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beensetfree

Alfrescian (InfP)
Generous Asset
Better Than All You Desire

Everyday, thousands of people hurried through the intersection. Some rushed to their next appointment; others were bent on some act of charity. Some longed to gain wealth; others sought achievement. Still others just longed to be loved.

Very few noticed the woman who faithfully stood at the corner of the intersection, calling out to all who passed by. Fewer still actually heard her words--most tuned her out, intent upon their own agendas or preoccupied with their own problems.

Despite the disinterest and apathy of most, Wisdom still faithfully kept her post, calling out to everyone. She had a tremendous treasure to give to anyone who would take it--a treasure that, unlike everything else, truly satisfied.

Would the people ever listen? Would they never realize that wisdom was better than rubies--that nothing else they desired even compared with it?

"Doth not wisdom cry? and understanding put forth her voice? She standeth in the top of high places, by the way in the places of the paths...For wisdom is better than rubies; and all the things that may be desired are not to be compared to it." Proverbs 8:1-2, 11
 

beensetfree

Alfrescian (InfP)
Generous Asset
Are You Listening?


"Wherefore, my beloved brethren, let every man be swift to hear, slow to speak, slow to wrath." James 1:19

"Are you listening?" This was a question that has been brought to my attention a number of times over the last couple of months. It got me to thinking how do we really hear God's voice? Am I really listening to God? And if so, am I acting on what I hear?

I found I was not listening as carefully as I would like to--and I am definitely too quick to respond. Thinking back to how my deaf ears and quick tongue affected my homeschooling made me sad. There is so much wisdom in listening, waiting to speak, and letting God take care of the situation.

My tip for you this month is to embrace this wisdom. Really listen! Show your children how to really listen to what is being said. Before speaking, take a minute to be sure you are speaking according to God's Word. And instead of taking any circumstance personally, be slow to allow wrath a foot in the door. You'll be glad you did.
 

beensetfree

Alfrescian (InfP)
Generous Asset
Wash the dishes, take out the trash, finish an email—Amanda had more to do in life than there were hours left to do them. She tried to fall asleep, but sleep just wouldn’t come.

Her financial situation also weighed heavily on her mind. She had lost her job, and money was tight. The load of it all threatened to crush her.

Amanda got up and tiptoed to the edge of the nursery where her baby brother slept sweetly. Baby Jeremy didn’t feel any of the pressure she did. He didn’t know what tomorrow held—he just knew his parents would take care of him.

Amanda laughed as she tried to picture how worried Baby Jeremy would be if he knew all that he needed tomorrow. He needed so many things he couldn’t possibly get for himself—after all, he was just a baby, and babies can’t dress themselves or fix their own breakfast. But if he knew all he needed the next day and felt the impossibility of getting it, would he say what she’d been saying—that there was no way? Would he stay up late fretting too?

How silly that would be! Baby Jeremy had parents who loving took care of all his needs. He didn’t need to understand how his needs would all be met—it was enough to know his parents would take care of him.

Amanda stopped short in her train of thought. Didn’t she have a Heavenly Father caring for her too? A smile suddenly illuminated her face, and a weight fell from her shoulders. She could curl up and rest, even without answers, just like Baby Jeremy, confident that her Heavenly Father had it all under control.

“Wherefore, if God so clothe the grass of the field, which to day is, and to morrow is cast into the oven, shall he not much more clothe you, O ye of little faith? Therefore take no thought, saying, What shall we eat? or, What shall we drink? or, Wherewithal shall we be clothed? (For after all these things do the Gentiles seek:smile: for your heavenly Father knoweth that ye have need of all these things. But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you. Take therefore no thought for the morrow: for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.” Matthew 6:30-34
 

beensetfree

Alfrescian (InfP)
Generous Asset
Click - Click - Click

We had finished eating at an oriental restaurant in Barcelona.

I learned in Spain, at least in Barcelona, they don't hurry with
your check after your meal. Actually, they don't bring it at
all until you ask for it. Quite different from America where
your dishes are often removed while you are still chewing and
your check is plopped down before you've swallowed.

So we sat talking, no check in sight.

Click - Click - Click

What was that sound?

I looked around. It was emanating from the cash register.
There was an elderly Chinese woman standing there. She was
adding up the day's receipts as she passed receipts from one
pile to another like playing cards.

The Click - Click - Click was the sound of the beads hitting
each other on an abacus. The receipts moved by with amazing
speed as her hands swiftly and expertly manipulated the ancient
adding machine.

I watched - she added.

In case you don't know, an abacus is an ancient mathematical
machine. It looks like a picture frame with wire rods running
through it with beads the size of marbles on it.
It looks like a child's toy.

Click - Click - Click

No power cord. No batteries. No plastic.
No LCD's, LED's, FET's, LSI's, or CRT's.
No DOS, Linux, Palm OS, Android, iOS, Windows 98, 2000, ME, CE,
NT, XP, 7 or 8.

Just wood, wire, beads, fingers,
and an old lady with focus and skill.

Click - Click - Click

The receipts flew by. I watched.

I wondered, "could I add faster with a modern calculator?"

I watched one pile of receipts shrink as the other grew.

I type fairly fast. I can add on an adding machine fairly fast.
I've run a cash register and worked in an accounting office.

I estimated my speed with the benefits of the latest silicon
technology against the old lady with wood, wire, and beads.

As I watched the receipts fly, I knew I couldn't keep up.

Years ago, the army tested the electric calculator and it's best
operator against a trained abacus user. Guess who won?

The abacus was not only faster, but produced less mistakes.

So what's the point of Click - Click - Click?

I have the latest gadgets, the most up to date electronics.
The phone on my belt has a calculator that would perform all
types of calculations with lightening speed. There was no way
the abacus could compare with the speed of my high-powered
megahertz processor.

Then why did I feel I would lose in a contest with the abacus?

Because the limiting factor was not the machine, it was me.

We are conditioned to think in terms of the limiting factors in
life as the things around us. We want faster computers, faster
cars, faster internet connections, faster flows of information,
better stuff, better this and better that.

We think, "If I can just get better stuff around me, stuff will
be better in me."

The limitations in life are not external, they are internal.

The old lady took a simple device but used it with skill and
focus. You will be amazed at what you can do with the simple
things of life with skill and focus. You will be amazed that
often you can accomplish much more than people with much more.

It's not what you have, it's how you use what you have.

The abacus is a calculating device.
As you grow in spirit, you calculate things differently.

With wood, wire, beads, fingers, focus and skill, she added
faster than most with the most expensive of modern machines.

She illustrated a principle of life.
 

beensetfree

Alfrescian (InfP)
Generous Asset
Tthe geese and the snowstorm

A Story of Salvation


There was once a man who did not believe in either the virgin birth of Christ nor the spiritual meaning behind it, and was skeptical even about God. He and his family lived in a farm community. His wife was a devout believer and diligently raised her children in the faith. He sometimes gave her a hard time about her belief and mocked her religious observances.

"It's all nonsense -- why would God lower himself and become a human like us? It's such a ridiculous story," he said.

One snowy day, she and the children left for church while he stayed home. After they had departed, the winds grew stronger and the snow turned into a blinding snowstorm. He sat down to relax before the fire for the evening.

Then he heard a loud thump, something hitting against the window... And, still another thump. He looked outside but could not see anything. So he ventured outside for a better view. In the field near his house he saw, of all the strangest things, a flock of geese. They were apparently flying to look for a warmer area down south, but they had been caught in the snowstorm. The storm had become too blinding and violent for the geese to fly or see their way. They were stranded on his farm, with no food or shelter, unable to do more than flutter their wings and fly in aimless circles. He had compassion for them and wanted to help them. He thought to himself, the barn would be a great place for them to stay. It is warm and safe; surely they could spend the night and wait out the storm. So he opened the barn doors for them.

He waited, watching them, hoping they would notice the open barn and go inside. Nevertheless, they did not notice the barn or realize what it could mean for them. He moved closer toward them to get their attention, but they just moved away from him out of fear.

He went into the house and came back with some bread, broke it up, and made a bread trail to the barn. They still did not catch on.

Starting to get frustrated, he went over and tried to shoo them toward the barn. They panicked and scattered into every direction except toward the barn. Nothing he did could get them to go into the barn where there was warmth, safety, and shelter. Feeling totally frustrated, he exclaimed, "Why don't they follow me? Can't they see this is the only place where they can survive the storm? How can I possibly get them into the one place to save them?"

He thought for a moment and realized that they just would not follow a human. He said to himself, "How can I possibly save them? The only way would be for me to become like those geese. If only I could become like one of them. Then I could save them. They would follow me and I would lead them to safety."

At that moment, he stopped and considered what he had said. The words reverberated in his mind: If only I could become like one of them, then I could save them. Then, at last, he understood God's heart towards mankind... and he fell on his knees in the snow.



For God so loved the world, that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. For God sent not his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him.
John 3:16-17
 

beensetfree

Alfrescian (InfP)
Generous Asset
The hot water bottle


A TRUE STORY By Helen Roseveare, Missionary to Africa

One night, in Central Africa, I had worked hard to help a mother in the labor ward; but in spite of all that 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. We had no incubator. We had no electricity to run an incubator, and no special feeding facilities. Although we lived on the equator, nights were often chilly with treacherous drafts.

A student-midwife went for the box we had for such babies and for the cotton wool that 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 a burst water bottle. 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; 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 many 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 chilled. I also told them about 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 consciousness of our African children. "Please, God," she prayed, "send us a water bottle. It'll be no good tomorrow, God, the baby'll be dead; so, please send it this afternoon."

While I gasped inwardly at the audacity of the prayer, she added by way of 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 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 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 that I reached home, the car had gone, but there, on the veranda, 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 began to look a little bored.

Next, came a box of mixed raisins and sultanas - - that would make a nice batch of buns for the weekend. 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. One of the girls had put in a dolly for an African child -- five months earlier in answer to the believing prayer of a ten-year-old to bring it "That afternoon!" "And it shall come to pass, that before they call, I will answer; and while they are yet speaking, I will hear." Isaiah 65:24



Helen Roseveare, a missionary from Northern Ireland, included this true story in her book "Living Faith." She has written about the revival that took place in the 1950's in what was then the Belgian Congo. She has been associated with WEC (World Evangelization for Christ) at www.wec-int.org/
 

beensetfree

Alfrescian (InfP)
Generous Asset
The invisible letter


Sally jumped up as soon as she saw the surgeon come out of the operating
room. She said: "How is my little boy? Is he going to be all right?
When can I see him?" The surgeon said, "I'm sorry. We did all we
could, but your boy didn't make it." Sally said, "Why do little
children get cancer? Doesn't God care anymore? Where were you, God,
when my son needed you?" The surgeon asked, "Would you like some time
alone with your son? One of the nurses will be out in a few minutes,
before he's transported to the university." Sally asked the nurse to
stay with her while she said goodbye to her son.

She ran her fingers lovingly through his thick red curly hair. "Would
you like a lock of his hair?" the nurse asked. Sally nodded yes. The
nurse cut a lock of the boy's hair, put it in a plastic bag and handed
it to Sally. The mother said, "It was Jimmy's idea to donate his body
to the University for Study. He said it might help somebody else. "I
said no at first, but Jimmy said, "Mom, I won't be using it after I die.
Maybe it will help some other little boy spend one more day with his
Mom." She went on, "My Jimmy had a heart of gold. Always thinking of
someone else. Always wanting to help others if he could."

Sally walked out of Children's mercy Hospital for the last time, after
spending most of the last six months there. She put the bag with
Jimmy's belongings on the seat beside her in the car. The drive home
was difficult. It was even harder to enter the empty house. She
carried Jimmy's belongings, and the plastic bag with the lock of his
hair to her son's room. She started placing the model cars and other
personal things, back in his room exactly where he had always kept them.
She laid down across his bed and, hugging his pillow, cried herself to
sleep.

It was around midnight when Sally awoke. Lying beside her on the bed
was a folded letter. The letter said:
Dear Mom, I know you're going to miss me; but don't think that I will
ever forget you, or stop loving you, just 'cause I'm
not around to say I LOVE YOU. I will always love you, Mom, even more
with each day. Someday we will see each other again. Until then, if
you want to adopt a little boy so you won't be so lonely, that's okay
with me. He can have my room, and old stuff to play with. But, if you
decide to get a girl instead, she probably wouldn't like the same things
us boys do. You'll have to buy her dolls and stuff girls like, y'know.

"Don't be sad thinking about me. This really is a neat place. Grandma
and Grandpa met me as soon as I got here and showed me around some, but
it will take a long time to see everything. The angels are so cool. I
love to watch them fly. And, you know what? Jesus doesn't look like
any of his pictures. Yet, when I saw Him, I knew it was Him. Jesus
himself took me to see GOD! And guess what, Mom? I got to sit on God's
knee and talk to Him, like I was somebody important. That's when I told
Him that I wanted to write you a letter, to tell you goodbye and
everything. But I already knew that wasn't allowed.

"Well, y'know what Mom? God handed me some paper and His own personal
pen to write you this letter. I think Gabriel is the name of the angel
who is going to drop this letter off to you. God said for me to give
you the answer to one of the questions you asked Him - 'Where was He
when I needed him?' God said He was in the same place with me, as when
His son Jesus was on the cross. He was right there, as He always is
with all His children.

"Oh, by the way, Mom, no one else can see what I've written except you.
To everyone else this is just a blank piece of paper. Isn't that cool?
I have to give God His pen back now. He needs it to write some more
names in the Book of Life. Tonight I get to sit at the table with Jesus
for supper. I'm sure the food will be great. Oh, I almost forgot to
tell you. I don't hurt anymore. The cancer is all gone. I'm glad
because I couldn't stand that pain anymore ... and God couldn't stand to
see me hurt so much, either. That's when He sent The Angel of Mercy to
come get me. The Angel said I was Special Delivery! How about that?

Signed with Love,

God, Jesus & Me
 

beensetfree

Alfrescian (InfP)
Generous Asset
The matchless pearl


David Morse - American missionary to India - became great friends there with the pearl-diver, Rambhau. Many an evening he spent in Rambhau's cabin reading to him from the Bible, and explaining to him God's way of salvation.

Rambhau enjoyed listening to the Word of God, but whenever the missionary tried to get Rambhau to accept Christ as his Savior - he would shake his head and reply, "Your Christian way to heaven is too easy for me! I cannot accept it. If ever I should find admittance to heaven in that manner - I would feel like a pauper there...like a beggar who has been let in out of pity. I may be proud - but I want to deserve, I want to earn my place in heaven -- and so I am going to work for it."

Nothing the missionary could say seemed to have any effect on Rambhau's decision, and so quite a few years slipped by. One evening, however, the missionary heard a knock on his door, and on going to open it he found Rambhau there.

"Come in, dear friend," said Morse.

"No," said the pearl-diver. "I want you to come with me to my house, Sahib, for a short time -- I have something to show you. Please do not say 'No'."

"Of course I'll come," replied the missionary. As they neared his house, Rambhau said: "In a week's time I start working for my place in heaven; I am leaving for Delhi -- and I am going there on my knees."

"Man, you are crazy! It's nine hundred miles to Delhi, and the skin will break on your knees, and you will have blood-poisoning or leprosy before you get to Bombay."

"No, I must get to Delhi," affirmed Rambhau, "and the immortals will reward me for it! The suffering will be sweet - for it will purchase heaven for me!"

"Rambhau, my friend - you can't. How can I bear you to do it - when Jesus Christ has suffered and died to purchase heaven for you!"

But the old man could not be moved. "You are my dearest friend on earth, Sahib Morse. Through all these years you have stood by me in sickness, in want - you have been sometimes my only friend. But even you cannot turn me from my desire to purchase eternal bliss...I must go to Delhi!"

Inside the hut Morse was seated in the very chair Rambhau had specially built for him - where on so many occasions he had read to him the Bible.

Rambhau left the room to return soon with a small but heavy English strongbox. "I have had this box for years," said he, "and I keep only one thing in it. Now I will tell you about it, Sahib Morse. I once had a son..."

"A son! Why, Rambhau, you have never before said a word about him!"

"No, Sahib, I couldn't." Even as he spoke the diver's eyes were moistened.

"Now I must tell you, for soon I will leave, and who knows whether I shall ever return? My son was a diver too. He was the best pearl diver on the coasts of India. He had the swiftest dive, the keenest eye, the strongest arm, the longest breath of any man who ever sought for pearls.

What joy he brought to me! Most pearls, as you know, have some defect or blemish only the expert can discern, but my boy always dreamed of finding the 'perfect' pearl - one beyond all that was ever found. One day he found it! But even when he saw it - he had been under water too long... That pearl cost him his life, for he died soon after."

The old pearl diver bowed his head. For a moment his whole body shook, but there was no sound. "All these years," he continued, "I have kept this pearl - but now I am going, not to return, and to you, my best friend - I am giving my pearl."

The old man worked the combination on the strongbox and drew from it a carefully wrapped package. Gently opening the cotton, he picked up a mammoth pearl and placed it in the hand of the missionary.

It was one of the largest pearls ever found off the coast of India, and glowed with a luster and brilliance never seen in cultured pearls. It would have brought a fabulous sum in any market.

For a moment the missionary was speechless and gazed with awe. "Rambhau! What a pearl!"

Matchless pearl"That pearl, Sahib, is perfect," replied the Indian quietly. The missionary looked up quickly with a new thought: Was not this the very opportunity and occasion he had prayed for - to make Rambhau understand the value of Christ's sacrifice? So he said, designedly, "Rambhau, this is a wonderful pearl, an amazing pearl. Let me buy it. I would give you ten thousand dollars for it."

"Sahib! What do you mean?"

"Well, I will give you fifteen thousand dollars for it, or if it takes more - I will work for it."

"Sahib," said Rambhau, stiffening his whole body, "this pearl is beyond price. No man in all the world has money enough to pay what this pearl is worth to me. On the market a million dollars could not buy it. I will not sell it to you. You may only have it as a gift."

"No, Rambhau, I cannot accept that. As much as I want the pearl, I cannot accept it that way. Perhaps I am proud, but that is too easy. I must pay for it, or work for it..."

The old pearl-diver was stunned. "You don't understand at all, Sahib. Don't you see. My only son gave his life to get this pearl, and I wouldn't sell it for any money. Its worth is in the life-blood of my son. I cannot sell this - but I can give it to you. Just accept it in token of the love I bear you."

The missionary was choked, and for a moment could not speak. Then he gripped the hand of the old man. "Rambhau," he said in a low voice, "don't you see? My words are just what you have been saying to God all the time."

The diver looked long and searchingly at the missionary, and slowly, slowly he began to understand. "God is offering you salvation as a free gift," said the missionary. "It is so great and priceless that no man on earth can buy it. Millions of dollars are too little. No man on earth could earn it. His life would be millions of years too short. No man is good enough to deserve it. It cost God the life-blood of His only Son to make the entrance for you into heaven. In a million years, in a hundred pilgrimages, you could not earn that entrance. All you can do is to accept it as a token of God's love for you - a sinner.

"Rambhau, of course I will accept the pearl in deep humility, praying God that I may be worthy of your love. Rambhau, won't you accept God's great gift of heaven, too, in deep humility, knowing it cost Him the death of His Son to offer it to you?"

Great tears were now rolling down the cheeks of the old man. The veil was beginning to lift. "Sahib, I see it now. I have believed in the doctrine of Jesus for the last two years, but I could not believe that His salvation was free. Now I understand. Some things are too priceless to be bought or earned. Sahib, I will accept His salvation!"

"For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son,
that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life."
John 3:16
 

beensetfree

Alfrescian (InfP)
Generous Asset
The pain of forgiveness

By Rachel Tulloch

Wendell Berry tells the story of two friends who lived in a small community in Kentucky in the year 1912. Ben Feltner and Thad Coulter were part of a close-knit agrarian community with strong ties to each other, to the land, and to hard work. Yet tragedy ensued when Thad invested in a risky business deal with his son and lost out. Humiliated and falling into despair, Thad drank himself into a stupor and then headed over to ask his friend Ben for help. Ben did not want to discuss options with Thad in his condition, and so refused to talk with him until the next day when he was sober. However, Thad succumbed to the darkness creeping over him and returned home to get his gun, which he then used to shoot Ben Feltner in a drunken rage. The rest of the story was a beautiful tale of forgiveness and mercy offered by Ben’s family and the community. Yet sadly, Thad himself was unable to experience that forgiveness because he could not bear to live knowing he had killed his best friend, and so ended his own life.

The narrator then makes this profound comment: “People sometimes talk of God’s love as if it’s a pleasant thing. But it is terrible, in a way. Think of all it includes. It included Thad Coulter, drunk and mean and foolish, before he killed Mr. Feltner, and it included him afterwards.”(1)

“God’s love is terrible, in a way. Think of all it includes.” I have often been asked, “Could God not have forgiven people without going through the pain and the violence of the Cross?” As nice as that sounds, reality forces me to ask: When is forgiveness not painful? True forgiveness cannot occur unless the hurt is acknowledged and called for what it is. When you look a wrong full in the face but choose to accept the hurt instead of returning it on the one who did it, that is always painful.

Jesus illustrates forgiveness by telling the story of a servant who owes his master more money than he could possibly repay (See Matthew 18:21-35). The master originally threatens to sell the servant’s family and possessions to get some return for the debt, but when the servant begs for mercy, the master is gracious and forgives the debt. Yet the same servant not only refuses to forgive the debt of his fellow servant, but also has him thrown in prison as punishment.

Sometimes we treat forgiveness and justice as though they are mutually exclusive. If we choose the way of justice, we think the options are reparations or retribution—either the guilty person makes up for a wrong or is punished for it. These are the only options the servant offered his debtor. Since the second servant could not repay, he was then punished. However, the master chose the way of mercy when he forgave the debt, neither requiring reparation nor inflicting retribution. If God has really forgiven us like the master forgave the servant, we ask, then why all the pain and death of the Cross? Does the Cross undermine God’s mercy? Is it merely an underhanded way for God to force repayment from humanity or exact punishment on us?

In asking these questions, we betray a misunderstanding of both justice and forgiveness. Justice can never be achieved by reparation or retribution alone because like the servants’ debts, true wrongs can never be repaid. The hurt and pain caused are not reversible. Punishing the guilty person does not undo the hurt either, even if it brings brief satisfaction to the victim, just as the first servant did not get his money back simply because the other man was in jail. Justice must be about much more than balancing out the wrongs of the world. It must be about making things right, about the kind of restoration that does not reverse the pain, but moves beyond it toward something new.

And just as wrongs cannot be erased by punishment or repayment, they cannot really be erased by simple forgiveness either. When the master forgives the servant’s debt, the debt does not simply disappear. The master takes the loss! He accepts the full brunt of the debt himself. Similarly, when a person forgives, he or she accepts the full brunt of the hurt or injustice rather than returning it on the one who caused it. Although it is painful, this is the way that healing and restoration begin. This is why there is no way to avoid the bloody Cross. And this is why God’s love is terrible. Think of what it includes: us, with our best and our worst, with our failed attempts and outright cruelty, with our wrong motives for right actions and our right motives for wrong actions... us, with the mess we have made of the world, with our brokenness and despair, with our rebellions and inadequacies. We are the ones included in and redeemed by the deep and wide love of God. Paul is astonished by this reality when he emphasizes that Christ died for us while we were still sinners (Romans 5:8)!

Instead of demanding that we pay what we cannot, instead of punishing us for not paying what we cannot, the God we see in Jesus Christ accepts the loss himself and opens his arms even to those who would murder him. The Cross does not represent God’s mercy being tamed by his anger; rather, it demonstrates that God’s mercy is much bigger than we think. The Cross is a graphic picture of God’s terrible love. Think of all it includes.
 

beensetfree

Alfrescian (InfP)
Generous Asset
Blind Leading...

If a blind man leads a blind man,
they will both fall into a pit.

~Jesus of Nazareth~

Be careful who you follow.
 

beensetfree

Alfrescian (InfP)
Generous Asset
Someone Was Watching

We live in a small town in Northumberland, near the sea and
right next to the woodland.

Sounds great eh?

It was until our recent addition.

Our baby is now one year old. Around a month ago, someone
knocked on my door holding my baby boy and telling me that he
was standing in the road, waving at the cars.

I was devastated; the thoughts of what could have been tortured
my imagination.

We built a fence.

Two weeks ago, I was in the hallway talking on the phone when
someone knocked at my door. They were holding my son, who,
we now discovered had learned how to open the front door.

We put an extra latch lock onto the door.

Tonight, we went shopping; we came home and were unloading the
car. My husband brought the baby in. As usual, everyone
thought someone else was watching him, someone was.

A man knocked at our still open door and handed to us our baby
boy, gurgling and laughing at us, saying "CAR." I can not tell
you how small I felt, devastated yet again.

We are now selling our house and hoping to move to a house where
there is no busy road outside. We have all learned a lesson, we
need to be more vigilant; three times lucky, our luck is running
out!

What about next time?

Even if we were stupid, a family of five and our precious baby
escaping!

Someone was watching, and I think you know who kept him safe.
 

beensetfree

Alfrescian (InfP)
Generous Asset
The pastor's son


One night in a church service a young woman felt the tug of God at her heart. She responded to God's call and accepted Jesus as her Lord and Savior.

The young woman had a very rough past, involving alcohol, drugs, and prostitution. But, the change in her was evident. As time went on she became a faithful member of the church.

She eventually became involved in the ministry, teaching young children.

It was not very long until this faithful young woman had caught the eye and heart of the pastor's son. The relationship grew and they began to make wedding plans.

This is when the problem began. You see, about one half of the church did not think that a woman with a past such as hers was suitable for a pastor's son.

The church began to argue and fight about the matter. So they decided to have a meeting.

As the people made their arguments and tensions increased, the meeting was getting completely out of hand.

The young woman became very upset about all the things being brought up about her past.

As she began to cry the pastor's son stood to speak. He could not bear the pain it was causing his wife to be. He began to speak and his statement was this:
"My fiancee's past is not what is on trial here. What you are questioning is the ability of the blood of Jesus to wash away sin. Today you have put the blood of Jesus on trial. So, does it wash away sin or not?"

The whole church began to weep as they realized that they had been slandering the blood of the Lord Jesus Christ .

Too often, even as Christians, we bring up the past and use it as a weapon against our brothers and sisters.

Forgiveness is a very foundational part of the Gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ.

If the blood of Jesus does not cleanse the other person completely, then it cannot cleanse us completely.

If that is the case, then we are all in a lot of trouble.

What can wash away my sins? Nothing but the blood of Jesus.

Cast thy burden upon the Lord, and he shall sustain thee; he shall never suffer the righteous to be moved. -- Psalm 55:23

Christ on cross
 

beensetfree

Alfrescian (InfP)
Generous Asset
The power of prayer

Have you ever felt the urge to pray for someone and then just put it on a list and said, "I'll pray for them later"? Or has anyone ever called you and said, "I need you to pray for me, I have this need"? Read the following story -- it may change the way you think about prayer, the way you pray and when you pray. You will be blessed by this.

-----

Author Unknown

A missionary on furlough told this true story while visiting his home church in Michigan...

"While serving at a small field hospital in Africa, every two weeks I traveled by bicycle through the jungle to a nearby city for supplies.

This was a journey of two days and required camping overnight at the halfway point. On one of these journeys, I arrived in the city where I planned to collect money from a bank, purchase medicine and supplies, and then begin my two-day journey back to the field hospital.

Upon arrival in the city, I observed two men fighting, one of whom had been seriously injured. I treated him for his injuries and at the same time talked to him about the Lord. I then traveled two days, camping overnight, and arrived home without incident.

Two weeks later I repeated my journey. Upon arriving in the city, I was approached by the young man I had treated. He told me that he had known I carried money and medicines. He said, 'Some friends and I followed you into the jungle, knowing you would camp overnight.

We planned to kill you and take your money and drugs. But just as we were about to move into your camp, we saw that you were surrounded by 26 armed guards. At this, I laughed and said that I was certainly all alone in that jungle campsite. The young man pressed the point, however, and said, 'No sir, I was not the only person to see the guards. My five friends also saw them, and we all counted them. It was because of those guards that we were afraid and left you alone.
 

beensetfree

Alfrescian (InfP)
Generous Asset
The room


17-year-old Brian Moore had only a short time to write something for a class. The subject was what Heaven was like. "I wowed 'em," he later told his father, Bruce. "It's a killer. It's the bomb. It's the best thing I ever wrote." It also was the last.

Brian's parents had forgotten about the essay when a cousin found it while cleaning out the teenager's locker at Teary Valley High School. Brian had been dead only hours, but his parents desperately wanted every piece of his life near them-notes from classmates and teachers, his homework.

Only two months before, he had handwritten the essay about encountering Jesus in a file room full of cards detailing every moment of the teen's life. But it was only after Brian's death that Beth and Bruce Moore realized that their son had described his view of heaven. "It makes such an impact that people want to share it. You feel like you are there." Mr. Moore said.

Brian Moore died May 27, 1997, the day after Memorial Day. He was driving home from a friend's house when his car went off Bulen-Pierce Road in Pickaway County and struck a utility pole. He emerged from the wreck unharmed but stepped on a downed power line and was electrocuted.

The Moores framed a copy of Brian's essay and hung it among the family portraits in the living room. "I think God used him to make a point. I think we were meant to find it and make something out of it," Mrs. Moore said of the essay. She and her husband want to share their son's vision of life after death. "I'm happy for Brian. I know he's in heaven. I know I'll see him."

Brian's Essay: The Room

In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in the room.

There were no distinguishing features except for the one wall covered with small index card files. They were like the ones in libraries that list titles by author or subject in alphabetical order. But these files, which stretched from floor to ceiling and seemingly endless in either direction, had very different headings.

As I drew near the wall of files, the first to catch my attention was one that read "Girls I have liked." I opened it and began flipping through the cards. I quickly shut it, shocked to realize that I recognized the names written on each one. And then without being told, I knew exactly where I was.

This lifeless room with its small files was a crude catalog system for my life. Here were written the actions of my every moment, big and small, in a detail my memory couldn't match. A sense of wonder and curiosity, coupled with horror, stirred within me as I began randomly opening files and exploring their content. Some brought joy and sweet memories; others a sense of shame and regret so intense that I would look over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching.

A file named "Friends" was next to one marked "Friends I have betrayed." The titles ranged from the mundane to the outright weird "Books I Have Read," "Lies I Have Told," "Comfort I have Given," "Jokes I Have Laughed at." Some were almost hilarious in their exactness: "Things I've yelled at my brothers." Others I couldn't laugh at: "Things I Have Done in My Anger", "Things I Have Muttered Under My Breath at My Parents." I never ceased to be surprised by the contents.

Often there were many more cards than I expected. Sometimes fewer than I hoped. I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life I had lived. Could it be possible that I had the time in my years to fill each of these thousands or even millions of cards? But each card confirmed this truth. Each was written in my own handwriting. Each signed with my signature.

When I pulled out the file marked "TV Shows I have watched", I realized the files grew to contain their contents. The cards were packed tightly and yet after two or three yards, I hadn't found the end of the file. I shut it, shamed, not so much by the quality of shows but more by the vast time I knew that file represented.

When I came to a file marked "Lustful Thoughts," I felt a chill run through my body. I pulled the file out only an inch, not willing to test its size and drew out a card. I shuddered at its detailed content.

I felt sick to think that such a moment had been recorded. An almost animal rage broke on me. One thought dominated my mind: No one must ever see these cards! No one must ever see this room! I have to destroy them!"

In insane frenzy I yanked the file out. Its size didn't matter now. I had to empty it and burn the cards. But as I took it at one end and began pounding it on the floor, I could not dislodge a single card. I became desperate and pulled out a card, only to find it as strong as steel when I tried to tear it.

Defeated and utterly helpless, I returned the file to its slot. Leaning my forehead against the wall, I let out a long, self-pitying sigh.

And then I saw it. The title bore "People I Have Shared the Gospel With." The handle was brighter than those around it, newer, almost unused. I pulled on its handle and a small box not more than three inches long fell into my hands. I could count the cards it contained on one hand.

And then the tears came. I began to weep. Sobs so deep that they hurt. They started in my stomach and shook through me. I fell on my knees and cried. I cried out of shame, from the overwhelming shame of it all. The rows of file shelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes. No one must ever, ever know of this room. I must lock it up and hide the key. But then as I pushed away the tears, I saw Him.

No, please not Him. Not here. Oh, anyone but Jesus. I watched helplessly as He began to open the files and read the cards. I couldn't bear to watch His response. And in the moments I could bring myself to look at His face, I saw a sorrow deeper than my own.

He seemed to intuitively go to the worst boxes. Why did He have to read every one? Finally He turned and looked at me from across the room. He looked at me with pity in His eyes. But this was a pity that didn't anger me. I dropped my head, covered my face with my hands and began to cry again. He walked over and put His arm around me. He could have said so many things. But He didn't say a word. He just cried with me.

Then He got up and walked back to the wall of files. Starting at one end of the room, He took out a file and, one by one, began to sign His name over mine on each card.

"No!" I shouted rushing to Him. All I could find to say was "No, no," as I pulled the card from Him. His name shouldn't be on these cards. But there it was, written in red so rich, so dark, so alive.

The name of Jesus covered mine. It was written with His blood. He gently took the card back. He smiled a sad smile and began to sign the cards. I don't think I'll ever understand how He did it so quickly, but the next instant it seemed I heard Him close the last file and walk back to my side.

He placed His hand on my shoulder and said, "It is finished." I stood up, and He led me out of the room. There was no lock on its door. There were still cards to be written.

----
 

beensetfree

Alfrescian (InfP)
Generous Asset
Bloom Where You're Planted!


In an effort to be cordial, I asked a certain young man how he
was doing one day. Instead of hearing the common curt response
of "Fine," he said, "I feel like I have dug myself in a hole."

My response to him was, "The only place you start out on top is
when you are digging a hole!" Immediately he retorted,
"I didn't think I was digging a hole; I thought I was laying a
foundation!"

Well, the truth of the matter is that everything is a matter of
perception. Your outlook determines your outcome!

It's better to be in a hole than in a rut.

A rut is simply a grave with both ends kicked out! The hole
that this young man dug for himself was his foundation.

This is a process of life.

You lose before you gain.

You give before you get.

You follow before you lead.

You establish a solid foundation before you build.

Before a farmer sows his fields, he first digs holes.

Every beautiful flower starts out as a seed in a hole.

Every fruit-bearing tree gets its start in a hole.

Most of us are in a hole of debt before we can graduate from
college, but we don't have to stay there!

While digging a hole is dirty work and frustrating at times,
it is necessary. Thomas Edison aptly stated, "Restlessness and
discontent are the first necessities of progress."

So although being in a hole is confining and irritating,
just hang on and learn to bloom where you are planted!

A pearl is formed in an oyster because of an irritant that
enters. That irritant causes a secretion to be released, which
actually forms the pearl. So, while you are irritated, realize
that a valuable pearl is being formed deep within you.

Just keep your mouth closed, and bloom where you are planted!
 

beensetfree

Alfrescian (InfP)
Generous Asset
What's Wrong With Your Phone



The girl behind the counter at The Fresh Market in Columbus
noticed the phone clipped to my belt and asked the question,
"What's wrong with your phone?"

"I dropped it yesterday," I replied.

"That must have made you mad," she commented.

"Not really, there are a lot worse things than a cracked phone
screen," I said.

"I guess you're right," she thoughtfully replied.

I left the store with my bag of groceries and my cracked phone.


The phone plopped solidly on the parking lot surface as I got
out of my car the prior morning. It wasn't a long drop. It fell
three feet or so from my waist. The parking lot is rough asphalt
and has small rocky bumps. It was one of those ever so small
rocky bumps that hit the screen beyond the lip of the case. The
spider web of cracks went all over the top half of the phone.

When I picked it up from the ground, I knew the screen would
need to be replaced and I also knew the phone wasn't insured.
A cracked screen is the most common damage to a phone. In all of
the years that I've owned a cell phone, this was my first
cracked screen. Insurance costs $10 per month and has a $150
deductible. It costs $200 to get the screen replaced. I did the
math and the insurance just didn't make financial sense.

So I looked at the uninsured cracked screen.

I smiled.

Yes, I really did.

I've learned in life there are two things in life not to get mad
about.

The first thing to keep your cool about is something that you
can do absolutely nothing about. There was nothing that I could
do about the fact that I had cracked my screen on my uninsured
phone.

There was no need to get angry about the clip that dislodged
from my belt as I got out of the car. There was no need to fuss
about the glass that seemed to shatter like an eggshell with the
relatively mild drop. I surely couldn't fuss about the rough
asphalt.

The second thing to keep cool about is something that has
happened that you can do something about. Getting mad rarely
helps the situation and usually makes it worse.

Don't get mad. Get smart!

My skin is smooth. It has no visible cracks. Frowning, brooding,
hating and grimacing will eventually wrinkle and crack your
face. You can't fix those cracks for $200. Plus, frowning (like
smiling) is contagious and I'd rather not spread negative energy.

There is the good and bad in every situation.

The screen was cracked but the phone still worked. My son
cracked his screen and it didn't work at all. Nothing, nada, zip.
He had trouble getting his data from the phone and it was
useless until he got it replaced. My screen worked fine through
the lattice of cracks. It would cost two Ben Franklins to get it
fixed but I had the money. There was no rush to get a new phone.
Thus, I was standing at the register with a cracked but working
phone on my hip.

The biggest accidents and disasters with cell phones aren't that
they are dropped, damaged, lost or stolen. The biggest disasters
occur from the words spoken through the phone.

There are a lot worse things than a cracked phone screen.

I smiled at her when I said it. She smiled back as she realized
the deeper truth of the statement.

Cracks are contagious. Whether it's the crack of a frown that
points down or the crack of a smile pointing upwards,
it's contagious.

So... what's wrong with your phone?

~A MountainWings Original~

Addendum: I went back to The Fresh Market the following week.

"You're the one with the broken cell phone!" the cashier said
as I stood at the register. Although last week was the first
time I could recall seeing her, she remembered.

I showed her my phone. "It's almost as good as new," I told her.

I had a crack on my face.

Pointing upwards.
 
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