Answered prayer in Christian preaching emphasizes God's faithful response to the believer's petitions, often highlighting the interplay of faith, timing, and God's sovereign will (Matthew 7:7; James 5:16). Illustrations frequently use images of divine intervention, changed circumstances, or transformed desires to show how God provides, protects, and guides in response to persistent, trusting prayer.
Miracles may be rare, but they can happen. Pat Robertson's attitude on miracles:
"It is better to ask confidently for supernatural help, even
expect it - and sometimes be disappointed - than not to risk
asking at all.
"God, of course, can do what He wants, regardless of the faith or
expectations of any human being. But it's part of His scheme of
things in the universe to involve men and women in His work -
including miraculous work."
CHRISTMAS IN ‘45: God reshaped Kellie Crowe’s world via burning bomber, Nazi prison. [sermon version at end]
The African sky was a deep, brilliant blue. White snow-capped peaks of Mount Kilamanjaro could be seen from the window of the tiny Royal Dutch plane. Just as the pilot called over the intercom telling the seven passengers to prepare for landing, the twin-engine plane began its decent. It was at this moment when Hiram Clay Kiser peered out his window to see exactly the same situation he had prayed for 45 years prior while a soldier in World War II.
“I was weeping. I am sure the other six men from my church wondered why I was crying,” said 71-year-old H.C. Kiser. “I shared with them later how I had already had a revival in my heart and knew God was going to bless our mission trip in Africa. It was a big day in my life.”
From behind the dark-rimmed glasses framing a face with wrinkles seeming to tell their own individual stories, Kiser’s gentle eyes gleamed with excitement. Not just the excitement of his prayer being answered, but the excitement of a man who knows Jesus Christ and is fulfilled by telling of his blessings. Carefully telling his story so as not to forget a detail, Kiser leaned forward on the kitchen table and continued.
“I saw a little settlement carved out in the wilderness and I saw men and women, boys and girls come out of the little mud, thatched-roof huts. They waved at us up in the plane,” Kiser recounted with a tender smile. “It seems like the Lord just spoke to me. I had forgotten the prayer I had prayed 45 years prior, but the Lord hadn’t. The Lord said to me, ‘Now, you will have the opportunity to go and to witness to these people.’“
It was in the early fall of 1944 when H.C. Kiser first saw the African village of Imbengo aboard the B-17 Flying Fortress. As the children waved from the village, the then-20-year-old Kiser prayed a little prayer, “Lord, if I ever get the opportunity to go back to Africa and witness for you, please give me the opportunity to do so.”
This was the first prayer of many to be uttered -- first as a soldier, then as a prisoner of war in Nazi Germany.
This day marked the beginning of a greater consciousness for a farm boy from rural southwest Virginia. Ten thousand miles away from life as he knew it, Kiser experienced a swift and deeply impressionable transformation in his life. His worldview was broadened far past the barbed-wire fence of his family tobacco farm. His eyes were opened to a people of different skin colors and cultures foreign to his own. His faith was challenged much greater than any sermon he had heard from the pews of Abingdon (Va.) Baptist Church. His Lord became more real than the fading, framed print of Jesus and the Lord’s Supper -- his Lord became a God of miracles.
Clutching a German pewter table spoon inscribed with a Nazi swastika on the handle, Kiser told of countless miracles the Lord had performed during his seven months as a prisoner of war. The pewter spoon served as a primitive yet powerful reminder of the cost of freedom. It was with that very spoon Kiser suffered through the trials of Nazi prison camps. At night, while the bombs would fall, he would use the spoon to dig a hole large enough to bury his head so as to endure the tremendous concussion of the exploding bombs.
Kiser’s fierce trials began Oct. 12, 1944, aboard the B-17 bomber en route to bomb General Rommel’s army in North Africa. It was a mission not even scheduled for his crew, but assigned because of an ailing pilot of another crew.
Kiser said the Lord prepared his heart before going to bed on the eve of Oct. 11. In his Bible, he read the words of 1 Peter 4:12: “Beloved, think it not strange concerning the fiery trials which try you as though some strange thing happened to you. But rejoice in as much as you are partakers of Christ’s sufferings.”
“Little did I know when I read that on Oct. 11, that Oct. 12, the next day, I would become a prisoner of war,” Kiser said.
That Oct. 12, at 29,000 feet over Bologna, Italy, the Flying Fortress took a direct hit from an anti-aircraft shell exploding under the B-17 bomber. The concussion of the huge shell sent the plane upward, pinning the airmen with tremendous centripetal [centrifugal?] force. After the plane leveled, the crew opened escape hatches, harnessed parachutes and one by one bailed out of the spiraling bomber. All jumped, except for Kiser. During the hit, Kiser’s parachute had opened and spilled out in the plane.
“I got down on my knees and was crawling down through the waist compartment to get my torn parachute back in order so I could get out the door,” Kiser said, demonstrating with his hands the way in which he gathered the parachute. “I just wadded up all of the shroud lines and compressed the big canopy of the parachute to make it small enough to get through the door.”
“I’ll never forget it. I said a little prayer. I said, ‘Lord, should I jump out knowing my parachute is inoperable or should I ride this plane down?’ It seemed like the Lord just said to me, ‘H.C., I’m a God of miracles, and if you will just, by faith, leap out of this burning bomber, I’ll show you that I am a God of miracles.’ So, with that in mind, I jumped.”
Kiser’s parachute did not open. Falling rapidly, Kiser prayed for his chute to open, promising to witness for the Lord. Nothing happened.
Again and again, Kiser prayed, “Lord, I’m probably 10,000 miles away from home and my godly parents, grandparents and my pastor. It’s just you and I here. I want to live so badly. It looks like this is the time for me to die. Lord, apparently, you can’t open this chute.”
“When I told him he couldn’t, he told me he could. The parachute opened with a terrific jerk,” Kiser said as he grinned mischievously, adding a flavor of his humor. “I bit my tongue, my boots about flew off, and I said, ‘Lord, I thank you for opening my parachute, but you’ve just about broke my neck in the process.’“
After Kiser’s floating parachute seemed miraculously guided off the German target being bombed by allied planes above, protecting him from German gunfire, Kiser landed safely in a marsh just inside the enemy lines of Bologna, Italy. He was greeted by two Nazi soldiers pressing a bayonet in one of his rib cages and the nose of a machine gun in the other.
“You know, they say you become a man when you reach the age of 21. I was only 20 years old, but the events from the time we left that morning until we bedded down that night changed my whole life,” said Kiser, recounting the sight of an Italian man loading his dead family members onto a wagon covered with blood-soaked sheets, the stench of broken sewer lines and the realization of the power of the destruction from a single bomb. “I had never seen the havoc of the bombs until that day as I rode through the streets of Bologna with the German soldiers. You see, we had done that and it broke my heart.”
In his seven months as a prisoner of war, the blond-haired, blue-eyed, six-foot-two Kiser, withered away to an 80-pound skeleton of a man. He was spit upon and cursed by German soldiers. He can recount the feel of the saliva-drenched chewing tobacco sliding down his face. Forced to march cross country for miles in the dead of winter, bedding down in barns and under trees, Kiser holds the memory of leaving behind fellow soldiers who had frozen to death during the bitter night, forbidden to even shake the ice off them in the hope they were still alive.
“It got so bad. Men would fight over the size of potatoes,” Kiser said. “One night, we were all starving. We couldn’t see what we were eating. I just bit down on this thing in my mouth and it burst. It was a little red mouse. I gagged and held it up. I said, ‘Look here fellahs, I’ve got fresh meat.’ And, this ole’ boy said, ‘Aren’t you going to eat it?’ I said, ‘No, I’ll die before I eat that.’ He told me to drop it over near him. He ate it.”
From the dark interrogation cell with only the smell of human waste and the narrow rays of sunlight shining through a three-inch metal pipe used for air, the Lord spoke to Kiser in a way he will never forget. Reflecting on the dark, cold wall were two verses of Scripture from Hebrews scribbled by previous soldiers. “I read these words,” said Kiser. “‘Jesus will never forsake you,’ was written on the wall. And, then on down, it said, ‘Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today, yes and forever.’“
It was this promise which held Kiser up and spurred him to continue when he felt there was no hope. Alone in the dark, damp and cold cell, Kiser worshiped his Lord. “I got up, raised my hands and told the Lord I wanted to praise him, though it was difficult fearing execution. I began singing, ‘Praise God from Whom all blessings flow,’ the Doxology. It was the only thing I could think of.”
Fifty years later, Kiser is still praising his God from whom all blessings flow. World War II -- its fiery trials and at times triumphant victories of faith -- changed him deep down within his very soul. Never again did he see the world through the innocent eyes of a young farm boy. Never will he forget the faces of the nationals who did not know Jesus as their Lord. Never will he forget the presence of his Lord as he suffered through the torment of prison camp. At a young 20 years of age, Kiser’s world had been expanded far beyond the wisdom of his years.
On April 29, 1945, at prison camp Stalag VIIA in Moosburg, Germany, Kiser watched as two American soldiers pulled down the German swastika, throwing it to the side. “Then, this big, beautiful American flag went up,” said Kiser, recounting the liberation of his camp. “We just stood there and bawled. I said, ‘Lord, how could we ever have doubted you?’“
From a distance, Kiser watched as his world yet continued to change. He looked on as freedom integrated race. “I saw a white soldier from Washington, Ga., reach down and grab the arms of a black soldier, hoisting him up on a perch,” Kiser recounted. Together, the black soldier and the white soldier watched as the American flag of freedom rose high above the prison camp. “It was beautiful. It was a great day.”
__________
Copyright (c) 1995 Baptist Press RNbp5C01mrjB5C01v5C5f
========================================
Version used in sermon on Feb. 25, 1996:
The African sky was a deep, brilliant blue. White snow-capped peaks of Mount Kilamanjaro could be seen from the window of the tiny Royal Dutch plane. It was at this moment that Hiram Clay Kiser peered out his window to see exactly the same situation he had made a promise about 50 years ago in World War II.
It was in the early fall of 1944 when H.C. Kiser first saw the African village of Imbengo aboard the B-17 Flying Fortress. As the children waved from the village, the then-20-year-old Kiser made a little promise: “Lord, if I ever get the opportunity to go back to Africa and witness for you, please give me the opportunity to do so.”
Kiser had grown up in Baptist church in Virginia. He had godly parents and believed in God, but his faith had never been really tested. It was the first prayer of many he would utter as a soldier -- and then as a prisoner of war in Nazi Germany.
His fierce trials began Oct. 12, 1944, aboard the B-17 bomber en route to bomb General Rommel’s army in North Africa. It was a mission not even scheduled for his crew, but assigned because of an ailing pilot of another crew. Kiser said the Lord prepared his heart before going to bed on the eve of Oct. 11. In his Bible, he read the words of 1 Peter 4:12: “Beloved, think it not strange concerning the fiery trials which try you, as though some strange thing happened to you. But rejoice in as much as you are partakers of Christ’s sufferings.”
Years later Kiser said, “Little did I know when I read that on Oct. 11, the next day I would become a prisoner of war.”
On Oct. 12, at 29,000 feet over Bologna, Italy, his B-17 Flying Fortress took a direct hit from an anti-aircraft shell. The concussion of the huge shell sent the plane upward, pinning the airmen with tremendous centrifugal force. The crew opened escape hatches, harnessed parachutes and one by one bailed out of the spiraling bomber.
All jumped, except for Kiser. During the hit, Kiser’s parachute had opened and spilled out in the plane. “I got down on my knees and was crawling down through the waist compartment to get my torn parachute back so I could get out the door,” Kiser said. “I just wadded up all of the shroud lines and compressed the big canopy of the parachute to make it small enough to get through the door.”
I said a little prayer. I said, ‘Lord, should I jump out knowing my parachute is inoperable or should I ride this plane down?’ It seemed like the Lord just said to me, ‘H.C., I’m a God of miracles, and if you will just, by faith, leap out of this burning bomber, I’ll show you that I am a God of miracles.’ So, with that in mind, I jumped.”
Kiser’s parachute did not open. Falling rapidly, Kiser prayed for his chute to open, promising to witness for the Lord. Nothing happened. Again and again, Kiser prayed, “Lord, I’m probably 10,000 miles away from home and my godly parents, grandparents and my pastor. It’s just you and I here. I want to live so badly. It looks like this is the time for me to die. Lord, apparently, you can’t open this chute.”
“When I told him he couldn’t, he told me he could. The parachute opened with a terrific jerk. “I bit my tongue, my boots about flew off, and I said, ‘Lord, I thank you for opening my parachute, but you’ve just about broken my neck in the process.’“
Kiser landed safely in a marsh just inside the enemy lines of Bologna, Italy. He was greeted by two Nazi soldiers pressing a bayonet in one of his rib cages and the nose of a machine gun in the other. For seven months he was a prisoner of war. At night, during bombing raids, he would use a pewter spoon to dig a hole large enough to bury his head so he could endure the tremendous concussion of the exploding bombs. He was six-foot-two yet after those seven months he withered away to 80-pounds. He was spit upon and cursed by German soldiers. They were forced to march cross country for miles in the dead of winter, bedding down in barns and under trees. They had to leave behind fellow soldiers who had frozen to death during the bitter night, forbidden to even shake the ice off them in the hope they were still alive.
From the dark interrogation cell with only the smell of human waste and a thin shaft of cold light, the Lord spoke to Kiser in a way he will never forget. Reflecting on the dark, cold wall were two verses of Scripture from Hebrews scribbled by previous soldiers. “I read these words,” said Kiser. ‘Jesus will never forsake you,’ was written on the wall. And, then on down, it said, ‘Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today, yes and forever.’“
It was this promise which held Kiser up and spurred him to continue when he felt there was no hope. Alone in the dark, damp and cold cell, Kiser worshiped his Lord. “I got up, raised my hands and told the Lord I wanted to praise him, though it was difficult fearing execution. I began singing, ‘Praise God from Whom all blessings flow,’ the Doxology. It was the only thing I could think of.”
On April 29, 1945, at prison camp Stalag VIIA in Moosburg, Germany, Kiser watched as two American soldiers pulled down the German swastika, throwing it to the side. “Then, this big, beautiful American flag went up,” said Kiser, recounting the liberation of his camp. “We just stood there and bawled. I said, ‘Lord, how could we ever have doubted you?’“
Fifty years later he kept his own promise to God, and returned to Africa with men from his church to build a mission.
An extended story from the National Storytelling Festival that applies to Matthew 25:
At the beginning of the sixteenth century, the Jews were expelled from Spain. Many went to France, Germany, Greece, and some went to the Holy Land. Among them was Jacoby, a shoemaker by trade.
Jacoby was a kind man; but most of all, Jacoby was a devout man. He went to the synagogue every Sabbath and listened to what the rabbi was saying, even though Jacoby spoke Spanish and the rabbi spoke Hebrew.
One Sabbath, the rabbi mentioned in his sermon how at one time twelve loaves of bread were offered to God. Jacoby heard and understood the words bread and God, and he got excited. He ran home and said to his wife, “Esperanza! Guess what? God eats bread! And you are the best baker in the whole country! This week make your best bread, and I’ll bring it to God.”
That week Esperanza kneaded in the best ingredients and braided the dough with such love. Jacoby later took twelve loaves of bread to the synagogue.
“Senor Dios,” Jacoby said to God. “I’ve got your bread. You will love it. My wife, Esperanza, she’s a wonderful baker! You’ll eat every crumb!” Then Jacoby took the bread and put it into the holy ark.
No sooner did Jacoby leave than in came the shammes, the man who cleans up the synagogue. “Lord, you know I want to be here in this holy place; that’s all I want to do. But for seven weeks now I haven’t been paid. Lord, I need for you to make me a miracle. I believe you’re going to; maybe you have done it already. Maybe I’ll open the holy ark, and there will be my miracle.”
He walked to the ark and opened it, and there was his miracle. Twelve loaves of bread! Enough for the whole week.
The next day, Jacoby and Esperanza opened the ark and saw the bread was gone. A look of joy passed between them.
The next week it was the same. And the week after. This went on for months. The shammes learned to have faith in God, but if he hung around the synagogue, or came too early, there was no miracle.
And so thirty years went by.
Now an old man, Jacoby came one day to the synagogue with his loaves of bread. “Senor Dios,” he prayed, “I know your bread’s been lumpy lately. Esperanza’s arthritis — maybe you could do something? You’ll eat better!”
He put the bread in the ark and started to leave when suddenly the rabbi grabbed him. “What are you doing?” the rabbi demanded.
“I’m bringing God his bread,” Jacoby replied.
“God doesn’t eat bread!” said the rabbi.
Jacoby said, “He’s been eating Esperanza’s bread for thirty years.”
Then the two men heard a noise, and they hid.
No sooner did they hide, than in came the shammes. “I hate to bring it up, Lord, but you know your bread’s been lumpy lately. Maybe you could talk to an angel.”
When the shammes reached into the ark for the loaf of bread, the rabbi jumped out and grabbed him.
The rabbi angrily told the two men that what they were doing was sinful, going on and on, and all three men began to cry. Jacoby cried because he only wanted to do good. The rabbi because all this happened because of his sermon thirty years ago. And the shammes because he realized there would be no more bread.
Suddenly they heard laughter from the corner. They turned and saw the great mystic, Rabbi Isaac. Shaking his head and laughing, Rabbi Isaac said, “No, Rabbi, these men, they were not sinful. These men are devout! God has never had more pleasure than watching what goes on in your synagogue. On the Sabbath, he sits with his angels, and they laugh, watching this man bring the bread and the other man take the bread, while God gets all the credit! You must beg forgiveness of these men, Rabbi.”
Rabbi Isaac looked at Jacoby and said, “Jacoby, you must do something even more difficult. You must now bring your bread directly to the shammes and when you do, you must believe with perfect faith that it is the same as giving it to God.”
At this point of the story, I paused and then repeated the last sentence, “You must now bring your bread directly to the shammed and when you do, you must believe with perfect faith that it is the same as giving it to God.”
I concluded: “This sounds a lot like the words of another Rabbi who lived many years earlier: ‘Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me’ (Matt. 25:40).”
Several weeks after that sermon, a church member told me she now takes an extra lunch to work each day and gives it to a homeless person in the park.
________
[see #3965 for originating article on preaching with stories.]
God is just so ... Nice!!!! Lately, I’ve just been seeing Him do such specific and wonderful things in my life and I wanted to share one of the stories with you.
A week before Valentines Day, some of my friends called from Kentucky and asked me to come down for the weekend. It was a spontaneous trip and I needed to think about it. They told me if I’d drive down they’d pay for everything once I got there. I said they didn’t need to do that but that I’d call them back.
When I got off the phone and began to figure out how much it would cost in gas to get down there and back, I figured it would cost $40. Then I began to realize not only did I not have money to play with when I got there but I didn’t even know where the money would come from to get down there at all! I began to pray and ask God to provide the money and after awhile just decided that I’d simply have to swallow my pride and tell my friends I couldn’t afford it at the time.
WELL! That night I got a phone call from Visa. They called to tell me they wanted to communicate to me that I’m a valued customer...(but I’m a cynic and think they just wanted to coax me into using my card since I hadn’t recently)...but regardless, they wanted to communicate to me how they valued me so they were sending me gift certificates to the gas station of my choice for the amount of $40!!!! Is that random or what?! Not just plain gift certificates to be used anywhere, but specifically for gas. And not for $25 dollars or $50 ... but $40!!!
I shared the whole story with the Visa guy over the phone, assuring him he did not call me by chance! God just simply amazes me! He is so specific and so kind. He’s just very, very personal and wants to be involved in every area of our lives. I love knowing that and I hope you enjoy this reminder of that profound truth.
For Spring Break I’ll be helping lead a group of 21 students to the Middle East, a safe part - don’t worry. We’ll be passing out Bibles and interacting with people who have never even heard the name of Jesus before. Please pray for them to be open to the Gospel and pray for us as we encounter so many differences together. Pray too for our students - for God to grip their hearts with the needs of people all over the world separated from the truth and love of God. Please also pray for our safety and our sensitivity to a completely different culture. Thank you for everything!!!!
Because Jesus is Real!
In "The Peter Principle," Stan Toler writes:
I was a church planter at one time and felt impressed by the Lord to send $50 to some missionaries. When I shared with my wife what had been laid on my heart, we took a look at our checkbook and found $54 in our balance. Not much room for error there. She said, "Honey, I wasn't raised quite like you, but I trust you and have faith in your stewardship commitments. Let's do it." So I wrote the check and sent it to the Carters in Arizona, who were ministering to Native Americans in a small reservation village. Even though I knew it had been the right thing to do, I did begin to wonder how we were going to manage.
The next day I went to the post office, and amazed I picked up a letter from a student at Asbury Theological Seminary who had been one of my roommates at college. The letter read, "I just had you and Linda on my heart and felt impressed to write you. I'm enclosing a check for you, knowing you will probably put it in the offering plate next Sunday, but it is not for your church. It is for you." Fifty bucks!
When the check we sent arrived in Arizona, Doug Carter called immediately. "Stan, your check just arrived. What timing! We had an appointment with the doctor for our daughter, Angie, but we had no money to pay the bill. I was just about to make the dreaded phone call to tell the doctor, but I paused to look at the mail first, and there it was. The Lord was right on schedule, wasn't he?"
How could God touch a poor church planter on the shoulder and say, "Send $50 to missionaries in Arizona," even though he knew the church planter needed it, and at the same time touch a student at Asbury Theological Seminary on the shoulder and say to him, "Send $50 to the Tolers"? A cynical person might ask, "Why didn't God just impress the Asbury student to send his $50 directly to the missionaries in Arizona?"
To the first question I say, that's how God works. To the second I suggest that God wanted to pour out his blessings on three families instead of two.
--management guru Tom Peters
(Despair, Hope)
Copyright(c) 1998 by the author or Christianity Today, Inc./Leadership Journal. For reprint information call 630-260-6200 or e-mail LeaderJ@aol.com.
Fall 1998, Vol.XIX, No. 4, Page 67
*
The only survivor of a shipwreck was washed up on a small, uninhabited island. He prayed feverishly for God to rescue him and every day he scanned the horizon for help but none seemed forthcoming. Exhausted, he eventually managed to build a little hut out of driftwood to protect him from the elements and to store his few possessions.
But then one day, after scavenging for food, he arrived home to find his little hut in flames, the smoke rolling up to the sky. The worst had happened; everything was lost. He was stunned with grief and anger. "God, how could you do this to me!" he cried.
Early the next day, however, he was awakened by the sound of a ship that was approaching the island. It had come to rescue him. "How did you know I was here?" asked the weary man of his rescuers. "We saw your smoke signal," they replied.
It is easy to get discouraged when things are going bad. But we shouldn't lose heart, because God is at work in our lives, even in the midst of pain and suffering. Remember, next time your little hut is burning to the ground, it just may be a smoke signal that summons grace of God. For all the negative things we have to say to ourselves, God has a positive answer for it:
You say: "It's impossible"
God says: All things are possible (Luke 18:27)
You say: "I'm too tired"
God says: I will give you rest (Matthew 11:28-30)
You say: "Nobody really loves me"
God says: I love you (John 3:16 & John 13:34)
You say: "I can't go on"
God says: My grace is sufficient (II Corinthians 12:9 & Psalm 91:15)
You say: "I can't figure things out"
God says: I will direct your steps (Proverbs 3:5-6)
You say: "I can't do it"
God says: You can do all things (Philippians 4:13)
You say: "I'm not able"
God says: I am able (II Corinthians 9:8)
You say: "It's not worth it"
God says: It will be worth it (Roman 8:28)
You say: "I can't forgive myself"
God says: I FORGIVE YOU (I John 1:9 & Romans 8:1)
You say: "I can't manage"
God says: I will supply all your needs (Philippians 4:19)
You say: "I'm afraid"
God says: I have not given you a spirit of fear (II Timothy 1:7)
You say: "I'm always worried and frustrated"
God says: Cast all your cares on ME (I Peter 5:7)
You say: "I don't have enough faith"
God says: I've given everyone a measure of faith (Romans 12:3)
You say: "I'm not smart enough"
God says: I give you wisdom (I Corinthians 1:30)
You say: "I feel all alone"
God says: I will never leave you or forsake you (Hebrews 13:5)
*
Rev. Ray Stedman received a letter from two of his church's missionaries in Guatemala, Ron and Gretchen Bruno. Gretchen wrote of an incident that had encouraged her greatly. A poor widow in one of the congregations in Guatemala was down to her last twenty cents and without food. She began to pray about her problem. As she was praying, she felt a deep conviction that God was telling her to go to the large supermarket in town. She was to fill up several carts with groceries and take them to checkout stand #7. This was not just a vague feeling on her part but a deep, Spirit-born conviction.
The widow went to the supermarket the next morning, loaded enough groceries into carts to last two or three months, and took them to checkout stand #7. Just as she got there the cashier closed the stand to go out to lunch. The cashier suggested that the woman take her groceries to another stand, but the woman said, "No, I cannot. My Father told me to take these through checkout stand #7."
So she waited while the clerk went to lunch and came back again. The clerk was surprised to see the woman still there, and started to check out her groceries. Just then an announcement came over the loudspeaker: "This is our seventh year of business. "We are pleased to announce that whoever is checking out at checkout stand #7 gets free groceries."
One cold early evening many years ago my wife, Bartie, and I set out in our cabin cruiser for a picnic dinner on south San Francisco Bay. We waved to a college crew team heading out for a practice row, then proceeded down the channel toward the San Mateo Bridge. The choppy water soon turned into huge waves.
At the drawbridge, I signaled to the bridge tender to let us through. He shook his head, pointing to the whitecaps on the water ahead. We were about to take our pitching craft home when, in the distance near some mud flats, we saw a ruby-colored light glowing, shimmering in the shape of a cross. Bartie and I were mesmerized. We turned our craft in its direction. It was irresponsible of me -- in shallow muddy water and engine might suck up mud that can destroy it -- but I felt compelled to follow the cross. Now mud was coming from the exhaust pipe, and the temperature of our engine had risen into the danger zone, but the light drew me on.
Then we came up to it, only to find that the light was merely a buoy reflecting the red sunset. Bartie and I felt foolish; we had actually risked our boat to chase a mirage. "Look, the water is full of coconuts," Bartie said. But they weren't coconuts at all; they were the men from the rowing crew, whose shell had crashed into the bridge and sunk. One by one we pulled them aboard. They had been in the water for over an hour.
Facing death, gulping the icy salt water, they had come to a point of desperation and had prayed together for rescue. And that was when the cross began to shine for me. - GUIDEPOSTS
*
I have a cousin who is a Baptist minister. When we were growing up, we only saw each other a couple of times a year. Now we see each other even less.
A few years ago, when I hadn't seen him for some time, I suddenly began thinking about him and his family. I just couldn't get them off my mind. And for some reason, I felt compelled to send him a check for $100. I thought about it for a few days and made more than one aborted trip to the post office. I finally mailed it with a letter saying I hope I wasn't offending him, but I believed the Lord wanted me to do this.
A couple of weeks later I received a reply. My cousin said it never ceased to amaze him how God worked in his life. And now God had once again shown him, through us, that he would always meet our needs. My cousin said the only concern he had was that I had sent too much. All he had needed was $97.56.
___________________
By Lalia Winsett from Chicken Soup for the Christian Soul, Copyright 1997 by Jack Canfield, Mark Victor Hansen, Patty Aubery and Nancy Mitchell
*
One day a gentleman called upon an old man and during the talk the old man presented a lock of hair from the head of some child. The gentleman said to the old man, “I presume this is a curl cut from the head of some dear child long since gone to God.”
“No,” replied the old man, “it is a lock of my own hair and it is now almost seventy years since it was cut from my head.”
“But why prize it so highly?” said the man.
“Oh,” said the old man, “it speaks to me of God and His care more than does anything else I possess.” Then he related the following: “When I was a little child four years of age I was standing near my father watching him chop wood. As he was chopping the splinters flew here and there; some falling at my feet I picked them up, and in doing so I fell forward and in a moment my curly head lay upon the log just under the stroke of the axe. It was too late to stop the blow. Down came the axe. I screamed and my father fell to the ground in terror. He thought he had killed his boy.
We soon recovered. He took me in his arms and searched my body from head to foot for the deadly wound he was sure he had inflicted, but not a scar nor a drop of blood could be found. He then knelt upon the ground and gave thanks to God for His gracious care. Having done this, he took up his axe and found a few hairs upon its blade. Then turning to the log he found the curl, which you now see, sharply cut from my head. How great the escape.
The angel of the Lord had delivered. This lock my father kept all the days of his life, then left it to me as a memorial of God's faithfulness and care. It tells of my father's God and mine. I have many tokens of my heavenly Father's love 'during these many years, but somehow this speaks most plainly to my heart. It used to speak to my father's heart. It now speaks to mine.”
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William Moses Tidwell, “Effective Illustrations.”
A voyaging ship was wrecked during a storm at sea and only two of the men on it were able to swim to a small, desert-like island. The two survivors, not knowing what else to do, agreed that they had no other recourse but to pray to God. However, to find out whose prayer was more powerful, they agreed to divide the territory between them and stay on opposite sides of the island. The first thing they prayed for was food.
The next morning, the first man saw a fruit-bearing tree on his side of the land, and he was able to eat its fruit. The other man’s parcel of land remained barren.
After some days, the first man was lonely and he decided to pray for a wife. The next day, another ship was wrecked, and the only survivor was a woman who swam to his side of the island. On the other side of the island, the second man had nothing. Soon the first man prayed for a house, clothes, and more food. The next day, like magic, all of these were given to him. However, the second man still had nothing.
Finally, the first man prayed for a ship, so that he and his wife could leave the island. In the morning, he found a ship docked at his side on the island. The first man boarded the ship with his wife and decided to leave the second man on the island. He considered the other man unworthy to receive God’s blessings, since none of his prayers had been answered.
As the ship was about to leave, the first man heard a voice from heaven booming: “Why are you leaving your companion on the island?”
“My blessings are mine alone, since I was the one who prayed for them,” the first man replied. “His prayers were all unanswered and so he does not deserve anything.”
“You are mistaken,” the voice rebuked him. “He had only one prayer, which I answered.”
“Tell me,” the first man asked the voice, “what did he pray for that I should owe him anything?”
“He prayed that all your prayers be answered.”
As We Pray
Lord Jesus, You know every need,
help us as we pray;
What ever burden people share
Tell us what to say.
You have the answer for their hurts,
Give us wisdom clear,
Meet the inner needs they have,
Wipe away each tear.
Show them, Lord, You love them so,
You gave Your very life,
You died that they might be forgiv’n,
You’ll keep them through all strife.
Surround them with Your awesome grace,
From bondage give release,
Let them know You’re always there
To keep them in Your peace.
Muriel J. Stephenson
In February, 1931, our district [in China] was reduced to a state of famine, and there was yet another month to wheat harvest. We had helped many, but one day when the Christians came for help we had to tell them we had nothing left. I told them that God was a prayer-hearing and prayer-answering God. They proposed to come and join in my prayer each afternoon.
On the fourth day of the intercession I was called out of the meeting to see what was happening. In the north was a dark cloud approaching, and as we watched, it crossed our district and rained heavily. It was not an ordinary rain, but a deluge of little black seeds in such abundance they could be shoveled up. They asked, “What is it?” The seeds proved edible and the supply so great it sustained the people until harvest.
We learned later that the storm had risen in Mongolia and wrecked the places where this grain (called KaoLiang) was stored. The seed was carried 1,500 miles to drop on the district where prayer was being answered.
John Newton had received from the Lord some almost unbelievable answers to his petitions, and so he often engaged in "large asking." In support of this practice he would frequently tell the story of a man who asked Alexander the Great to give him a huge sum of money in exchange for his daughter's hand in marriage. The ruler consented and told him to request of his treasurer whatever he wanted. So he went and asked for an enormous amount.
The keeper to the funds was startled and said he couldn't give him that much without a direct order. Going to Alexander, the treasurer argued that even a small fraction of the money requested would more than serve the purpose. "No," replied Alexander, "let him have it all. I like that fellow. He does me honor. He treats me like a king and proves by what he asks that he believes me to be both rich and generous."
Newton concluded the story by saying, "In the same way, we should go to the throne of God's grace and present petitions that express honorable views of the love, riches, and bounty of our King!"
One day a lady was giving her little nephew some lessons. He was generally a good, attentive child, but on this occasion he could not fix his mind on his work. Suddenly he said, “Auntie, may I kneel down and ask God to help me find my marble?” His aunt having given her consent, the little boy knelt by his chair, closed his eyes, and prayed silently. Then he rose and went on with his lessons contentedly. Next day, almost afraid of asking the question, lest the child had not found his toy, and so might lose his simple faith, the lady said to him, “Well, dear have you found your marble?” "No, auntie” was the reply, “but God has made me not want to.”
We had a lovely couple in Dallas a number of years ago. He sold his business at a loss, went into vocational Christian work, and things got rather rough. There were four kids in the family. One night at family worship, Timmy, the youngest boy, said, “Daddy, do you think Jesus would mind if I asked Him for a shirt?”
“Well, no, of course not. Let’s write that down in our prayer request book, Mother.” So she wrote down “shirt for Timmy” and she added “size seven.” You can be sure that every day Timmy saw to it that they prayed for the shirt. After several weeks, one Saturday the mother received a telephone call from a clothier in downtown Dallas, a Christian businessman. “I’ve just finished my July clearance sale and knowing that you have four boys it occurred to me that you might use something we have left. Could you use some boy’s shirts?”
She said, “What size?” “Size seven.” “How many do you have?” she asked hesitantly. He said, “Twelve.” Many of us might have taken the shirts, stuffed them in the bureau drawer, and made some casual comment to the child. Not this wise set of parents. That night, as expected, Timmy said, “Don’t forget, Mommy, let’s pray for the shirt.” Mommy said, “We don’t have to pray for the shirt, Timmy.” “How come?” “The Lord has answered your prayer.” “He has?” “Right.”
So, as previously arranged, brother Tommy goes out and gets one shirt, brings it in, and puts it down on the table. Little Timmy’s eyes are like saucers. Tommy goes out and gets another shirt and brings it in. Out -- back, out -- back, until he piles 12 shirts on the table, and Timmy thinks God is going into the shirt business. But you know, there is a little kid in Dallas today by the name of Timothy who believes there is a God in heaven interested enough in his needs to provide boys with shirts.
In the city of Washington, many years ago, a teacher had in his class a mischievous boy who not only would not listen, or behave well, but who interfered with the other scholars' giving their attention. The teacher became discouraged regarding that boy. Later on the boy left Washington for the West, and there wasted his life in reckless dissipation. Years afterward he came to Baltimore and spent the night in debauchery, and next morning, while under the weakening spell of his dissipation, he started walking along the streets of Baltimore. He soon found himself in one of the city's cemeteries and suddenly noticed on a tombstone the name of his old Sunday school teacher.
A flood of memories rushed upon him. Things that the teacher said came back to him. His heart melted, he pulled himself over the little railing, went to the grave, and there he gave his life to Christ as he knelt down and kissed the very dirt on the grave of his faithful old teacher. He entered the ministry and became the pastor of one of the most prominent churches in Virginia, and one of the most greatly beloved of all the Virginia pastors. And yet his old teacher had gone to his grave years before, feeling that his work was a failure as far as that boy was concerned. -- Sunday School Times
Several years ago a minister in Cincinnati, Ohio, at the close of his sermon, felt led to do an unusual thing. He said, "If there is someone here that is sick of sin, and wants us to pray for you, raise your hand," A young man sprang to his feet, and said, "Pray for me, sir, I am sick and tired of sin." The minister learned later that for eight years the boy had been a wanderer on the earth. The minister advised him to write home and tell his parents what he had done. He did, and after several days of anxious waiting, a letter came from his mother, but it was bordered with black. With tear-dimmed eyes he read:
"My dear son: The joy which your letter brought to our hearts was only exceeded by the sadness which was there at the same time, for for as nearly as we can figure, the same hour that you found Jesus Christ as your Saviour, your father was going out into the skies. All day long he tossed upon his bed. Every little while he would cry out in misery, 'Oh God, save my poor wandering, drunken boy today!' We would try to divert his attention from your waywardness and sin, but his mind would roam from place to place, and he would cry out in sorrow, 'Oh, God, save my poor wandering, wayward boy today!' Just as he passed away he cried: 'Oh, God, save...' and he finished the prayer in the presence of Jesus."
Down at the bottom of the letter the mother added a note saying, "You are a Christian tonight because your father would not let God go."
-- Prairie Pastor And Overcomer
It had been an ordinary, busy day. I had attended classes at the seminary in France in the morning and had just spent my afternoon working at the Calvin Center in Geneva. For some reason, I left the Centre a little late, and I knew I wouldn't make it back to the seminary in time for dinner. I would have to stop somewhere in Geneva to get something to eat.
As I set out to find a restaurant, however, I couldn't shake the nagging feeling that there was something very wrong with this plan. It was a few minutes before it dawned on me: I had spent my last Swiss francs just that morning on gas! At the next stoplight, I pulled out my wallet to double check. Sure enough, it was empty! I pushed my wallet back into my pocket with just a little more force than necessary. What good was a wallet anyway, if there wasn't any money in it?
I reluctantly turned my car down the road that led to the French/Swiss border. I would simply have to go hungry tonight! But for some reason, when I passed Migros, a popular chain of grocery stores in Switzerland, I turned into the parking lot.
I didn't understand my actions. After all, there was no way they would sell me food without any money, and being a student, I didn't have a credit card. But some force stronger than me seemed to be dictating that I be there. I quietly bowed my head: “Lord, I don't know what to do. The cafeteria is closed. I'm hungry and I don't have any money. Please help me! Thanks for providing for me. In Jesus' mighty name, Amen.”
Again being pulled by a force that I couldn't seem to resist, I got out of my car and went into the grocery store. Boy, was that pure torture. Just looking at food made my stomachache and my mouth water! I could only stand it for a few minutes, then I turned and bolted back to my car. As I neared my parking spot, however, I noticed something laying on the pavement. To my amazement, it was a bill for 5 Swiss Francs! I picked it up, looking around it see who it might belong to, but the parking lot was empty. Immediately, I heard a peaceful inner voice:
“This is my gift for you.”
Those 5 Swiss Francs were just enough for a nice meal, and I was able to return to my dorm room completely satisfied.
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Source: Illustrator, http://www.answers2prayer.org
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[Original illustration at this number was a duplicate of HolwickID #1749]
Submitted by: John R. Chastain
newelim@risecom.net
My son Gilbert was eight years old and had been in Cub Scouts only a short time. During one of his meetings he was handed a sheet of paper, a block of wood and four tires and told to return home and give all to "dad". That was not an easy task for Gilbert to do. Dad was not receptive to doing things with his son. But Gilbert tried. Dad read the paper and scoffed at the idea of making a pine wood derby car with his young, eager son. The block of wood remained untouched as the weeks passed.
Finally, mom stepped in to see if I could figure this all out. The project began. Having no carpentry skills, I decided it would be best if I simply read the directions and let Gilbert do the work. And he did. I read aloud the measurements, the rules of what we could do and what we couldn't do. Within days his block of wood was turning into a pinewood derby car. A little lopsided, but looking great (at least through the eyes of mom).
Gilbert had not seen any of the other kids cars and was feeling pretty proud of his "Blue Lightning", the pride that comes with knowing you did something on your own. Then the big night came. With his blue pinewood derby in his hand and pride in his heart we headed to the big race. Once there my little one's pride turned to humility. Gilbert's car was obviously the only car made entirely on his own. All the other cars were a father-son partnership, with cool paint jobs and sleek body styles made for speed. A few of the boys giggled as they looked at Gilbert's, lopsided, wobbly, unattractive vehicle. To add to the humility Gilbert was the only boy without a man at his side. A couple of the boys who were from single parent homes at least had an uncle or grandfather by their side, Gilbert had "mom". As the race began it was done in elimination fashion. You kept racing as long as you were the winner.
One by one the cars raced down the finely sanded ramp. Finally it was between Gilbert and the sleekest, fastest looking car there. As the last race was about to begin, my wide eyed, shy eight year old asked if they could stop the race for a minute, because he wanted to pray. The race stopped Gilbert hit his knees clutching his funny looking block of wood between his hands. With a wrinkled brow he set to converse with his Father. He prayed in earnest for a very long minute and a half. Then he stood, smile on his face and announced, 'Okay, I am ready."
As the crowd cheered, a boy named Tommy stood with his father as their car sped down the ramp. Gilbert stood with his Father within his heart and watched his block of wood wobble down the ramp with surprisingly great speed and rushed over the finish line a fraction of a second before Tommy's car. Gilbert leaped into the air with a loud "Thank you" as the crowd roared in approval.
The Scout Master came up to Gilbert with microphone in hand and asked the obvious question, "So you prayed to win, huh, Gilbert?" To which my young son answered, "Oh, no sir. That wouldn't be fair to ask God to help you beat someone else. I just asked Him to make it so I don't cry when I lose."
Children seem to have a wisdom far beyond us. Gilbert didn't ask God to win the race, he didn't ask God to fix the outcome; Gilbert asked God to give him strength in the outcome. When Gilbert first saw the other cars he didn't cry out to God, "No fair, they had a fathers help". No, he went to his Father for strength.
Perhaps we spend too much of our prayer time asking God to rig the race, to make us number one, or too much time asking God to remove us from the struggle -- when we should be seeking God's strength to get through the struggle.
Gilbert's simple prayer spoke volumes to those present that night. He never doubted that God would indeed answer his request. He didn't pray to win, thus hurt someone else -- he prayed that God supply the grace to lose with dignity. Gilbert, by his stopping the race to speak to his Father also showed the crowd that he wasn't there without a "dad", but His Father was most definitely there with him. Yes, Gilbert walked away a winner that night, with his Father at his side.
I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me. Philippians 4:13
Helen Roseveare, a famous missionary doctor from England to Zaire (Congo), told this as it happened to her in Africa. She told it in her testimony at Thomas Road Baptist Church. The next week Jerry Falwell, choked up and said, "I almost feel guilty for standing in the pulpit after the one who spoke here last week".
A LITTLE AFRICAN GIRL'S PRAYER
"One night I had worked hard to help a mother in the labor ward; but in spite of all we could do she died leaving us with a tiny premature baby and a crying two-year-old daughter. We would have difficulty keeping the baby alive, as we had no incubator. (We had no electricity to run an incubator.) We also had no special feeding facilities. Although we lived on the equator, nights were often chilly with treacherous drafts. One student midwife went for the box we had for such babies and the cotton wool the baby would be wrapped in. Another went to stoke up the fire and fill a hot water bottle. She came back shortly in distress to tell me that in filling the bottle, it had burst. Rubber perishes easily in tropical climates. "And it is our last hot water bottle!" she exclaimed.
As in the West it is no good crying over spilled milk, so in Central Africa it might be considered no good crying over burst water bottles. They do not grow on trees, and there are no drugstores down forest pathways. "All right," I said, "Put the baby as near the fire as you safely can, and sleep between the baby and the door to keep it free from drafts. "Your job is to keep the baby warm."
The following noon, as I did most days, I went to have prayers with any of the orphanage children who chose to gather with me. I gave the youngsters various suggestions of things to pray about and told them about the tiny baby. I explained our problem about keeping the baby warm enough, mentioning the hot water bottle. The baby could so easily die if it got chills. I also told them of the two-year-old sister, crying because her mother had died. During the prayer time, one ten-year-old girl, Ruth, prayed with the usual blunt conciseness of our African children. "Please, God," she prayed, "send us a water bottle. It'll be no good tomorrow, God, as the baby will be dead, so please send it this afternoon."
While I gasped inwardly at the audacity of the prayer, she added by way of a corollary, "And while You are about it, would You please send a dolly for the little girl so she'll know You really love her?" As often with children's prayers, I was put on the spot. Could I honestly say, "Amen?" I just did not believe that God could do this. Oh, yes, I know that He can do everything. The Bible says so. But there are limits, aren't there? The only way God could answer this particular prayer would be by sending me a parcel from the homeland. I had been in Africa for almost four years at that time, and I had never, ever received a parcel from home. Anyway, if anyone did send me a parcel, who would put in a hot water bottle? I lived on the equator!
Halfway through the afternoon, while I was teaching in the nurses' training school, a message was sent that there was a car at my front door. By the time I reached home, the car had gone, but there, on the verandah, was a large twenty-two pound parcel. I felt tears pricking my eyes. I could not open the parcel alone, so I sent for the orphanage children. Together we pulled off the string, carefully undoing each knot. We folded the paper, taking care not to tear it unduly. Excitement was mounting. Some thirty or forty pairs of eyes were focused on the large cardboard box. From the top, I lifted out brightly colored, knitted jerseys. Eyes sparkled as I gave them out. Then there were the knitted bandages for the leprosy patients, and the children looked a little bored. Then came a box of mixed raisins and sultanas that would make a nice batch of buns for the weekend.
Then, as I put my hand in again, I felt the ... could it really be? I grasped it and pulled it out - yes, a brand-new, rubber hot water bottle! I cried. I had not asked God to send it; I had not truly believed that He could. Ruth was in the front row of the children. She rushed forward, crying out, "If God has sent the bottle, He must have sent the dolly, too!" Rummaging down to the bottom of the box, she pulled out the small, beautifully dressed dolly. Her eyes shone! She had never doubted.
Looking up at me, she asked: "Can I go over with you, Mummy, and give this dolly to that little girl, so she'll know that Jesus really loves her?"
That parcel had been on the way for five whole months. Packed up by my former Sunday school class, whose leader had heard and obeyed God's prompting to send a hot water bottle, even to the equator. And one of the girls had put in a dolly for an African child - five months before - in answer to the believing prayer of a ten-year-old to bring it "that afternoon."
"Before they call, I will answer!" (Isaiah 65:24) Live as if Christ died yesterday, arose this morning, and is coming back tomorrow.
Ed Murphy had been raised in a Roman Catholic family in the New England area. He was fourteen years old before he even saw a Protestant, and when he saw his first one he expected to see horns sprouting from his head, and a tail waving around behind. Through a remarkable experience, where God put him in a lonely lumber camp with a Christian boy, he came to know the Lord Jesus Christ. This lad gave Ed a New Testament, and, through the reading of that New Testament, Ed Murphy's soul was captured for Christ.
Some time afterward he determined to obey God's call to go to a mission field, and he enrolled in Biola University in California. When his Catholic family heard that he was planning to go to Bible School, they called him in, and told him that if he went there he could never be their son again. His mother was particularly opposed to it, and told him that if he went he was never to come home again. But Ed felt led of God, and so he went to Bible School. When he drew near to the close of the first year he had a job lined up for the summer to meet his expenses, but he was lacking sixty dollars to pay the final bills for the current semester. Before he took his final exam, it was required that he pay this money. He tried every way he knew to raise the money, but he couldn't. Finally, in desperation, he wrote his mother saying, "Mother, I know you don't like what I'm doing, but I feel led of God to do it. I have now come to a difficult time. I lack sixty dollars of my school expenses, but I have to pay it before I take my final exam. You've helped me in other matters in the past, and I just wondered if, perhaps, you might relent and help me again. I'll pay you back this summer."
His mother wrote back, "Son, when you left this house to go to a Protestant Bible college, I told you that you were never to come back again. I wanted nothing to do with you as long as you continued in the Protestant faith. You told me at that time that your God would take care of you, but now that you come to a time of trouble you run back to me. If your God is really the God you say he is, then let him take care of you. I will be in Los Angeles this next weekend. You tell me that if you haven't received this money you will have to drop out of school. I'll be at this address, and if you want to come home with me, come there, and I'll know that you've dropped all this foolishness."
It was a great time of testing for Ed. He prayed about it, asked God again to supply, but the day came on which he had to take the exams and there was no money. So he packed his bags, called his mother, and told her he would meet her to go home with her. Just as he was going out the door with his bags the Dean of Education stopped him, and asked him to come into the office for a moment. Ed went in, and the Dean said, "How much was it that I said you owed the school?" Ed said, "Sixty dollars." The Dean said, "Well, it's strange. Just as you were going down the hall I was reading this slip with your name on it which says you have forty dollars to your credit." Ed said, "There must be some mistake. I don't know anything about that. I only know I owe the sixty dollars." So the Dean called to check it out, and it turned out that someone that very morning, quite anonymously, had sent in one hundred dollars, credited to the account of Ed Murphy.
When he went to meet his mother she said, "Well, son, you've given up your Protestant faith, have you?" He said, "No, mother, I haven't." She said, "But you can't go back to school." He said, "Yes, I can. God has supplied, and given me not only the sixty dollars but forty dollars in addition." His mother did not say a word. She turned around, went out the door, and went home. But two weeks later she wrote to him, "Ed, I want to know this kind of a God." That incident has been a source of strength to Ed Murphy through the years. Whenever he is discouraged he has learned to look back to the time when God dealt with him in this remarkable way.
Each summer, we travel with a team of young Native Americans to take the hope of Jesus to America's reservation young people. And God has really shown up powerfully for these spiritual warriors. Like the night last summer in a very remote corner of New Mexico when our last outreach was about to be rained out. The previous night, the thunderstorms had hit the basketball court just as we were about to present the Gospel. This was now our last opportunity to invite young people to come to Christ in an area where the spiritual darkness is very deeply entrenched.
Well, once again, just before invitation time, wouldn't you know it, a wall of ominous storm clouds was moving toward the school. I asked six of our team members to pray in the face of that approaching storm, and, as I said, "Stand against that storm in Jesus' Name." They got in a huddle and they prayed really fervently and minutes later they came running to tell me what had happened - "The storm suddenly divided in two and it went around the school!" That night one out of five people in that village made a public commitment to Jesus Christ!
Well, I'm Ron Hutchcraft and I want to have A WORD WITH YOU today about "Standing Against The Storm."
That may be exactly what God is wanting you to do right now - to stand in prayer against the storm that is threatening your children, or your marriage, or your ministry, or something or someone that you care deeply about.
In Isaiah 36, beginning with verse 18, our word for today from the Word of God, a deadly military storm is bearing down on King Hezekiah and the Jews. The seemingly invincible Assyrian army has gobbled up every kingdom in its path - and now they are moving against Jerusalem. The Assyrian king sent this letter to Hezekiah - "Do not let the god you depend on deceive you when he says, 'Jerusalem will not be handed over to the king of Assyria.' Surely you have heard what the kings of Assyria have done to all the countries, destroying them completely." The storm has engulfed everything in its path - and Jerusalem is next.
Now notice Hezekiah's response: "He went up to the temple of the Lord and spread it out before the Lord. And Hezekiah prayed to the Lord, 'O Lord Almighty ... enthroned between the cherubim, You alone are God over all the kingdoms of the earth ... Now O Lord our God, deliver us from his hand so that all the kingdoms of the earth may know that You alone, O Lord, are God.'" God tells Hezekiah He is going to intervene "because you have prayed to Me." Outcome? "The angel of the Lord went out and put to death one hundred and eighty-five thousand men in the Assyrian camp ... So Sennacherib, king of Assyria, broke camp and withdrew."
Now about that storm that is bearing down on you or someone you love. You have the same God Hezekiah did - and He is Lord over this seemingly unstoppable storm. It's time for you to do what those Native American young people did last summer - get on your knees and stand against that storm in Jesus' Name. Do a Hezekiah - spread the threat out before your Lord. When you pray, don't focus on the threat - but, like King Hezekiah, focus on the greatness and total sovereignty of the God in whom you are trusting and unleash His authority on that storm!
What looks like something that is going to bring destruction may actually be a unique opportunity for you, and all those around you, to see what God can do! This is about His glory being seen! So "come boldly to the throne of grace" (Hebrews 4:16) ... lay out the threat before the Lord ... stand against that storm ... and expect something that only God can do!
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Copyright © Ron Hutchcraft Ministries, Inc., PO Box 400, Harrison, AR 72602. Used by permission. Written by Ron Hutchcraft. "Practical Answers to Real Life Issues"
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[Holwick- This story is circulating among Christians on the internet. A friend of Dwight's contacted me and said he shares these "internet stories" as tongue-in-cheek but someone must have misunderstood the humorous intent and labeled it as really-true.]
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Dwight Nelson recently told a true story about a pastor. The pastor had a kitten that climbed up a tree in his backyard and was then afraid to come down. The pastor coaxed, offered warm milk, etc. The kitty would not come down. The tree was not sturdy enough to climb, so the pastor decided that if he tied a rope to his car he could bend the tree down enough to get the kitten. He did all this, checking his progress frequently. But as he moved the car a little further forward, the rope broke. The tree went "boing!" and the kitten instantly sailed through the air - out of sight.
The pastor felt terrible. He walked all over the neighborhood asking people if they'd seen a little kitten. No. Nobody had seen a stray kitten. So he prayed, "Lord, I just commit this kitten to your keeping," and went on about his business.
A few days later he was at the grocery store, and met one of his church members. He was amazed to see she was buying cat food. Now this woman was a cat-hater and everyone knew it, so he asked her, "Why are you buying cat food when you hate cats so much?" She replied, "You won't believe this," and told him how her little girl had been begging her for a cat, but she kept refusing. Then a few days before, the child had begged again, so the Mom finally told her little girl, "Well if God gives you a cat, I'll let you keep it." (Can you see where this is heading?)
She told the pastor, "I watched my child go out in the yard, get on her knees, and ask God for a cat. And really, Pastor, you won't believe this, but I saw it with my own eyes. A kitten suddenly came flying out of the blue sky, with its paws outspread, and landed right in front of her."
Never underestimate the Power of God!
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I still remember the day Marta walked into my office, plopped herself down and asked me to pray that she and Ward would be able to have children. I promised to pray, and did, regularly. In time, they had three of the brightest, sweetest children you've ever seen. They are young adults now and barely know me, but I take special joy in having prayed them into the world.
For Mack, I prayed that God would send him a wife. I said, “Lord, Mack is a truly fine person. He has kept himself faithful to you all these years. You must have a godly woman out there somewhere who would be right for him.” He did. I performed Mack and Kathleen's wedding last winter.
My son Neil was on an outing with his three children. The day before, he had suggested they pray for good weather. On their way to the park, he asked 10-year-old Grant if he had prayed for this beautiful day. “No,” he said. “I forgot.” He asked 7-year-old Abby. “I forgot too,” she said.
“Oh, good,” said her twin Erin from the back seat. “Then it was my miracle.”
I pray for Graham, the 8-year-old son of Ed and Sherry. Over two years ago, he had surgery for a brain tumor which was followed by various complications. Eventually, Graham came home from the hospital normal in every way except one: He had lost his eyesight.
The medical team could find no reason for the blindness. In time, Ed and Sherry enrolled Graham in special classes for the newly blind here in New Orleans, and he was even featured on the evening news. He has adapted well, and the family has been an incredible witness to the rest of us on how to handle life's setbacks. We all continue, however, to pray for God to restore Graham's vision.
“One of these days,” I tell Ed and Sherry, “Graham is going to open his eyes and see. When he does, I want to be one of the many who prayed for that miracle.”
In Erin's words, I want it to be my miracle. Put another way, I do not want to miss the blessing of having asked the Father for this miracle.
Ed asked me one day, “What if it happens in the middle of a worship service? Is it all right with you if Graham comes walking down the aisle of the church?” We both laughed at such a precious picture. I assured him a revival would break out in the congregation.
When tennis star Arthur Ashe came down with cancer, the world took notice. Struck down in the prime of his life, Ashe demonstrated great courage and faith. He said one thing, however, that has troubled me all these years.
“I have not prayed for my own healing. That would be selfish.”
Is it selfish to pray for your own healing, for a special blessing from the Heavenly Father? Perhaps. It probably depends on your heart. Arthur Ashe was the father of some children he dearly loved. From here, it seems he could have prayed for healing for their sake. As a recovered cancer victim, he would have been given a megaphone, so to speak, to direct the world's attention to cancer research, to the power of prayer, and to the special concerns of patients. He could have asked for healing for their sake.
Is it possible God does not heal (or fill other needs) because we do not ask? How we answer says volumes about what we believe concerning prayer.
James 4:2 answers our question. “You have not,” we read, “because you ask not.”
We all remember the famous prayer of Jabez, from 1 Chronicles 4:10: “Oh, that thou wouldst bless me indeed, and enlarge my border, and that thy hand might be with me, and that thou wouldst keep me from evil that it may not pain me.” Over the past decade, millions have debated whether Jabez' prayer was selfish. But it's worth noting that God answered it. Plainly, the Lord decided this man could be trusted with the blessing he desired.
Give God credit for blessing, but give Jabez credit for asking.
I encourage people to go ahead and pray for their healing or that special need. Let God sort it out as to who gets the miracle. It's not like my little prayer is going to upset the balance of the universe. Ask Him! To those who asks, “But what if it's not God's will?” I say, “Then He won't do it.”
In the late 19th century, American evangelist Dwight L. Moody was vacationing in England. His ministry schedule had exhausted him and friends thought the voyage to Britain would do him good. One day, a pastor read in the newspaper that the well-known American evangelist was due to arrive in London on such-and-such a ship. He contacted Moody and invited him to preach in his church. The sermon was so well-received that they agreed to continue holding services indefinitely. Word spread and crowds gathered. Lives were being changed as people turned to Jesus Christ at the preaching of this unlettered American layman.
One morning, the host pastor asked Mr. Moody to accompany him on a house call. An invalid woman in his church would welcome their visit.
That day, in a humble cottage, these two men of God received the shock of their lives. The sickly woman showed them newspaper clippings of the ministry of Dwight L. Moody which she had cut out over the previous several years and saved. She said, “For a long time, I have prayed that God would send you to England, Mr. Moody. We need the touch of God in our land, too.”
The religious awakening that swept over much of England through the preaching of Dwight Moody was her miracle.
*
[Original illustration at this number was a duplicate of HolwickID #886]
Here's more evidence that -- in medicine, as in all of life -- prayer seems to work in mysterious ways.
In one recent study, women at an in vitro fertilization clinic had higher pregnancy rates when total strangers were praying for them. Another study finds that people undergoing risky cardiovascular surgery have fewer complications when they are the focus of prayer groups.
The fertilization study -- conducted at a hospital in Seoul, Korea -- found a doubling of the pregnancy rate among women who were prayed for, says Rogerio A. Lobo, MD, chair of Obstetrics and Gynecology at Columbia University School of Medicine in New York City. His study appears in the September issue of the Journal of Reproductive Medicine.
"It's a highly-significant finding," Lobo tells WebMD. "I'm first to say we don't know what this means."
The randomized study involved 199 women who were undergoing in vitro fertility treatments at a hospital in Seoul, Korea, during 1998 and 1999. All women were selected for the study based on their similar age and fertility factors, Lobo tells WebMD.
Half the women were randomly assigned to have one of several Christian prayer groups in the U.S., Canada, and Australia pray for them. A photograph of each patient was given to "her" prayer group. While one set of prayer groups prayed directly for the women, a second set of prayer groups prayed for the first set, and a third group prayed for both groups.
Neither the women nor their medical caregivers knew about the study -- or that anyone was praying for them.
"We were very careful to control this as rigorously as we could," Lobo tells WebMD. "We deliberately set it up in an unbiased way." That meant not informing patients they were being prayed for, so it would not influence the women's outcome. Whether the patients were praying for themselves -- or if others were praying for them -- "we don't know," he says.
The women in the "prayed for" group became pregnant twice as often as the other women, he says.
"We were not expecting to find a positive result," says Lobo. Researchers have re-analyzed the data several times, to detect any discrepancies -- but have been unable to find any, he says.
Lobo admits there may be some "biological variable" that they have not discovered, which could account for the high success rate among the prayed-for women. He and his colleagues are already planning a follow-up study also involving in vitro fertilization.
The second study involves 150 patients -- all having serious heart problems, all scheduled for a procedure called angioplasty, in which doctors thread a catheter up into a clogged heart artery, open it up, and insert a little device called a stent to prop it open.
Patients who were prayed for during their procedure had far fewer complications, reports lead author Mitchell W. Krucoff, MD, director of the Ischemia Monitoring Laboratory at Duke University Medical Center and the Durham Veterans Administration Medical Center in Durham, NC.
His study appears in the current issue of the American Heart Journal.
Krucoff enrolled 150 patients who were going to have the stent procedure, and then randomly assigned them to receive one of five complementary therapies: guided imagery, stress relaxation, healing touch, or intercessory 'off site' prayer -- which meant they were prayed for by others, or to no complementary therapy.
All the complementary therapies -- except off-site prayer -- were performed at the patient's bedside at least one hour before the cardiac procedures.
Seven prayer groups of varying denominations around the world -- Buddhists, Catholics, Moravians, Jews, fundamentalist Christians, Baptists, and the Unity School of Christianity -- prayed for specific patients during their procedures.
Each prayer group was assigned names, ages, and illnesses of specific patients they were to pray for. None of the patients, family members, or staff knew who was being prayed for. None of the patient-prayer group matchings were based on denomination.
"This was a very rigorously controlled study, just as we would look at any therapeutic -- a new cardiovascular drug, a new stent -- and see the results in terms of patients' outcomes," Krucoff tells WebMD. The goal was to determine which therapies warranted further study in a bigger trial.
Those in the "prayed for" group had fewer complications than any of the patients, including those receiving other complementary therapies, he says. "Although it's not statistical proof, it's not certainty, it is suggestive -- to the point that we've already begun a phase II trial."
He has already enrolled more than 300 people in a phase II study.
Why did prayer produce the best outcome? "There are no satisfactory mechanistic explanations," he says. That's why studies that measure patients' outcomes are best for this kind of study, he says. Even if you don't understand why it's happening, at least you have something to measure -- how the patient did."
Both studies are "well-controlled," preliminary trials "providing more evidence that there's something to it all," says Blair Justice, PhD, professor of psychology and psychobiologist (mind-body medicine) at the University of Texas School of Public Health in Houston.
Justice, who has followed prayer research for several decades, reviewed the reports for WebMD.
"Research into prayer has been going on a lot longer than is reflected in mainstream journals," Justice tells WebMD. "Since the 1980s, there have been several well-controlled prospective studies, good evidence that this wasn't some product of a good imagination."
Some of the studies conducted in Europe involved nonhuman organisms -- enzyme cells, bacteria, plants, animals -- which could not be affected by other complicating factors, including faith. Groups were assigned to pray for their growth; then the prayers were reversed, and people were praying against growth. Each time, the plants responded according to the focus of the prayers.
"There seems to be something to it," he says.
While current technology does not allow researchers to understand the mechanism behind prayer -- what makes it work -- it's much like gravity and other natural phenomena that were considered mysterious forces by earlier cultures, Justice tells WebMD.
"Keppler was accused of being insane when he said tides were due to the tug of lunar gravity, even Galileo considered it to be ravings of a lunatic -- until Marconi proved the theory," he says.
"It's just like anything else, you don't have to believe in it for prayer to have an effect," says Justice.
__________________
© 1996-2002 WebMD Corporation. All rights reserved.
*
Last summer I went with my church youth group on a mission trip to the Bahamas, where twice a day we performed a puppet show for youngsters in parks and schools. And twice a day, it seemed, our old school bus broke down.
One hot afternoon we were on our way to a performance when the bus came to a sudden halt. “Not again,” everyone grumbled. Our youth leaders, Bill and Daryl, stepped out to see what was wrong. Up until then I had maintained a good attitude about the bus’s unreliability, but this was the last straw. We were stuck on a deserted side street in the sweltering heat with not even a phone booth nearby to call someone for help.
“Guys,” Daryl reported, “this is serious. Our clutch has broken and the bolt that holds it together has fallen off somewhere back on the road. We had a big bucket of spare nuts and bolts, but not one of them fits. Just pray.”
We joined hands and fervently asked God for help. When we looked up, we saw an odd sight. Bill was kneeling on the pavement, picking something out of the asphalt with his pocket knife. He leaned under the hood of the bus with the object, then came to us with a big smile on his face.
“As you were praying, I looked down and there beside the tire, embedded in the pavement, was an old bolt. On an outside chance I dug it up and screwed it on. It fit!” The bus started up again and we drove to the puppet show, filled with awe at the power of prayer.
Ephesians 6:10-18 — The effective, fervent prayer of a righteous man avails much. — James 5:16
[Bible In One Year: 1 Samuel 1-3; Luke 8:26-56]
While crossing the Atlantic on a ship many years ago, Bible teacher and author F. B. Meyer was asked to speak to the passengers. An agnostic listened to Meyer’s message about answered prayer and told a friend, “I didn’t believe a word of it.” Later that same day, the agnostic went to hear Meyer speak to another group of passengers. But before he went to the meeting, he put two oranges in his pocket. On his way, he passed an elderly woman who was fast asleep in her deck chair. Her arms were outstretched and her hands were wide open, so as a joke he put the two oranges in her palms. After the meeting, he saw the woman happily eating one of the pieces of fruit.
“You seem to be enjoying that orange,” he remarked with a smile. “Yes, sir,” she replied, “My Father is very good to me.” “What do you mean?” pressed the agnostic. She explained, “I have been seasick for days. I was asking God somehow to send me an orange. I fell asleep while I was praying. When I awoke, I found He had sent me not only one but two oranges!” The agnostic was amazed by the unexpected confirmation of Meyer’s talk on answered prayer. Later, he put his trust in Christ. Yes, God answers prayer!
For answered prayer we thank You, Lord,
We know You’re always there
To hear us when we call on You;
We’re grateful for Your care. — JDB
God always gives us what we ask— or something better.
Grandpa Nybakken loved life -- especially when he could play a trick on somebody. At those times, his large Norwegian frame shook with laughter while he feigned innocent surprise, exclaiming, "Oh, forevermore!" But on a cold Saturday in downtown Chicago, Grandpa felt that God played a trick on him, and Grandpa wasn't laughing.
Mother's father worked as a carpenter. On this particular day, he was building some crates for the clothes his church was sending to an orphanage in China. On his way home, he reached into his shirt pocket to find his glasses, but they were gone. He remembered putting them there that morning, so he drove back to the church. His search proved fruitless.
When he mentally replayed his earlier actions, he realized what happened. The glasses had slipped out of his pocket unnoticed and fallen into one of the crates, which he had nailed shut. His brand new glasses were heading for China!
The Great Depression was at its height, and Grandpa had six children. He had spent twenty dollars for those glasses that very morning.
"It's not fair," he told God as he drove home in frustration. "I've been very faithful in giving of my time and money to your work, and now this."
Several months later, the director of the orphanage was on furlough in the United States. He wanted to visit all the churches that supported him in China, so he came to speak one Sunday night at my grandfather's small church in Chicago. Grandpa and his family sat in their customary seats among the sparse congregation.
The missionary began by thanking the people for their faithfulness in supporting the orphanage.
"But most of all," he said, "I must thank you for the glasses you sent last year. You see, the Communists had just swept through the orphanage, destroying everything, including my glasses. I was desperate.
"Even if I had the money, there was simply no way of replacing those glasses. Along with not being able to see well, I experienced headaches every day, so my coworkers and I were much in prayer about this. Then your crates arrived. When my staff removed the covers, they found a pair of glasses lying on top."
The missionary paused long enough to let his words sink in. Then, still gripped with the wonder of it all, he continued: "Folks, when I tried on the glasses, it was as though they had been custom-made just for me! I want to thank you for being a part of that."
The people listened, happy for the miraculous glasses. But the missionary surely must have confused their church with another, they thought. There were no glasses on their list of items to be sent overseas.
But sitting quietly in the back, with tears streaming down his face, an ordinary carpenter realized the Master Carpenter had used him in an extraordinary way.
________
By Cheryl Walterman Stewart from Chicken Soup for the Christian Family Soul, copyright 2000 by Jack Canfield and Mark Victor Hansen
More than half a century ago, George Mueller began to pray for a group of friends. I asked Mr. Mueller, a short time before he died, if he had asked anything of God that had not been granted, and he told me he had prayed sixty-two years, three months, five days, two hours — with his mathematical precision — for two men to be converted, and neither of them showed any signs of that happening.
I said, “Do you expect God to convert them?”
“Certainly. Do you suppose that God would put upon His child for sixty-two years the burden of two souls if He had no purpose of their conversion?”
Shortly afterward he died, and I was preaching in his pulpit, in Bristol, and referred to this occurrence. As I was going out, a lady said, “One of those men was my uncle, and he was converted, and died a few weeks ago.” I understand that the other man was brought to Christ in Dublin.
Hudson Taylor was a man of great faith in God, as well as a great missionary. When he first went to China, it was in a sailing vessel. Very close to the shore of a cannibal island the ship was becalmed, and it was slowly drifting shoreward, unable to go about, and the inhabitants of the island were eagerly anticipating a feast. The captain came to Mr. Taylor and asked him to pray for the help of God.
“I will,” said Taylor, “provided you set your sail to catch the breeze.”
The captain declined to make himself a laughing stock by unfurling sails in a dead calm.
Taylor said, “I will not undertake to pray for the vessel unless you will prepare the sails.”
And it was done. The missionary retired to his stateroom to pray. While engaged in prayer, there was a knock at his door.
“Who is there?”
The captain’s voice responded, “Are you still praying for wind?”
“Yes.”
“Well,” said the captain, “you’d better stop praying, for we have more wind than we can well manage.”
And, sure enough, when but a hundred yards from shore, a strong wind struck the sails of the boat, so that the inhabitants of the island were cheated out of their human prey.
An “Irrational” Plea
Like most of us who are parents, there was nothing as important to Betty and her husband as passing their faith on to their children. The task had always seemed natural and uncomplicated. Their kids accepted their faith easily because they saw it so readily in the lives of their parents.
But John was different. “John is a lot like his father,” Betty confided.”He doesn’t accept things at face value. You have to prove it to him first.” So more than the other children, John questioned his parents’ faith.
“I just don’t know if I believe that God answers our prayers,”John told his mother. “We’ve been praying for months that this guy at church would get well, and he’s only getting worse. We’re always praying for people who are sick. Sometimes they get better and sometimes they don’t. But that happens to people whether they believe in God or not. I can’t think of one time where God answered a prayer, and there was no doubt it was Him who did it. Not one time.”
That’s when Betty did something drastic. “I felt I had to prove to John that there is a God and that He does answer prayers,” she told me. Hiding her panic, she calmly sat down at the table. Placing her arm around John’s shoulder, she asked, “What would it take for you to believe that God hears and answers our prayers?”
John looked startled. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, what prayer could God answer for you before morning to prove that He does answer prayer?” She paused for a moment to let John gather his thoughts. “I happen to know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that God does answer our prayers,” she continued, “and I know that He wants you to know that, too.” Again she paused, letting her words sink in a little deeper. “In fact, I’m so sure that God can prove Himself to you that I want you to pick something He could do for you before morning is over to let you know that He is real and genuine and active in our lives. Tell me what it is, we’ll pray for it, and before morning is over, it will happen. I give you my word.”
“Even while I was talking to John, I couldn’t believe what I was saying,” Betty told me. “I sat there and promised my son that God would answer any prayer he could come up with — and who knows what he could have come up with!”
So John came up with his request. “Well, we haven’t had any rain for months,” he said, “and everywhere we go, we hear that people are praying for rain. The weatherman said there’s no chance of rain for days to come. If God would make it rain in the morning, I’d believe that it was Him who did it.”
So, together, Betty and John prayed for rain. “When we finished, I patted John on the back and with all the confidence I could muster, said ‘Well, John, looks like it’s going to rain tomorrow. Better get your umbrella out.’ Then I walked upstairs and prayed harder than I’d ever prayed in my life. I don’t know if I got more than two or three minutes of sleep that night. You know, Frank, I never dreamed I would do anything that irrational.”
The next morning, Betty and her family sat around the breakfast table, staring out at a clear blue sky. In the background they heard the morning news reporting another hot day with no rain in sight. Not a word was mentioned about the night before. The table was cleared, and the kids had gone to their rooms to get dressed for school. All the while, Betty continued to pray. Suddenly, one of Betty’s daughters called her to the dining room window. What Betty saw there took her breath away.
“John,” she called out, “Come look out the window. There’s something here for you.” John stepped out of his room. As he approached the window, a clap of thunder shook the house. Outside, large beads of rain beat furiously against the pavement. John stood motionless beside his mother. “This is a present from God to you, John,” she whispered through tears of joy. “Promise me you’ll never forget it.” With that, she gave him a loving hug, gazed another moment at the miracle outside, and walked back into the kitchen.
John remained at the window for several minutes, then returned silently to his room. There was a lot of excitement at news desks around town that day. Out of nowhere, it seems, a small, black cloud rolled into the city, planted itself over a four-block area, and for 10 solid minutes threw down a wall of thunder and rain that hadn’t been seen for quite some time. It stopped as suddenly as it started, rolled itself up, and headed north. No one could explain it.
– by Frank Martin
Marie Parrish knows what it means to be persistent in prayer.
She prayed for her husband, Bill, for more than 50 years before he committed his life to Christ after nearly dying in a fire.
Today at age 82, Bill Parrish is an active member of Inglewood Baptist Church in Nashville, Tenn. But his journey to Christ, which included brushes with death on three separate occasions, was far more roundabout than most church members.
Bill and Marie first met as high school students in Lauderdale County, Ala. They dated for several months before Bill joined the Navy and was shipped to the Pacific front of World War II.
Marie, who had accepted Christ at age 13, knew Bill was not a Christian but figured he would commit his life to Jesus shortly.
“I was naive,” she said. “I thought that when anybody got grown and could think straight, they would become a Christian. ... I figured as soon as [Bill] got out of the service and we started going to church together, that he would become a Christian. It wasn't the real world, but I had a sheltered life.”
During the Battle of Guadalcanal, Japanese forces sank Parrish's ship, the USS Atlanta. Of the 700 men aboard, Parrish was one of only 350 who survived. After the battle, Parrish returned home on leave.
“While I was home on a 30-day leave, I found the girl I had left behind and we married before I went back to sea as I had to wait for my next assignment, the USS Boston,” Bill said. “She had been praying for me while I had been away and continued to do so for 55 years after we married.”
When Parrish was discharged from the Navy in 1945, he and his wife moved to Nashville where Bill went to work for the U.S. Postal Service. Though Marie became actively involved in a local church, Bill remained uninterested in Christianity.
“I always knew there was a God and His Son Jesus Christ but I did not have a relationship with them,” Parrish said. “You might say I got interested in the things of the world and forgot about God. ... The years flew by and I did not get any closer to God, just doing what I wanted to do or felt like doing.”
Despite Bill's indifference to spiritual matters, Marie continued to pray daily for his salvation. In addition to her own prayers, she solicited the prayers of the deacons at her church and Christians all around the world whom she met on mission trips.
“I understand the deacons prayed for him every time they met,” she said. “... and every time I went on a mission trip, I asked them to pray for my husband.”
In 1953, Bill nearly lost his life for a second time when a car hit him as he delivered the mail. But even the 27 days he spent in the hospital did not encourage Bill to surrender his life to Christ.
In 1998, God finally got his attention. The Parrishes' house caught fire and both of them passed out from smoke inhalation. Had rescuers not dragged Bill and Marie from the house, they would have died.
“Four more seconds and it would have been too late, we were told by the medics,” Bill said. “I was in the hospital 74 days, and five weeks of that time I was in the burn unit at Vanderbilt Hospital. My wife and I are considered miracles by most everyone who heard the facts.”
During his recovery, the members of Inglewood Baptist cared for Parrish by meeting his physical needs and telling him how to begin a personal relationship with Jesus Christ. Through their witness, Parrish began to consider Christianity.
“When we had this last one [fire] and he came so close to death, I think that changes a lot of people,” Marie said. “And I think that through everything that happened ... so much love was poured out on us.”
On Easter Sunday 1999, Bill finally came to a point of brokenness over his spiritual condition at age 78. He decided to commit his life to Christ and made a public profession of faith at Inglewood's Easter service.
“The day he went forward, someone said there was hardly a dry eye in the church,” Marie said. “People, not only me but a lot of people, had been praying for him for many years.”
After Bill's conversion, Marie said she wanted to thank everyone who has prayed for her husband's salvation.
“I tell you how thrilled I was. I called a preacher in England because he had asked me if my husband ever became a Christian, would I let him know. And I called him that Sunday afternoon,” she said.
Since Easter 1999, Bill's life has been transformed.
“I attend church regularly and pray I am drawing closer to God at all times in many ways,” he said. “My goal is to show God I appreciate the way He watched over me during the wayward years in my life. God is so good.”
Bill's attitude toward church also has changed.
“He thinks everybody ought to go to church every Sunday, but he didn't used to think that,” Marie said. “He can't understand some of the things people who call themselves Christians do now. But before, he didn't think anything about it. He visits the hospitals. He visits the nursing homes. He goes to funerals, a lot of things that we just didn't do together before.”
Bill's salvation demonstrates God's power to transform any life.
“I just believe that anything that happens, happens in the Lord's will and in His timing,” Marie said. “It all goes back to ... when the Holy Spirit is speaking to someone and they answer.”
*
[Original illustration at this number was a duplicate of HolwickID #5636]
[According to Snopes.com, Ron Lantz, who is also the men's ministry director at the Central Church of the Nazarene in Fort Wright, Kentucky, did indeed attend a prayer meeting and helped to capture the snipers, though others were also involved:]
Always looking for inspiring stories to demonstrate the power of prayer, The Presidential Prayer Team shares this amazing story in the news today.
50 Christian truckers got together to pray to pray that somehow the sniper terrorizing the Washington, DC area would be caught. Ron Lantz would be retiring as a driver in a few days and didn't even live in the area, but he felt sure that God would answer their prayers. In fact, he told the others there that God was going to use him to catch the sniper.
A few days later he was listening to the radio as he was driving again through the region and felt compelled to pull off the highway to a rest stop. It was just a couple of miles from where the prayer meeting had taken place. As he pulled in, he was shocked to see a car similar to what was being described on the radio right there before his eyes.
Carefully trying to read the license plate, a chill went up his back as the numbers matched. He quickly called 911 and remained there for what he said were the longest 15 minutes of his life until the police arrived. He even pulled his truck across the exit, there would now be no escape for these elusive murderers. The rest is now history -- the snipers were taken into custody without incident.
Ron's testimony is being beamed around the world today. It shows the power of prayer. And in a class act, showing his true character, when asked what he would do with the award money, he said the half million dollars would simply be given to the victims' families.
The snipers killed 10 and wounded 3 around our nation's capital over the past three weeks, leaving the entire region in a state of terror. Yet out of the great darkness has also come a great beam of light as the world has heard a clear testimony of the power of prayer.
*
« Leader’s notes shown in these braces. »
A. Hebrews 2:10–18 (excerpts — NAS):
10 For it was fitting for Him, for whom are all things, and through whom are all things, in bringing many sons to glory, to perfect the author of their salvation through sufferings. 11 For both He who sanctifies and those who are sanctified are all from one Father; for which reason He is not ashamed to call them brethren, … 14 Since then the children share in flesh and blood, He Himself likewise also partook of the same, that through death He might render powerless him who had the power of death, that is, the devil; … 17 Therefore, He had to be made like His brethren in all things, that He might become a merciful and faithful high priest in things pertaining to God, to make propitiation for the sins of the people. 18 For since He Himself was tempted in that which He has suffered, He is able to come to the aid of those who are tempted.
B. Reasons the Father Hears Us
1. 10 The Father perfected the Pioneer of our salvation by suffering
a. «as Jesus, the Christ, the Son of God, He was in is in no way less than perfect»
b. «but as the Author
(A) the Way, the Pathfinder, the Pioneer of our Salvation;
(B) as Jesus, the Christ, the Son of Man
(C) as the representative of all mankind on the cross
(D) the Father perfected His work and ministry, brought it to a successful completion, so that the Son could cry out on the cross in triumph, “It is finished!” or, in other words, “The purpose has been achieved!”»
c. «What a cost to the Son! What a cost to the Father!»
d. So, the Father hears us because as Romans 8:32 says (NAS): He who did not spare His own Son, but delivered Him up for us all, how will He not also with Him freely give us all things?
2. 11 The Son’s sacrifice has sanctified us for the Father
a. Hebrews 10:10 (NAS) By this will we have been sanctified through the offering of the body of Jesus Christ once for all.
b. «we are sanctified, set apart, as the Father’s children; as the Son’s brethren, so how can He refuse us?»
c. Matthew 7:11 (NAS) If you then, being evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more shall your Father who is in heaven give what is good to those who ask Him!
3. 14 We are members of the Son’s army in the battle against Satan
a. «the Son of God became blood and flesh, sharing our nature»
b. «so that He could defeat the real enemy
c. Satan, who is the cause and power of death
d. and we can expect the Father to provision and arm us for this»
4. 17, 18 The Son has become our eternal High Priest in the Presence of the Father and we have His help in our times of testing
a. «we can count on His help because He is merciful»
b. «we can count on His help because He is faithful»
c. «we can count on His help because He faced our struggles
d. so the Father will hear us; the Son has propitiated the Father on our behalf, that is, the Son made things right between us and the Father (Romans 5:10 NAS: …while we were enemies, we were reconciled to God through the death of His Son)»
It was a cold day in midwinter. My husband had left for work, and the older children were in school, leaving me, my 6-year-old daughter, Keely, and my newborn son at home some distance from town.
Having some errands to run, I bundled up the kids, settled them into their car seats, and got behind the steering wheel. Just then I realized several things at once: I didn't have my car keys, the house was locked, and we were out in the cold.
My mind raced as I considered different options. My words betrayed the frustration I felt as I thought about the three of us struggling to stay warm in the bitter cold.
Then I heard a little voice from the back seat: “Mommy, why don't we pray about it?”
“Keely,” I said, “there's no way God can do anything.” After all, I was the one who had locked the keys in the house. I couldn't expect Him to come to our rescue when we were suffering the result of my own carelessness.
But Keely is a persistent child, and she pushed her faith on me again: “Mommy, please pray about it. Jesus can help us.”
How could I not honor that request? Keely was asking me to do something she believed in. So I prayed. I don't remember the prayer; but I fulfilled her request with a doubting heart.
“Mommy,” she said, “look in your purse where you keep your money. See if there's a key to the house.”
I explained that I didn't keep a spare key in my change purse. I had only one key, and it was on a key chain locked in the house.
“But Mommy,” the little voice persisted, “look in your purse anyway.”
To this day I don't know how a key ended up in my change purse. But that day my daughter's faith became my faith.
__________
Source: Pamela J. Byers, Arcadia, Indiana; Adventist Review, ISSN 0161-1119, (c) May 29, 2003, http://www.adventistreview.org/; submitted by Nancy Simpson
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Dr. F. B. Meyer was traveling to America on one occasion, and preached on “Answered Prayer.” An infidel approached him after luncheon and said, “Dr. Meyer, I do not believe a word you said.”
After some time spent in discussion, Dr. Meyer said, “I have to preach in the steerage now, but come with me to the service, and we shall resume our talk at the close.”
As they passed along the main deck, they saw a poor old immigrant woman, with a shawl over her head, seated on the deck fast asleep. The infidel put his hand in his pocket, and quietly dropped in the old lady's lap two oranges. As they returned, they saw the woman eating an orange.
Stopping before her, the infidel said, “Well, mother, you seem to be enjoying that orange.”
“Yes,” she replied, “isn't my Father good to me?”
“Your father,” said the surprised man, “surely your father can't be alive!”
“Oh, yes,” was the reply, “He is very much alive. I felt so sick, and I longed for an orange, so I lifted up my heart to my heavenly Father and asked Him to send me one. And He sent me two. Isn't that just like my Father?”
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Moody Bible Institute Monthly
God can cleanse us and make us whole. God can supply our needs if we but trust in him.
That’s exactly what happened for Dawn Weiss. Her life was falling apart. Dawn, a recovering alcoholic, moved to Tennessee after the California earthquake in 1994. She got a job there as a waitress and enrolled in school. But Dawn never really dealt with the stress of the earthquake, of moving, of leaving loved ones and the strain of working while going to school. One night Dawn was ready to give up. She prayed for help, but didn’t feel any better. That day at the end of her rope, Dawn decided that after work that night she was going to go out drinking.
When Dawn got to work, she noticed that every single customer in the restaurant was wearing a button that read, “I am a friend of Bill W.” Bill W. is the founder of Alcoholics Anonymous and this slogan helps AA members discreetly recognize one another. To Dawn’s surprise, there was a huge Alcoholics Anonymous convention in town that weekend. All the customers in her restaurant that night were attending it. After Dawn shared her own struggle with addiction with one of them, a group of customers offered to stay with her that night and protect her from drinking. Dawn Weiss had prayed for help and God sent her a whole convention of people who understood her problem.
Kathleen Wetzel received confirmation of the effectiveness of prayer when her son, Lieutenant Robert Wetzel, told her what happened to him in an Iraqi prison after he had been treated for his injuries.
After several days without water, he thought he was near death and prayed, “God, please give me some water.” Within minutes a guard opened his cell and gave Bob the last drops of water from his pail. Then, after getting more water, he filled Bob’s cup a second time. Some days later, as he shivered on the icy concrete floor while the nighttime desert temperature dropped to near zero, he prayed, “God, I’m so cold. I’m feeling pretty helpless. Can You give me a sign?” Minutes later the cell door opened and someone threw in a blanket. Finally, one night the prison was nearly leveled in an air raid. The terrified guards fled, leaving Bob and six other POWs locked in their cells. One more bomb would have reduced the prison to rubble. It never came and not a single POW was injured.
In comparing notes Mrs. Wetzel was able to estimate that all of these events occurred after she stopped praying for herself and directed all her prayers toward Bob.
John Achord, a veterinarian from Hermiston, Oregon, and his wife, Julie, enjoy weekend afternoon horseback rides with friends, riding along nature trails that would be difficult to access on foot.
Before each ride John prays that God will give them a safe and pleasant ride and that they will meet someone along the trail that they can help in some way. One particular day last summer was no exception.
Down the trail at a place where John's group intended to stop and rest, a distraught woman offered another prayer. Her ride had ended in an accident causing serious injury to her horse. “Dear Lord,” she pleaded, “please send a veterinarian!”
John and his group arrived just after the woman's prayer for help. A dazed woman stepped out of the shelter and asked, “Which one of you is the veterinarian?”
“I am,” said John.
John examined the horse and took proper action, saving the expense of flying an emergency veterinarian in to do the exam. Later he asked Julie, “How did she know that one of us was a veterinarian?”
“I don't know,” she puzzled.
On learning of the woman's prayer, John felt a sense of awe. God had not only answered his prayer, but had used him to answer the prayer of another.
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Karen Fisher, Hermiston, Oregon; Source: Adventist Review, (c) October 2003, http://www.adventistreview.org/; submitted by Mary Thayne
When Focus on the Family was in its early stages and our children were young, Jim often traveled. One night when he was away, I awoke with a start at 2 A.M. I was afraid and didn't know why. After a few minutes of worrying, I forced myself out of bed and sank to my knees on the floor.
“Oh, Lord,” I prayed, “I don't know why I'm so frightened. I ask You to watch over our home and protect our family. Send Your guardian angel to be with us.” I climbed back into bed and fell asleep about a half hour later.
The next morning one of our teenage neighbors ran over from across the street. “Mrs. Dobson, did you hear what happened? A burglar robbed your next door neighbor's house last night!” It was true. A thief had broken in and escaped with the family's vacation money, about $500. Then my neighbor told me that the police had determined the time of the robbery - about 2 A.M., the same time I had awakened in fear!
My mind reeled at the thought. “If a burglar wanted to break into our house,” I said, “he would probably try to get in through the bathroom window near our children's bedrooms. Lets go look.” We walked to the window and saw that the screen was bent and the window sill splintered. Someone had indeed tried to break in. What had stopped him? . . .
__________
Source: Night Light: A Devotional for Couples, By Dobson, James C.; Dobson, Shirley. Published by Multnomah Pub (September 1, 2000)
Yvonne Vladislavich and seven other persons were traveling by boat in the waters off the East African coast in September, 1972.
A storm came upon the boat and raged all day. About three-thirty the next morning three huge waves more than nine meters high came one after another. The boat, already half full of water, began to go down.
“Get out, we're sinking,” someone yelled. “The third wave sank the boat. After five hours in the water, Yvonne, a strong swimmer, decided to go for help. Claiming God's promises, she started out. Her feet, cut when the boat sank, were bleeding constantly. After about six and a half hours of swimming she noticed black shadows around her - sharks! “O God,” she prayed, “if I must die, let it be quick. Not an arm and then a leg. May they do it quickly.”
Two fins glided toward her. Thinking this was the end, Yvonne watched with amazement as a dolphin bumped the oncoming shark and drove it away. Later she fainted, but became conscious as she was lifted out of the water on the nose of a dolphin. Two dolphins guarded her for twelve and a half hours until she was picked up by a passing ship sixty-seven kilometers away from the rest of the group.
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"Stop, Look and Listen" by Eileen E. and Jay H. Lantry, Copyright(c)1976 by Review and Herald Publishing Association. Submitted by Mary Thayne
Paul Ratsara, President of the Southern Africa-Indian Ocean Division told of an exciting experiences:
In one of their countries a police officer was giving our church people a very hard time. He said they couldn’t hold meetings in that town. He said he would arrest them if they did.
Things seemed really hopeless. But the members knew that with God, all things are possible. So they began to pray. They didn’t just mention it in the church prayer time, they all prayed earnestly for two days. And then a truck pulled up to the police officer’s door early in the morning. A senior officer jumped out and delivered orders from the government that the man was to move to a new district - not tomorrow or next week - NOW!
The members and villagers watched in amazement as men carried out the police officer’s belongings. Then the officer and his family climbed up in the back with their things and the truck left the village in a cloud of dust.
Prayers of praise began to ascend to Heaven. But now a new problem presented itself - who would replace the police officer? The members turned their prayers to the One who still takes down and sets up leaders as He did in the days of Daniel.
Soon a truck pulled in with the new officer. Almost immediately the village people not belonging to our church gathered around and told him “Don’t mess with the people of that church or you will surely get moved.”
None of the villagers knew until several days later that the new police officer was also a member of our church. The meetings are now going ahead and the power of the Holy Spirit is touching many lives.
________
Homer Trecartin, MUSINGS, August 19, 2007
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[Original illustration at this number was a duplicate of HolwickID #20932]
Herman and I locked our general store and dragged ourselves home. It was 11:00 p.m., Christmas Eve of 1949. We were dog tired. We had sold almost all of our toys; and all of the layaways, except one package, had been picked up. Usually we kept the store open until everything had been claimed. We wouldn't have been happy on Christmas knowing that some child's gift was still on the layaway shelf. But the person who had put a dollar down on the package never returned.
Early Christmas morning we and our twelve year old son, Tom, opened gifts. But I'll tell you, there was something humdrum about this Christmas. Tom was growing up; I missed his childish exuberance of past years. As soon as breakfast was over Tom left to visit his friend next door. Herman mumbled, “I'm going back to sleep. There's nothing left to stay up for.” So there I was alone, feeling let down.
And then it began. A strange, persistent urge. It seemed to be telling me to go to the store. I looked at the sleet and icy sidewalk outside. That's crazy, I said to myself. I tried dismissing the urge, but it wouldn't leave me alone. In fact, it was getting stronger. Finally, I couldn't stand it any longer, and I got dressed. Outside, the wind cut right through me and the sleet stung my cheeks. I groped my way to the store, slipping and sliding.
In front stood two boys, one about nine, and the other six. What in the world? “See, I told you she would come!” the older boy said jubilantly. The younger one's face was wet with tears, but when he saw me, his sobbing stopped. “What are you two doing out here?” I scolded, hurrying them into the store. “You should be at home on a day like this!” They were poorly dressed. They had no hats or gloves, and their shoes barely held together. I rubbed their icy hands, and got them up close to the heater.
“We've been waiting for you,” replied the older boy. “My little brother Jimmy didn't get any Christmas.” He touched Jimmy's shoulder. “We want to buy some skates. That's what he wants. We have these three dollars,” he said, pulling the bills from his pocket. I looked at the money. I looked at their expectant faces. And then I looked around the store. “I'm sorry,” I said, “but we have no “ Then my eye caught sight of the lay away shelf with its lone package.
“Wait a minute,” I told the boys. I walked over, picked up the package, unwrapped it and, miracle of miracles, there was a pair of skates! Jimmy reached for them. Lord, let them be his size. And miracle added upon miracle, they were his size. The older boy presented the dollars to me. “No,” I told him, “I want you to have these skates, and I want you to use your money to get some gloves.” The boys just blinked at first. Then their eyes became like saucers, and their grins stretched wide when they understood I was giving them the skates. What I saw in Jimmy's eyes was a blessing. It was pure joy, and it was beautiful. My spirits rose.
We walked out together, and as I locked the door, I turned to the older brother and said, “How did you know I would come?” I wasn't prepared for his reply. His gaze was steady, and he answered me softly.
“I asked Jesus to send you.”
The tingles in my spine weren't from the cold. God had planned this. As we waved good bye, I turned home for a brighter Christmas.
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Elizabeth King English, “I Knew You Would Come”, Guideposts, December, 1995, pp. 33-35, http://www.guideposts.org
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June 6, 2003, was going to be a special day for my husband, Dan, and me - our forty-fifth wedding anniversary. Not only that, it was also the day our son, David, would marry his fiancée, Kris. They'd picked a gorgeous spot to say their vows - a terrace near the falls at Minnehaha Park in Minneapolis.
The whole week leading up to the wedding the sun shone brightly. But the morning of June 6 I looked out my window and saw rain coming down, hard. It'll stop soon, I thought. Just a shower. Right. At 4:00 P.M., it was still pouring. The ceremony was set for 6:00 P.M.
Dan, David, Kris and I grabbed our umbrellas, walked the park grounds and desperately scouted out a dry spot for them to exchange vows. A dreary pavilion and a tiny arbor were all we found.
“God, we sure could use a little sunshine down here,” I said. “I'm not asking for much. An hour would do, between five-thirty and six-thirty.”
David and Kris, huddled under an umbrella, laughed. “That's a pretty specific prayer,” he said.
“Those are the best kind!” I replied.
At 5:30 P.M. the sky brightened. The rain stopped. We hurried to the terrace by the falls.
David and Kris exchanged vows with the sunlit waterfall casting a beautiful glow behind them. I squeezed Dan's hand when the judge pronounced them husband and wife.
The ceremony ended and we got in the car to head to the reception. As soon as I closed the door the torrential rain started again. I looked at the dashboard clock. Six-thirty. I couldn't help laughing. “I did ask for just an hour,” I said to Dan.
For our family, June 6 turned out to be the perfect day for weddings - and wedding showers.
________
Beverly Lindsey, Waynesville, North Carolina
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FIRST-PERSON: The miracle of love & grace By David Jeremiah
EL CAJON, Calif. (BP) -- Does God still perform miracles? Ask missionary Bertha Smith. During her early days in China, she settled in the only place she could find in the village of Tsining -- an ox stall in a villager's barn.
The flies nearly drove her crazy -- house flies, horse flies, black, green ... “Lord,” she prayed, “I just can't eat with those flies all over my food. Please take them away or enable me not to mind them.” From that moment, not a fly flew into the ox stall.
But that wasn't the greatest miracle. The villagers turned from idols to God because of her ministry. “If those people were born of the Spirit,” she wrote in “Go Home and Tell,” “that was the greatest miracle.... Flies have no enmity against God; but when a human being realizes he is deserving of hell ... and willingly turns away from sin and chooses Christ..., that is a miracle!”
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"Put your trust in the light while you have it, so that you may become sons of light.” When he had finished speaking, Jesus left and hid himself from them. Even after Jesus had done all these miraculous signs in their presence, they still would not believe in him. (John 12:36-37)
It's been said that miracles are God's signature. July 1, 2003, a minister speaking at the First Baptist Church of Forest, Ohio, asked for a “sign from God.” What he got was a flashing billboard.
Rev. Don Hardwood, a visiting evangelist, was preaching about penance and in a prayer started asking for a sign. Worshipers were left stunned when a lightning bolt struck the church just moments later. According to an account in the Findlay, Ohio, Courier, the church's steeple was hit by lightning at about 7:45 p.m., setting the church on fire and blowing out the sound system.
“It was awesome, just awesome,” church member Ronnie Cheney, 40, of rural Forest, was quoted as saying. Cheney was in the church at 206 N. Martin St. when the lightning struck.
“You could hear the storm building outside. He (the evangelist) just kept asking God what else he needed to say,” Cheney said. “He was asking for a sign and he got one.”
The bolt of lightning hit the church steeple and surged through the electrical wiring. When it blew out the sound system, Cheney said the lightning traveled through the microphone and enveloped the preacher in blue flame. The evangelist was not injured.
Afterward, services resumed for about 20 minutes until members of the congregation smelled smoke and realized that the church was on fire. They wisely evacuated the building.
Why doesn't God answer our prayers that directly all the time? Why doesn't He respond so visibly every time we seek Him? Perhaps if He did things like that every day, we wouldn't have to exercise faith as much. Faith is a key part of what God asks of us, and He even gives us a measure of that.
Damage to the church was estimated at about $20,000. I expect those who were present believe it was worth every penny to have a front row seat when God chose to “give us a sign.”
When was the last time you asked for a sign?
________
Special thanks to the Findlay Ohio Courier http://www.thecourier.com/, and http://news.bbc.co.uk/go/em/fr/-/2/hi/americas/3044178.stm; secondary source: Sermon Fodder, http://www.sermonfodder.com
[Illustration #25078 probably describes the same incident]
By Brennan Bilek, age 10
One night, when my parents dropped me off at our Awana program at church, they told me they were going to visit a friend who has been diagnosed with a mental illness called schizophrenia. It was his birthday. At group prayer time, I asked my group to pray for my mom and dad and that Mike would let them tell him about Jesus. We all prayed.
Two hours later, my mom and dad picked me up. I asked how their time with their friend had been. They looked at me funny. Then they told me a long story about how they had tried to share Jesus with him many times before. He would always change the subject or start getting squirmy and leave. This time they couldn't believe what happened. They said their friend brought up God and the Bible and wouldn't stop asking questions and talking about Him. I smiled and said, “My group and I were praying for you!”
I think God is so cool to hear our prayers and send His Holy Spirit across town to this man's mind just because we asked Him to!
A few days after that, I wrote a paper for a writing contest. I called it “How to Get to Heaven.” I was very sad when my teacher told me she couldn't enter it because it was “too preachy” and wouldn't win. On the way home I told my mom that I didn't write the paper to “win.” I wrote it so the judges would learn the way to heaven and think about it. I was really bummed out that the teacher wouldn't even turn the paper in.
Later that day, before my gymnastics class, a college kid came up to me and asked if I died that day, would I know for sure that I'd go to heaven. I told him yes and all about the paper I had just written. He said he couldn't believe I was only 10! He told me I was an awesome leader for God. I can't tell you how much better that made me feel.
That night I told my mom what the college boy said. She started crying. She told me that at that exact moment she had been on the phone with her friend, and they were praying for me and my situation!
My family prayed some more that night. The next day, my teacher told me she had entered my paper in the contest! God had changed her heart.
I love how God answers my prayers and makes Himself real to me. I want all the kids in the world to know that He loves you too and will hear you when you talk to Him. Just try it!
________
Source: Pray!, July/August 2005, http://www.praymag.com
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During his lifetime, George Mueller founded several orphanages, often supporting and running as many as three at any one time. But running three orphanages isn't an easy task to accomplish when there aren't any regular funds! After serving dinner at one of his orphanages one evening, George realized that there was no food for the next day's breakfast and no money to buy any. This didn't shake him, however. When he retired for the night, he conveyed his needs to his Heavenly Father, and then he went to sleep. He knew God would provide on time. Early the next morning, a gentleman knocked on the door and offered a donation that supplied for all of their needs.
Another time when there was no breakfast for the children, George went for an early morning walk to talk it over with God. He was so caught up in discussing his needs with the One who can help that he didn't notice when he took a wrong turn. Soon he met an old acquaintance on the street. Though George never once hinted that he had financial needs, the friend offered him five pounds-enough money to provide adequate food for the orphanage for the next few days.
One day a lady offered George a small donation: 2 pennies. She was unaware that the orphanage was lacking a penny to buy bread. Later, when facing the dilemma of paying for milk, the money arrived just minutes before the milkman!
Here is George's own description of another time when there was no food for the children: “Our bread was hardly enough for the day. After dinner, when I returned thanks, I asked Him to give us our daily bread, meaning literally that He would send us bread for the evening. While I was praying there was a knock at the door of the room. After I had concluded a poor sister came in and brought us some of her dinner, and from another poor sister five shillings. In the afternoon she also brought us a large loaf. Thus the Lord not only gave us bread but also money.”
On another occasion when he was praying about not having enough money, George reported: “The instant that I got up from my knees, a brother gave me one pound which had been taken out of the chapel box.”
George Mueller noticed that as the numbers of orphans he was taking care of increased, the Lord's provisions also increased. One kept pace with the other. God always answered George's prayers with just the right amount of food or money, never too much, never too little. And, no meal fed to the orphans was ever more than 30 minutes late. In fact, during his lifetime, George received 7½ million U.S. dollars in answer to his prayers!
Do you trust in the faithfulness of God? Why not try doing so today?
________
Source: Illustrator, http://www.answers2prayer.org
I have a friend who says, “People may think that some of the things that happen to me are just coincidence. But all I know is that when I pray, I seem to have more coincidences.” This month I have a true story to tell, sent by a friend, which got me thinking about God's intervention, and how he directs our activities. Do you view the good things that happen in your life as mere coincidence? Or do you think God is at work, both in the large and the small? Read on ...
THE CLIMBER'S CONTACTS
True story: Brenda was a young woman who was invited to go rock climbing. She'd never done this before, and although she was scared to death, she went with her group to a tremendous granite cliff. In spite of her fear, she put on the gear, took hold of the rope, and started up the face of the rock. After some hard climbing work, she got to a ledge where she could take a breather. As she was hanging there, the safety rope snapped against Brenda's eye and knocked out her contact lens. This was not only painful, but dangerous. She was now on a rock ledge, with hundreds of feet below and hundreds of feet above her.
Of course, she looked and looked and looked, hoping the contact lens had landed on the ledge, but it wasn't there. Here she was, far from home, her vision now blurred and limited. Upset to the point of desperation, she prayed and slowly inched her way up the face of the cliff.
Once on top and the danger past, she began thinking of the money and time involved in replacing her lost contact lens. She looked out across range after range of mountains, thinking of that Bible verse that says, “The eyes of the Lord run to and fro throughout the whole earth.” She thought, “Lord, You can see all these mountains. You know every stone and leaf, and you know exactly where my contact lens is. Please help me.”
Finally, she and her friends walked down the trail to the bottom of the cliff. At the bottom they met a new party of climbers just starting up the face of the cliff. One of them shouted out, “Hey, you guys! Anybody lose a contact lens?”
Now that would be startling enough, but can you guess how the climber saw it? An ant was moving slowly across the face of the rock, carrying it!
Brenda's father is a cartoonist. When she told him the incredible story of the ant, the prayer, and the contact lens, it inspired an idea for a cartoon. He drew a picture of an ant lugging that contact lens with these words as a caption beneath: “Lord, I don't know why You want me to carry this thing. I can't eat it, and it's awfully heavy. But if this is what You want me to do, I'll carry it for You.”
YOUR REACTION?
The moral of the story, given in my friend's message to me is this: GOD DOESN'T CALL THE QUALIFIED, HE QUALIFIES THE CALLED. In other words, the ant accomplished a purpose, and was part of the answer to prayer.
What do you think? Is God that intricately involved in people's lives? Does he stoop down to answer prayers about life's little details? Our natural tendancy as rational, scientific Westerners is to drift into belief in a non-interventionist God. “Maybe he intervenes in cosmic affairs, maybe he intervenes to draw people to faith in Him, but not in those little details.”
But such a God is foreign to the Bible. In the Bible we see God helping people bear children, bringing rain, protecting people from harm, directing people into careers so they can accomplish his purposes in new ways, and on and on. Challenge the assumptions we bring into our prayer lives about natural laws and spiritual vs. secular distinctions. And don't be afraid to pray about contact lenses.
________
According to Snopes.com, this story originated in Elizabeth Elliot's book "Keep A Quiet Heart" (1995) and was a first-person account given to her by Brenda Foltz of Princeton, Minnesota; Brenda says this happened to her on her first rock-climbing experience.
In their book DANGEROUS INTERSECTIONS, Jay Dennis and Jim Henry tell this story as evidence that prayer changes things. A church in Phoenix had a pastor who asked its members to randomly choose 80 people from the local telephone book. He asked that daily prayer be offered for each person on that list for the next 90 days. At the same time, he asked members to choose another 80 names from the same directory, different names, but the 2nd list was simply laid aside and nobody was to pray for those people. After the 90 days was up, members called all the people on both lists, asking them whether they would allow Christians to visit them to pray for them. That’s 160 in all.
According to Alvin VanderGriend of the American Lighthouse movement, only one person on the list that wasn’t prayed for was prepared to let Christians to come and visit him, whereas 69 of the 80 people for whom the church members prayed were prepared to allow Christians to visit; 45 of which invited them into their homes, offered coffee, and named special prayer requests!”
The difference between the responses of those who were prayed for by name and those who were not, was stark - like night and day.
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