Humility
I like the thought said self awareness: that the self awareness factor is what makes low and high self esteem both equally unacceptable. . When you see a "real" humble person, you are not aware at all if they are analyzing their performance. I really don't even think they know they are humble,
I thank God that the gospel is to be preached to every creature. I thank God the commission is so free. There is no man so far gone, but the grace of Godcan reach him; no man so desperate or so black, but He can forgive him. Yes, I thank God I can preach the gospel to the man or the woman who is as black as hell itself. I thank God for the “whosoevers” of the invitations of Christ. “God so loved the world that He gave his only begotten Son, that whosoeverbelieveth on Him should not perish, but have everlasting life,” and “Whosoever will , let him take the water of life freely.”
I heard of a woman once who thought there was no promise in the Bible for her, they were all for other people. One day she got a letter, and when she opened it, found it was not for her at all, but for some other woman of the same name. It led her to ask herself, “If I should find some promise in the Bibledirected to me, how should I know that it meant me , and not some other woman?” And she found out that she must just take God at his word, and include herself among the “whosoevers” and the “every creatures” to whom the gospel is freely preached. I know that word “whosoever” means every man, everywoman, every child in this wide world. It means that boy down there, that gray-haired man, that maiden in the blush of youth, that young man breaking a mother’s heart, that drunkard steeped in misery and sin. Oh, my friends, will you not believe this good news? Will you not receive this wonderful gospel ofChrist? Will you not believe, poor sinner, that it means you ? Will you say it is too good to be true?
I was in Ohio a few years ago, and was invited to preach in the State prison. Eleven hundred convicts were brought into the chapel, and all sat in front of me. After I had got through the preaching, the chaplain said to me: “Mr. Moody, I want to tell you of a scene which occurred in this room. A few years ago, our commissioners went to the governor of the State, and got him to promise that he would pardon five men for good behavior. The governor consented, with this understanding — that the record was to be kept secret, and that at the end of six months the five men highest on the roll should receive a pardon, regardless of who or what they were. At the end of six months the prisoners were all brought into the chapel; the commissioners came up, and the President stood up on the platform, and putting his hand in his pocket, brought out some papers, and said, ‘I hold in my hand pardons for five men.’” The chaplain told me he never witnessed anything on earth like it. Every man was as still as death; many were deadly pale, and the suspense was awful; it seemed as if every heart had ceased to beat. The commissioner went on to tell them how they had got the pardon; but the chaplain interrupted him. “Before you make your speech, read out the names. This suspense is awful.” So he read out the first name, “Reuben Johnson will come and get his pardon;” and he held it out, but none came forward. He said to the governor, “Are all the prisoners here?” The governor told him they were all there. Then he said again “Reuben Johnson will come and get his pardon. It is signed and sealed by the governor. He is a free man.” Not one moved. The chaplain told me he looked right down where Reuben was; he was well known; he had been nineteen years there, and many were looking round to see him spring to his feet. But he himself was looking round to see the fortunate man who had got his pardon. Finally the chaplain caught his eye and said, “Reuben, you are the man.”Reuben turned round and looked behind him to see where Reuben was. The chaplain said the second time, “Reuben, you are the man;” and the second time he looked round, thinking it must be some other Reuben. So men do not believe the gospel is for them. They think it is too good, and pass it over their shoulders to the next man. But you are the man tonight. Well, the chaplain could see where Reuben was, and he had to say three times, “Reuben, come and get your pardon.” At last the truth began to steal over the old man; he got up and came along down the hall, trembling from head to foot, and when he got the pardon he looked at it, and went back to his seat, and buried his face in his hands, and wept. When the prisoners got into the ranks to go back to the cells, Reuben got into the ranks too, and the chaplain had to call to him, “Reuben, get out of the ranks; you are a free man, you are no longer aprisoner.” And Reuben stepped out of the ranks. He was free! That is the way men make out pardons. They make them out for good character or good behavior. But God makes out pardons for men who have not got any character, who have been very, very bad. He offers a pardon to every sinner on earthif he will take it. I do not care who he is or what he is like.
He may be the greatest libertine that ever walked the streets, or the greatest blackguard who ever lived, or the greatest drunkard, or thief, or vagabond; but I come tonight with glad tidings, and preach the gospel to every creature.--DL Moody
There was an Englishman who had an only son; and only sons are often petted, and humored, and ruined. This boy became very headstrong, and very often he and his father had trouble. One day they had a quarrel, and the father was very angry, and so was the son; and the father said he wished the boywould leave home and never come back. The boy said he would go, and would not come into his father’s house again till he sent for him. The father said he would never send for him. Well, away went the boy. But when a father gives up a boy, a mother does not. You mothers will understand that, but the fathers may not. You know there is no love on earth so strong as a mother’s love. A great many things may separate a man and his wife; a great many things may separate a father from a son; but there is nothing in the wide world that can ever separate a true mother from her child. To be sure, there are some mothers that have drunk so much liquor, that they have drunk up all their affection. But I am talking about a true mother; and she would never cast off her boy.
Well, the mother began to write, and plead with the boy to write to his father first, and he would forgive him; but the boy said, “I will never go home till fatherasks me.” Then she pled with the father, but the father said, “No, I will never ask him.” At last the mother came down to her sick-bed, brokenhearted, and when she was given up by the physicians to die, the husband, anxious to gratify her last wish, wanted to know if there was nothing he could do for her before she died. The mother gave him a look; he well knew what it meant. Then she said, “Yes, there is one thing you can do. You can send for my boy. That is the only wish on earth you can gratify. If you do not pity him and love him when I am dead and gone, who will?” “Well,” said the father, “I will send word to him that you want to see him.” “No,” she says, “you know he will not come for me. If ever I see him you must send for him.” At last the father went to his office and wrote a dispatch in his own name, asking the boy to come home. As soon as he got the invitation from his father he started off to see his dying mother. When he opened the door to go in he found his mother dying, and his father by the bedside. The father heard the door open, and saw theboy, but instead of going to meet him he went to another part of the room, and refused to speak to him. His mother seized his hand — how she had longed to press it! She kissed him, and then said, “Now, my son, just speak to your father. You speak first, and it will all be over.” But the boy said, “No, mother, I will not speak to him until he speaks to me.” She took her husband’s hand in one hand and the boy’s in the other, and spent her dying moments in trying to bring about a reconciliation. Then just as she was expiring — she could not speak — so she put the hand of the wayward boy into the hand of the father, and passed away! The boy looked at the mother, and the father at the wife, and at last the father’s heart broke, and he opened his arms, and took that boy to his bosom, and by that body they were reconciled. Sinner, that is only a faint type, a poor illustration, because God is not angry with you. I bring you tonight to the dead body of Christ. I ask you to look at the wounds in his hands and feet, and the wound in his side. And I ask you, “Will you not be reconciled?”
When he left heaven, He went down into the manger that He might get hold of the vilest sinner, and put the hand of the wayward prodigal into that of theFather, and He died that you and I might be reconciled. If you take my advice you will not sleep tonight until you are reconciled. “Be ye reconciled.” Oh, thisgospel of reconciliation! My friends, is it not a glad gospel?
A brother sent this to me. It looks like it could be lyrics to modern Christian music. I just want to post it for its thought value and for what its worth. Maybe by reading it we can use it as a thought provoker to make me think, "Where am I really at?". Are we "Picket Fence Warriors?"
“Somewhere between the hot and the cold
Somewhere between the new and the old
Somewhere between who I am and who I used to be
Somewhere in the middle, You'll find me
Somewhere between the wrong and the right
Somewhere between the darkness and the light
Somewhere between who I was and who You're making me
Somewhere in the middle, You'll find me
Just how close can I get, Lord, to my surrender without losing all control
Fearless warriors in a picket fence, reckless abandon wrapped in common sense
Deep water faith in the shallow end and we are caught in the middle
With eyes wide open to the differences, the God we want and the God who is
But will we trade our dreams for His or are we caught in the middle
Are we caught in the middle
Somewhere between my heart and my hands
Somewhere between my faith and my plans
Somewhere between the safety of the boat and the crashing waves
Somewhere between a whisper and a roar
Somewhere between the altar and the door
Somewhere between contented peace and always wanting more
Somewhere in the middle You'll find me
Just how close can I get, Lord, to my surrender without losing all control
Fearless warriors in a picket fence, reckless abandon wrapped in common sense
Deep water faith in the shallow end and we are caught in the middle
With eyes wide open to the differences, the God we want and the God who is
But will we trade our dreams for His or are we caught in the middle
Fearless warriors in a picket fence, reckless abandon wrapped in common sense
Deep water faith in the shallow end and we are caught in the middle
With eyes wide open to the differences, the God we want and the God who is
But will we trade our dreams for His or are we caught in the middle
Lord, I feel You in this place and I know You're by my side
Loving me even on these nights when I'm caught in the middle,
caught in the middle”
Casting Crowns
Anthony and Darla Penner are giving a report on Sunday night on life in Oriani, Haiti… they are home for furlough. They are the ones who wrote about the demon possession letters.
Eastern time zone…
The number is 712-432-1600 the axcess code is 1032744.
The morning after the earthquake in Haiti, when I stepped through the
door of the woodworking shop where I worked at the time, I felt one of
the tremoring aftershocks.......... The folks that I worked with are
not professing christians, not by the farthest stretch of both their
and my own imaginations. They were pretty worked up about the
televangelist who said that "Haiti deserved this because of a pact
that their forefathers had made with the devil in the 1700's". For the
first time ever they really let me know what they thought about a
"supposed" God. They asked me questions that were bordering on the
ludicurious and even the boss put in very little work that day. I was
quiet for the most part, every know and then I would fire off a
question or two in response to theirs, but mostly just prayed and
asked God what answer he was going to send this time.
At last break they were really fired up, when all of a sudden God
impressed me "tell your conversion experience". So I sat up and did
exactly that. These men believe the bible is just a book, God is just
a fable, and religion is hypocrisy. They let me know that they respect
me... but how could I believe this stuff? I told them that I would
tell them but that could not interrupt me for at least 5 mins. I then
asked the biggest fellow if he wanted me to "eliminate" my religion
when I told him why. He acted sorta shocked and said that he didn't
want me to renounce anything... but... ya eliminate it from the
equation... because all they do is blab about the bible and..., so I
interrupted him and said that I would also eliminate the bible.
I then just told them what God had done for me. How he had changed me.
How I used to Hate and now I Love. How I couldn't help but love Him
and my neighbor as myself.
After I told them it was quiet for a couple of minutes, painfully so..
Later on that day the fellow who had talked the loudest came over to
where I was working, and after watching me for a couple of minutes in
silence, said that there were many mornings when he woke up after a
night of drinking that he would pray and ask God to "stop the whole
madness"... But the biggest reason he couldn't except God was because
then he would have to "surrender his will to Him".
The discussion changed after that. Those men went home and told their
wives about the discussion and the next morning they were all fired up
and ready to go again, but this time it wasn't about "if" there was a
God, but "what type of God" there was....
I heard about this story and then found a link to it posted by someone else. As far as I know there is not a copyright, I just thought it would be suitable here:
Is a person a fisherman if year after year he never catches any fish?
It came to pass that a group existed who called themselves fishermen, and lo, there were many fish in the waters all around them. In fact the whole area was surrounded with by streams and lakes filled with fish that were hungry
Week after week and month after month these who called themselves fisherman met in meetings and discussed about their ‘call’ to fish, the abundance of fish and how they may go about fishing. Year after year they carefully defined what fishing means, defended fishing as an occupation and declared that fishing should always be the mission-vision statement and primary task of fisherman.
Continually they searched for new and better methods of fishing and for innovative definition for fishing. Further they said “The fishing industry exists for fishing as fire exists for burning”. They loved slogans such as
“Every fisherman is a fisher” and “A fisherman’s outpost for every fisherman’s club”. Hey sponsored special meetings called fisherman’s campaigns” and “the month for fisherman to fish”. They subsidized global congresses where there were key note addresses on the rationale and best practices in fishing. They promoted new fishing equipment and called for papers to be presented innovation and new baits discovered for fishing.
These fishermen built large, beautiful buildings called “fisherman’s headquarters”. The plea was that everyone should be a fisherman an every fisherman should fish. One thing they didn’t do however, they didn’t fish!
In addition to meeting regularly they formed a board to organize and send out fisherman to other places also where they were many fish. All the fisherman agreed that what was really needed was a supportive board that would challenge fisherman to be faithful. The board was formed of those who with great courage and motivation could do vision-casting for fishing. They spoke of the need to fish in faraway streams and lakes where many fish of different colors lived. Furthermore the board hired staff and appointed committee and sub-committees to defend fishing and look into current trends and issues in fishing, but the staff and committee member did not fish.
Large elaborate and expensive training centers were built who origin and primary purpose was to teach fishermen how to fish. However, over the years specialized courses were offered on the existential needs and intricate nature of fish, the psychological reactions of fish, where to find fish and how to approach and feed fish. Those who taught had PhDs (doctorates) in fishology and became professors and heads of the fishology in universities. But the teachers did not fish; they only taught fishing. Year after year after tedious training, many were graduated and given fishing licenses. They were sent to do full time fishing, some to distant and exotic waters that were filled with fishes.
Some spent much time, money and travel to do research on the history of fishing and see the far away places where the founding fathers did great fishing in centuries past. They lauded the faithful fishermen of by gone years who handed down the idea of fishing.
Further, the fisherman established large printing houses to publish fishing guides. Presses were kept busy day and night to produce material solely devoted to fishing methods, equipment and programs to arrange and to encourage meetings to talk about fishing. A speaker’s bureau was also provided to schedule special speakers on the subject of fishing.
Many who felt the call be fisherman responded. They were commissioned and sent to fish. But like the fisherman back home they engaged in all kinds of other occupations. They build power plants to pump water for fish and tractor to plow new waterways. Hey made all kinds of equipment to travel here and there to look at fish hatcheries. Some also said that they wanted to be a part of a fishing party, but their felt called to furnish fishing equipment. Others felt their job was to relate to the fish in a good way so that the fish would know the difference between good and bad fishermen. Still others felt that letting the fish know that they were nice land-loving neighbors and how loving and kind they were was enough.
After one stirring meeting on “The Necessity of Fishing”, one young fellow left the meeting and went fishing. The next day he reported that he had caught two outstanding fish. He was immediately honored for his excellent catch and scheduled to visit all the big meetings possible to tell how he did it. So he quit his fishing in order to have time to tell about the experience to the other fisherman. He was also placed on the Fisherman’s General Board of Directors as a person having considerable practical experience.
Now it is true that the fisherman sacrificed and put up with all kinds of difficulties. Some lived near the water and bore the smell of dead fish everyday. They received the ridicule of some who made fun of their fisherman’s club and the fact that they claimed to be fisherman and yet never fished. They wondered about those who felt it was of little use to attend the weekly meetings to talk about fishing. After all, were they not following the master who said, “Follow me, and I will make you fishers of men”?
Imagine how hurt some were when one day one person suggested that those who don’t catch fish were really not fishermen, no matter how much they claimed to be. Yet it did sound correct. Is a person a fisherman if year after year he never catches a fish? Is one following if he is not fishing?
A version of this story credited to J. Drescher, Pulpit Digest, July-Aug, 1978
