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In a Great Story

This was in another email I recevied from a great friend– I think it is originally from theUK or Canada because they use ‘  as a quotation mark whereas we Americans  use “. Will you choose the Son today?
A wealthy man and his son loved to collect rare works of art. They had everything in their collection, from Picasso to Raphael. They would often sit together and admire the great works of art.
When the Vietnam conflict broke out, the son went to war. He was very courageous and died in battle while rescuing another soldier. The father was notified and grieved deeply for his only son.

About a month later, just before Christmas, there was a knock at the door. A young man stood at the door with a large package in his hands.
He said, ‘Sir, you don’t know me, but I am the soldier for whom your son gave his life. He saved many lives that day, and he was carrying me to safety when a bullet struck him in the heart and he died instantly… He often talked about you, and your love for art.’ The young man held out this package. ‘I know this isn’t much. I’m not really a great artist, but I think your son would have wanted you to have this.’
The father  opened the package. It was a portrait of his son, painted by the young man. He stared in awe at the way the soldier had captured the personality of his son in the painting. The father was so drawn to the eyes that his own eyes welled up with tears. He thanked the young man and offered to pay him for the picture.. ‘Oh, no sir, I could never repay what your son did for me. It’s a gift.’
The father hung the portrait over his mantle. Every time visitors came to his home he took them to see the portrait of his son before he showed them any of the other great works he had collected.
The man died a few months later. There was to be a great auction of his paintings. Many influential people gathered, excited over seeing the great paintings and having an opportunity to purchase one for their collection.
On the platform sat the painting of the son. The auctioneer pounded his gavel. ‘We will start the bidding with this picture of the son. Who will bid for this picture?’
There was silence…
Then a voice in the back of the room shouted, ‘We want to see the famous paintings. Skip this one.’
But the auctioneer persisted. ‘Will somebody bid for this painting? Who will start the bidding? $100, $200?’
Another voice angrily. ‘We didn’t come to see this painting. We came to see the Van Gogh’s, the Rembrandts. Get on with the Real bids!’
But still the auctioneer continued. ‘The son! The son! Who’ll take the son?’
Finally, a voice came from the very back of the room. It was the longtime gardener of the man and his son. ‘I’ll give $10 for the painting…’ Being a poor man, it was all he could afford.
‘We have $10, who will bid $20?’
‘Give it to him for $10. Let’s see the masters.’
The crowd was becoming angry. They didn’t want the picture of the son.
They wanted the more worthy investments for their collections.
The auctioneer pounded the gavel.. ‘Going once, twice, SOLD for $10!’
A man sitting on the second row shouted, ‘Now let’s get on with the collection!’
The auctioneer laid down his gavel. ‘I’m sorry, the auction is over.’
‘What about the paintings?’
‘I am sorry. When I was called to conduct this auction, I was told of a secret stipulation in the will… I was not allowed to reveal that stipulation until this time. Only the painting of the son would be auctioned. Whoever bought that painting would inherit the entire estate, including the paintings.

The man who took the son gets everything!

God gave His son over 2,000 years ago to die on the Cross. Much like the auctioneer, His message today is: ‘The Son, the Son, who’ll take the Son?’
Because, you see, whoever takes the Son gets everything!

I received this in my email in box from a dear friend who is a faithful prayer warrior and eloquent wordsmith. May it touch your heart as it did mine.

 

 Talking with friends this week, I was touched by the numerous challenges so many of us are facing.   These challenges are the same that have faced God’s people for centuries, and throughout time, He has been and continues to be our strength and Redeemer.

I offer this paraphrase of Psalm 25 as a prayer for each of us and those for whom we pray.
 
To You, O Lord, we lift up our souls
O, our God, in You we trust
Make us know Your ways
O Lord, teach us Your paths.
Lead us in Your truth and teach us,
For You are the God of our salvation;
For You we wait all the day,
Remember, O Lord, Your compassion
And Your loving kindness
For they have been from old.
In the name of Jesus, we pray.
Pam Plummer
Fort Worth TX

On Sunday

You’d think because today is Sunday I’d naturally find God in church. That is where many people seek Him, and they should. He is present in the breaking of the Bread, in the prayers of the people, and in the voices of the choir as they lift their songs to Him. Hopefully God is present in the words spoken from the pulpit and in the handshakes at the church door after the service.

Today, I heard Him in the tolling of the bell.

Our tower bell tolls at the beginning of the service and the clarions (a group of bells in various sizes) play a hymn at the end.  But right in the middle, when all is quiet and people are on their knees, it tolls for God’s presence to be known in the breaking of the bread. It reminds us why Christ died and shed His blood.

It is an old European tradition to toll the bells. Once, when the church was the center of the community,  the toll’s tempo meant different things. Our church has long upheld that tradition, as do many mainstream churches. Perhaps a series of bells, ringing in a joyous fast cascades, meant a couple had just be joined in wedlock. Or, a steady tolling was a call to come to church. But, a long, purposeful bong of a bell meant a person had passed on and to pray for their families.

John Donne wrote, in response to the question for whom the bell tolls, “… any man’s death diminishes me, because I am involved in Mankind; And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; It tolls for thee.”  Meditation XVII

The walking dead –  the ones who have no hope, who have not really absorbed the Good  News – do they hear the bell toll in Eucharist?  Do they know it also tolls for them and that God wants to be involved in their lives? I wonder.

Do they hear it in their hearts when they have slammed the door between themselves and their spouse after angry words have filled the home? Does it beckon to a teen who has locked herself in her room to cry into her stuffed animal, thinking it is the only thing on earth who understands her, or when a guy has decided to try the drugs his friend slipped him in the hall to escape the madness raging in his thoughts?

How many people within earshot today knew what that bell was really saying? Did they realize it meant that Christ’s blood was shed for their sins? Did they grasp that the bell represented their Heavenly Father beckoning them to come and accept His Son so His Spirit can dwell within them and bring them peace?

Today I heard God in the tolling of the bell. My prayer is others did as well. I pray they will finally respond to His call and fall into His waiting arms.

Your turn. Where Did You Find God today? Please let me know.

In Time

Have you had one of those days where you have a lots of things that need to be done on your  list, but somehow, things happen so the check list is just not getting marked?  Well, that was my day yesterday. But for once, I decided not to work myself into a tizzy. Each thing that cropped up was important, and actually part of my ministries for God. So, I gave Him my mental to-do list.

Here, God. If you need me to meet with this person or to do this thing, then You will figure out a way for me to get the rest of these done.

Guess what?He took me up on it.  Little did I know when I was called into work early, God would use that time to my benefit. With my employer’s permission, I was able to catch up on my freelance deadline because the phones were, for once, quiet. In fact, it was good quality time to research what I needed for the articles that loomed on my time schedule. Nothing out of the ordinary happened to distract me from either duty – manning the phones and greeting students for tutoring, and also getting a leg up on my research. Who knew? Well, yes, He did.

Think I will try that again today, and tomorrow.

I will counsel you and teach you in the way you should go. I will counsel you with my eyes upon you.  Psalm 32:8

In a T-shirt

I went to a Toastmasters club meeting last night. It is a brand new club and I am one of the mentors, so these folk are already near and dear to my heart.  One speech was given by a man who said his message was on his T-shirt. It showed one man stretching his arm as far as he could over a brick wall to touch the hand of another crouched below on the ground.  It said ,”The only time a brother looks down on another is to help lift him up.”

I saw that T-shirt and I saw God. It reminded me of that famous Sistine Chapel painting by Michaelangelo with God stretching out to touch Adam, who is barely lifting up his hand in response.

As brothers and sisters in Christ, what was on that T-shirt should be our motto. God reached down for us to lift us up when His Son stretched out His arms on the cross for our sins. God knew we could never, because of our fallen nature, reach up to Him on our own merit and through our own efforts.  All we have to do is grab on. Simple, but not always easy. But once we do, and He carries us over that brick wall, we can then be in the position to help others do the same.

There are times when circumstances has weighed down our brothers and sisters so deeply that they do not feel they can get back up. That is when we must be Christ’s hands and show His love. It may be in the gift of money, a smile and hug, a physical helping hand to do a chore, give them a ride or be their advocate. Maybe it is just providing a shoulder on which they can cry.

Perhaps they will refuse our out-stretched hand, and God’s love. That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t offer. If they will not let us lift them up over the wall in their life, then we are called to lift them up in prayer. After all, God is the ultimate wall-crasher.

In the Rain

A friend and I were hitting the thrift stores in search of clothes. She needed white shirts for her new job, and I needed more professional wear.  After four years of freelance writing in sweats and PJs at home for a living, my wardrobe was pretty bare. Since they are low-paying, part-time jobs, (hey, but in this economy both are pure gifts from God) neither of us could afford mega bucks on our attire.

Of course the day we both had off was a rainy one (another gift from God on the parched north Texas land that had been seared by 100 plus temps most of the summer). All day a soft, steady downpour peltered the city. At the last store, we had to park at the back of the lot. As we dashed, huddled under umbrellas, the wind picked up. The rain pour intensified.

We saw a family up ahead.  The mother and little girl were crammed together under an umbrella. The mother’s arm was around the child as her other hand held the umbrella’s pole. The child studderstepped to match her mom’s footsteps. The mom would slow down, then start walking quickly again.  Behind them was the father, holding the tip of the umbrella’s canopy with both hands so it would not flip upward. He was getting soaked, but with undaunted care, he maneuvered the umbrella’s spread with their steps so his two loved ones stayed as dry as possible.

courtesy of faithshare.com

Is that not what our Heavenly Father does for us? His love and grace covers us, like an umbrella against   the downpours of life. His Spirit acts as our guide, but also hovers, just like that dad, making sure we stay protected. Like the daughter underneath, if we keep matching our steps with His, we will stay dry. If we do get a bit damp, it is better than what would have happened if we were on our own. Besides, that family was heading into a store to buy dry, clean clothes. How much more awaits us at our final destination if we follow God’s directives?

In the Unseen

I was in a scene from an old black and white movie, or so it seemed. The kind where you are walking in a thick mist by the sea docks. All you can hear is the sound of your own footsteps on the planks and the methodical wail of the fog horn somewhere in the distance. The grayish, moist fingers stretch to envelop everything around you. Do you move on through the thick soup carefully placing one foot in front of the other as you tap to make sure the path is solid? Do you stand still and hope this opaque veil will lift, or wait for God to grab your hand and lead you through it? Lord, give me a signal, a flash of a torch up ahead to let me know if I am going in the right direction.

I choose to trust – a purposeful act of believing that He is here watching over me. Yet at the same time somehow, because He is not temporal as I am,  My Lord is also outside the fog handling whatever it is I am not yet privileged to detect with my faith eyes.  Perhaps, I must re-train my eyes to see only Him, and not what I having been choosing to see.

Is that a faint glimmer of the Light of the World through the mist up ahead, beckoning? I ease towards it with renewed hope. I am on the right path after all.

So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen
is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal. . . For we walk by faith, not be sight. 2 Corinthians 4:18, 5:7

In My Smart Phone

I have an app on my smart phone that pops up a Bible verse every morning. It amazes me how often it is “where I find God” because the verse, probably chosen months ago, seems to be His personal whisper that day.

A few days ago, when I was in Kleenex-twisting-between-my-fingers prayer about my finances and if I am really to make my living writing for Him, this popped up –

“I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go. I will  counsel you with my eyes upon you.” Psalm 32:8

I had to grab more Kleenex.

Now, after an amazing directional time at the ACFW conference,  my head is still spinning with answers. Like so many brass rings on a merry-go-round, I am not sure which to reach out and try to grab, and in doing so, should I drop what I have in my hand already? And am I meant to grab it now, or wait for a few more rotations on this ride?

So, of course He spoke to me again –

Better is the end of a thing than the beginning, and the patient spirit is better than the proud in spirit. Ecclesiastes 7:8

Yes, Sir.

 

For the past three days I have been in the belly of a hotel attending the American Christian Fiction Writers annual conference. I was a newbie–a first timer. If my wide-eyed face didn’t scream it, my brown ribbon did. 680 fiction writers, agents, editors and mentors wandered the halls chatting and laughing, or packed the meeting rooms, or clustered in prayer groups.

We invaded the entire basement level, so our Emcee, Brandilyn Collins, warned us that when we’d go above back into the world of the normals in the lobby and room floors, to not discuss how Mary and Robert can find love if he is imprisoned or what is the best non-detectable poison to use to kill off Bill, or should you maybe let him live.

In this netherworld, there was no jealousies, only love and support. There was no competition, only tears of joy and applause when someone landed a contract or and agent. Our goal, all 680 plus of us was the same — to spread the Love of Christ to readers. It may be by suspense, romance, historical or Amish, by men or women, to kids or young adults, but the focus remained the same.

As for me it was a prayerful, directive nad confirming time. God blessed me fully with affirmations that several people had been following my devos which I have been writing for several years on Christian Women Today or The Christian Woman. Some editors and agents,as well as other authors,  liked the premiss to my new novel, Hush in the Storm.

But more than any of that, I felt overwhelmed with grace. I could sense His arm around my should and the whispers in my ear that I was His child and doing His will.  My faith-trust bar was raised to a renewed level.

Dearest eternal Father,  may I carry in my heart this experience when doubts begin to seep into the walls of my mind and  jabs of angst produce temporary  spiritual amnesia. You stated through David in Psalm 111:4 that You have “caused your works to be remembered.”  May I continue to daily seek Your presence and find you, so I may tell others where to look in their lives. Through Your Son, our Savior, in His name for His Sake, I carry on. Amen.

Spitting Image?

A friend of mine in Toastmasters brought her husband to last night’s meeting. Her son has been in our club for quite sometime. It was uncanny to hear the similar voice and observe the same mannerisms in the father as I was used to observing in the son. Though they do not look at all alike, if I closed my eyes I could picture her son there instead.  As we talked after the meeting and I looked into her husband’s eyes, I saw her son’s expressions.

Paul tells the Colossians to take off their old, worldly character and “…put on your new nature, and be renewed as you learn to know your Creator and become like him.” (3:10 NLT). Jesus reflected His Father in everything He thought, did and said.  As a believer, I am a child of the same Living God and am to put on the same image. I am to reflect my Father as well.

Though I have never seen my Heavenly Father face to face, I doubt if we look alike on the outside. But, as I grow in Him, may I look more and more like Him in the mannerisms I emulate, in the words that come forth from my mouth, and in my thoughts. Like Amy Grant sang, I want, when people look at me, to say she has her Father’s eyes.

Today, the uncanny resemblance of a father to his son reminded me of how much like my Heavenly Father and His Son I should strive to be. I want people to look into my eyes and see Him, and unmistakably know I am His.