the Bible somewhere around the middle. The very first words my eyes fell upon were these: “...do not fear, for I am with you, do not be afraid, for I am your God...”
I was awestruck. I tried to reproduce the event, but it was soon obvious that my Bible was not automatically opening to Isaiah 41:10.
The skeptic may call it coincidence. But I am convinced that God was in that event, speaking precisely to my anguish through those words of Scripture. Thanks be to God.
Persh Parker
Billings M0
Copyright Thanks Be, First Church of Christ, Wethersfield, Connecticut.
Several years ago I was going through a tough time and feeling a great deal of anxiety. Something happened that has been a source of comfort and courage ever since.
I need to say, right up front, that I have never practiced, nor do I agree with, what has sometimes been called “Bible roulette.” This is the technique
of seeking guidance from God by letting the Bible fall open at random, putting your finger on the page, and trying to interpret as a directive from
God the verse thus identified. On the other hand, in my personal devotions I will often select a passage to read as I feel led, or because I feel a need.
I must also say that the Bible I usually use for my devotional reading was, at the time I am referring to, still fairly new. It was not dog-eared from
use, nor did it naturally fall open to any particular passages.
The event is recorded in my journal. But it need not be, for it stands out in my mind with crystal clarity.
I was alone and feeling agitated. There seemed no end to my anxiety. I cried out, “O God, I am so tired
of being afraid!” It wasn’t a formal prayer. It was a cry from the heart.
At that moment I felt an urge, an invitation, a desire to turn to Scripture. As I reached for my Bible, I felt a definite inclination to turn to the Old Testament. But nothing more specific had yet come to mind. I opened the Bible somewhere around the middle. The very first words my eyes fell upon were these: “...do not fear, for I am with you, do not be afraid, for I am your God...”
I was awestruck. I tried to reproduce the event, but it was soon obvious that my Bible was not automatically opening to Isaiah 41:10.
The skeptic may call it coincidence. But I am convinced that God was in that event, speaking precisely to my anguish through those words of Scripture. Thanks be to God.
Persh Parker
Billings M0
Copyright Thanks Be, First Church of Christ, Wethersfield, Connecticut.
Several years ago I was going through a tough time and feeling a great deal of anxiety. Something happened that has been a source of comfort and courage ever since.
I need to say, right up front, that I have never practiced, nor do I agree with, what has sometimes been called “Bible roulette.” This is the technique
of seeking guidance from God by letting the Bible fall open at random, putting your finger on the page, and trying to interpret as a directive from
God the verse thus identified. On the other hand, in my personal devotions I will often select a passage to read as I feel led, or because I feel a need.
I must also say that the Bible I usually use for my devotional reading was, at the time I am referring to, still fairly new. It was not dog-eared from
use, nor did it naturally fall open to any particular passages.
The event is recorded in my journal. But it need not be, for it stands out in my mind with crystal clarity.
I was alone and feeling agitated. There seemed no end to my anxiety. I cried out, “O God, I am so tired
of being afraid!” It wasn’t a formal prayer. It was a cry from the heart.
At that moment I felt an urge, an invitation, a desire to turn to Scripture. As I reached for my Bible, I felt a definite inclination to turn to the Old Testament. But nothing more specific had yet come to mind. I opened the Bible somewhere around the middle. The very first words my eyes fell upon were these: “...do not fear, for I am with you, do not be afraid, for I am your God...”
I was awestruck. I tried to reproduce the event, but it was soon obvious that my Bible was not automatically opening to Isaiah 41:10.
The skeptic may call it coincidence. But I am convinced that God was in that event, speaking precisely to my anguish through those words of Scripture. Thanks be to God.
Persh Parker
Billings M0
Copyright Thanks Be, First Church of Christ, Wethersfield, Connecticut.
Several years ago I was going through a tough time and feeling a great deal of anxiety. Something happened that has been a source of comfort and courage ever since.
I need to say, right up front, that I have never practiced, nor do I agree with, what has sometimes been called “Bible roulette.” This is the technique
of seeking guidance from God by letting the Bible fall open at random, putting your finger on the page, and trying to interpret as a directive from
God the verse thus identified. On the other hand, in my personal devotions I will often select a passage to read as I feel led, or because I feel a need.
I must also say that the Bible I usually use for my devotional reading was, at the time I am referring to, still fairly new. It was not dog-eared from
use, nor did it naturally fall open to any particular passages.
The event is recorded in my journal. But it need not be, for it stands out in my mind with crystal clarity.
I was alone and feeling agitated. There seemed no end to my anxiety. I cried out, “O God, I am so tired
of being afraid!” It wasn’t a formal prayer. It was a cry from the heart.
At that moment I felt an urge, an invitation, a desire to turn to Scripture. As I reached for my Bible, I felt a definite inclination to turn to the Old Testament. But nothing more specific had yet come to mind. I opened the Bible somewhere around the middle. The very first words my eyes fell upon were these: “...do not fear, for I am with you, do not be afraid, for I am your God...”
I was awestruck. I tried to reproduce the event, but it was soon obvious that my Bible was not automatically opening to Isaiah 41:10.
The skeptic may call it coincidence. But I am convinced that God was in that event, speaking precisely to my anguish through those words of Scripture. Thanks be to God.
Persh Parker
Billings M0
Copyright Thanks Be, First Church of Christ, Wethersfield, Connecticut.
Saturday, May 8, 2010
Grandmother's Advice
Grandmother’s Advice
Week of May 9
My grandmother gave me a Bible when I went off to college. She said “read it when you feel down or need a lift.” I thanked her politely and frankly went on with my life.
Many years later, after a marriage, several children and many job changes I found myself in a bad place. I was really down, lacking direction in my life and bordering on serious depression.
While rummaging in a closet I moved a towel and there was the Bible my grandmother had given me. I felt the hairs standup on the back of my neck.
I took the advice of that gentle lady and I began reading the Bible. A few days later I told my parents about finding the Bible and what grandmother had said when she gave it to me.
“What day did this happen?” my mother asked. After I told her my mother had this curious smile on her face. “That is the anniversary of when your grandmother died.”
I can say the advice my grandmother gave me did a lot more than give me a lift; it has changed my life.
Jim Cooper
Sarasota, Florida
Week of May 9
My grandmother gave me a Bible when I went off to college. She said “read it when you feel down or need a lift.” I thanked her politely and frankly went on with my life.
Many years later, after a marriage, several children and many job changes I found myself in a bad place. I was really down, lacking direction in my life and bordering on serious depression.
While rummaging in a closet I moved a towel and there was the Bible my grandmother had given me. I felt the hairs standup on the back of my neck.
I took the advice of that gentle lady and I began reading the Bible. A few days later I told my parents about finding the Bible and what grandmother had said when she gave it to me.
“What day did this happen?” my mother asked. After I told her my mother had this curious smile on her face. “That is the anniversary of when your grandmother died.”
I can say the advice my grandmother gave me did a lot more than give me a lift; it has changed my life.
Jim Cooper
Sarasota, Florida
Monday, May 3, 2010
Hope Haulers
Week of May 2
I’m a salesman and a part time chaplain to the trucking industry. This is a true story.
Three days after 9//11, 2001 I was on my way to Destin Fl. for the annual convention of the Tennessee Trucking Association where I planned to launch Hope Haulers, a family of services to and through the trucking industry. Upon arrival I wasn’t surprised to find everyone talking about 9/11. When I spoke with the association president he asked me if I would deliver the opening prayer. I said I would.
When I stood up in front of the convention, and I hadn’t planned this, I said, “looking out at your faces I see some of you are wondering what is going on in the world and others of you look worried. I might feel the same way if it wasn’t for my faith and knowing my destiny. I believe God has us all here for a reason and if any of you have uncertainty in your life and are anxious see me before you leave this conference.”
Two hundred and fifty people came up to talk with me over the next three days.
Shortly after returning to Nashville I went to the chapel at the truck stop in Antioch to pick up some tools that I left there before going to Florida and to
talk with Chaplain Doug. A young man came in and started asking the chaplain questions. The nature of the questions told me I should retreat to the chaplain’s quarters and pray for Doug while he talks with the man. I could hear the chaplain making progress when a lady truck driver comes in and interrupts the conversation.
I came out and suggest that the lady and I go next door to the restaurant. She is angry with God and unloads on me. We talk for more than an hour and she calms down. I realize I have to leave and I give her my cell number and head back to the chapel to pickup my tools.
The chapel is empty and I wonder how Doug made out with the young man. As I walk out of the chapel with my tools I notice a truck waiting to pull up to the fuel isle but there is no truck in front of it. The driver is just staring straight ahead.
I yell, “hey trucker you can move up.” No response, the driver stares straight ahead.
I walk over and jump up on his rail. “You ok?”
The driver slowly moves his head and says he is waiting for his wife who is in the restaurant. Then he adds, “I’m a mess.”
I tell him to pull around and park and to meet me in the chapel. I drop my tools in my truck and I spot Doug in the restaurant. He tells me he had a good talk with the young man and has scheduled a follow up tomorrow. Together we go into the chapel and
pray for the man parking his truck.
After a few minutes, he comes into the chapel. “You have something heavy weighing you down?” He nods. I ask, “are you a Christian?”
“Sorta.”
“Did you ever accept Jesus as your Lord and Savior?”
“Sorta.”
“Let’s address sorta. What do you mean by sorta?”
He tells me that he was kicked out of his house when he was 15, moved into the home of a pastor and his wife. He lived in the basement for a few years and that is when he “sorta” heard about the Lord.
.
“I find a good starting point is getting right with the Lord, would you like to do that,” I ask?
“OK, how do I do that?”
“Go for it! Just start praying.”
There is a long silence. He starts to sweat.
I say, “Tracey there is a battle going on right now over you. If it is alright with you I’ll put my hands on you and I’ll pray over your body. Are you comfortable with this?” He says, “Yeah.”
After two minutes of prayer he opens up and there is a stream of confession, repentance and acceptance of Jesus as his Lord and Savior. We all rejoice. He tells us that the gal waiting in his truck is not his wife but his live in girlfriend.
“I need to get right with that. When she came out of the restaurant with our food she wanted to leave. I told her I had to go to the chapel. She said I’ll wait here.” He looks at me and says, “When I saw you go into the chapel I wondered if you were the chaplain. When I saw you come out I hoped you would come over. When you spoke I couldn’t move my head it was like it was frozen.”
Then he says, “I’m an owner operator. I’ve lost my job, I’m behind in my payments and I’m broke, I had a spot all picked out one and half hours up the road where I was going to drive off and end it all. Then you jumped up on my truck.”
Chuck Sonn
Nashville, Tennessee
I’m a salesman and a part time chaplain to the trucking industry. This is a true story.
Three days after 9//11, 2001 I was on my way to Destin Fl. for the annual convention of the Tennessee Trucking Association where I planned to launch Hope Haulers, a family of services to and through the trucking industry. Upon arrival I wasn’t surprised to find everyone talking about 9/11. When I spoke with the association president he asked me if I would deliver the opening prayer. I said I would.
When I stood up in front of the convention, and I hadn’t planned this, I said, “looking out at your faces I see some of you are wondering what is going on in the world and others of you look worried. I might feel the same way if it wasn’t for my faith and knowing my destiny. I believe God has us all here for a reason and if any of you have uncertainty in your life and are anxious see me before you leave this conference.”
Two hundred and fifty people came up to talk with me over the next three days.
Shortly after returning to Nashville I went to the chapel at the truck stop in Antioch to pick up some tools that I left there before going to Florida and to
talk with Chaplain Doug. A young man came in and started asking the chaplain questions. The nature of the questions told me I should retreat to the chaplain’s quarters and pray for Doug while he talks with the man. I could hear the chaplain making progress when a lady truck driver comes in and interrupts the conversation.
I came out and suggest that the lady and I go next door to the restaurant. She is angry with God and unloads on me. We talk for more than an hour and she calms down. I realize I have to leave and I give her my cell number and head back to the chapel to pickup my tools.
The chapel is empty and I wonder how Doug made out with the young man. As I walk out of the chapel with my tools I notice a truck waiting to pull up to the fuel isle but there is no truck in front of it. The driver is just staring straight ahead.
I yell, “hey trucker you can move up.” No response, the driver stares straight ahead.
I walk over and jump up on his rail. “You ok?”
The driver slowly moves his head and says he is waiting for his wife who is in the restaurant. Then he adds, “I’m a mess.”
I tell him to pull around and park and to meet me in the chapel. I drop my tools in my truck and I spot Doug in the restaurant. He tells me he had a good talk with the young man and has scheduled a follow up tomorrow. Together we go into the chapel and
pray for the man parking his truck.
After a few minutes, he comes into the chapel. “You have something heavy weighing you down?” He nods. I ask, “are you a Christian?”
“Sorta.”
“Did you ever accept Jesus as your Lord and Savior?”
“Sorta.”
“Let’s address sorta. What do you mean by sorta?”
He tells me that he was kicked out of his house when he was 15, moved into the home of a pastor and his wife. He lived in the basement for a few years and that is when he “sorta” heard about the Lord.
.
“I find a good starting point is getting right with the Lord, would you like to do that,” I ask?
“OK, how do I do that?”
“Go for it! Just start praying.”
There is a long silence. He starts to sweat.
I say, “Tracey there is a battle going on right now over you. If it is alright with you I’ll put my hands on you and I’ll pray over your body. Are you comfortable with this?” He says, “Yeah.”
After two minutes of prayer he opens up and there is a stream of confession, repentance and acceptance of Jesus as his Lord and Savior. We all rejoice. He tells us that the gal waiting in his truck is not his wife but his live in girlfriend.
“I need to get right with that. When she came out of the restaurant with our food she wanted to leave. I told her I had to go to the chapel. She said I’ll wait here.” He looks at me and says, “When I saw you go into the chapel I wondered if you were the chaplain. When I saw you come out I hoped you would come over. When you spoke I couldn’t move my head it was like it was frozen.”
Then he says, “I’m an owner operator. I’ve lost my job, I’m behind in my payments and I’m broke, I had a spot all picked out one and half hours up the road where I was going to drive off and end it all. Then you jumped up on my truck.”
Chuck Sonn
Nashville, Tennessee