Farewell for Now

I guess tomorrow I am on my way to Haiti, {Lord Willing}. Just for a week.

END OF THE WORLD: Free from Fear

Fear, a secret enemy, invades men of every age, and every walk of life. It is subtle and devastating, poisoning our thinking, robbing our inner peace, and squelching our zest for living. It makes us nervous, uneasy, alarmed, disturbed, upset, and fainthearted; what unpleasant, unwanted feelings!
We fear conflict and change, failure and frustration. Some people fear sickness and suffering. Others fear that harm will befall their loved ones. Some are afraid of other people and their opinions. Others fear the dark, or to be alone. Many are afraid to die and to face the unknown. There are Christians who fear their salvation is not secure, or that God has not forgiven their sins. They are not only afraid to die, but also afraid to live.
Fear enters our minds so slowly and silently that we hardly realize we are becoming victims of its damaging influence. Even a little fear, like a drop of ink in a glass of water, discolors everything. When this thin stream of fear is not stopped, it cuts a channel into which other thoughts are diverted. The Apostle Paul exhorts us to think on "whatsoever things are true ... honest... just... pure . . . lovely ...of good report" (Philippians 4:8).
Life is complex, the world is violent, but outward troubles need not mar inner peace. It is the fear within we must face. Fear enters when our most important need has not been met. Our souls, made in the image of God, cry out for Him. When we are away from God we can expect to be fraught with phobias, complexes, and fears.

What is Fear?

Fear is the emotion that springs from the knowledge that one's life is not pleasing to God. It was a tragic day when Adam and Eve yielded to the suggestion from Satan to disobey God's command "not to eat of the tree in the midst of the garden." Through disobedience they sinned and then hid from the presence of God. God called them, and Adam said, "I heard thy voice in the garden, and I was afraid" (Genesis 3:10).
Satan works only in darkness. He cannot work in the light because, "God is light, and in him. is no darkness at all" (1 John 1:5). Satan knows our weaknesses, and in these areas he presents thoughts and fears. He seeks to destroy truth and confuse us with falsehood. If we keep these things covered in the darkness of our hearts and minds, Satan will continue his evil work of discouragement and fear. He can be defeated and his powers can be driven back if we expose him to the light.
Satan takes full advantage of our fears. At every opportunity he intensifies them, and makes them seem even more real and logical. Our way becomes darker and darker, and the burden of our heart becomes heavier and heavier, until we lose all hope of deliverance. Remember, God is greater than all fears. Thanks be to God that in His great love He has a plan to save us from the judgments of eternal death in hell. He sent Jesus, His only begotten Son to earth to be our Savior. In His sacrificial death on Calvary's cross He satisfied God's judgment for our sins. In this redemption God has provided a way for us to be delivered from fear, because fear is a result of sin, and Jesus has triumphed over sin and all its influences.
A story is told of a little boy who was afraid to walk alone in the dark night, but when his father walked beside him and took his hand all fear vanished. The darkness now held no fear, because he loved and trusted his father, and knew he would take care of him. Here is the key for us to be free from fear: we must learn to know our heavenly Father well. By communing with Him we leam of His will. His love, and His tender care for us. As we become acquainted with God, we trust our lives completely to Him, placing our hand safely into His. We humbly speak to Him of the questions that plague our minds, and those sorrows of life that would drive us to despair. We must diligently seek His face, be fully surrendered to Him and His will for us, and follow Him in faithful obedience. "There is no fear in love; but perfect love casteth out fear: because fear hath torment. He that feareth is not made perfect in tow" (1 John 4:18).

The Fear of God

There is a fear that pleases God. "The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom" (Psalm 111:10). This is a very proper reverential respect and awe that we feel. We see in part God's greatness, His righteousness. His judgments, His love, His mercy, His wisdom, and His eternal being. He is all-knowing, all-powerful, and all-present. We realize that our very existence is entirely in His hands and that we are before Him as His creation. We are afraid to displease such a God. We know that God's righteousness condemns to hell fire those who live in sin "For if we sin willfully after that we have received the knowledge of the truth, there remaineth no more sacrifice for sins, but a certain fearful looking for of judgment and fiery indignation, which shall devour the adversaries" (Hebrews 10:26,27). This knowledge brings a fear of sin. As we come to know God as our personal friend through repentance, forgiveness, and obedience, our service to Him is motivated by a godly fear, and by love and thanksgiving for His unspeakable gift of salvation. Our fear of Him is not one that strikes terror to our hearts, but one that deepens our love for Him. When fully applied in our lives, this is one fear that removes all others. Why then do so many allow clouds of fear to grip their hearts, trouble their minds, and shadow life's pathway? God's way is a way of peace and trust.
We have the example of the Apostle Peter, as Jesus bade him walk on the stormy waves of the Sea of Galilee. Peter was unafraid until he took his eyes off the Lord, and began to look at the fearful waves. Then he began to sink (Matthew 14:24-31). As we seek freedom from fear and place our confidence in God, His Spirit will speak to us in a still small voice. As we look to Him rather than our fears, the storm calms about us. He can then answer our perplexing questions, replace our doubt with assurance, and take our hand comfortingly in His. We can, by His grace, be free from fear.

The Fear of the Future

The mysterious unknown of the future makes some people uneasy. Each morning they awaken to an unpredictable day. They face those nagging "what ifs" as their minds race down the dark alleys of imaginary dread. "Be careful for nothing; but in every thing by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God" (Philippians 4:6). This is a simple step to a day without fear. Try it and see!
Many fear the future because they lack direction for their lives. Not knowing where they are going, they have a sense of foreboding. God knows what lies ahead, and when they let Him lead them, their lives will not be an aimless journey but rather the way home.
God has promised to be faithful to those who trust Him even though they face an unknown future. Do you believe it? No matter how severe the storm, or dark the night, or high the mountain, He will take you through.

The Fear of Failure

We have a desire to achieve, but we fear that we will fail-fail ourselves, our families, fail life itself. We fear we will make a wrong choice and carry out a wrong plan.
God commanded Joshua, "be strong and of good courage; be not afraid; for the Lord thy God is with thee withersoever thou goest" (Joshua 1:9). When we place our lives under the direction of the Master, past failures need not be final; they can become stepping-stones to success.

The Fear of Suffering

We all cringe at the thought of bodily pain, the hurt of criticism, the pang of loneliness and grief. God will not shield us from all suffering, but He will supply the grace to bear it. He has promised peace and assurance in the midst of our troubles. "God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore will not we fear" (Psalm 46:1,2). If we love the Lord, he will use suffering for our good. Suffering provides an opportunity to know the presence and upholding power of God. It also brings depth of character and an understanding heart. Suffering can either make us or break us. Which will it be?

The Fear of Death

The fear of death is very common to mankind. Saying good-by is a most painful assignment.
We need to come to grips with the age-old question, "If a man die, shall he live again?" (Job 14:14). Jesus came to deliver us from the fear of death (Hebrews 2:14,15). That is why He died and arose again, and that is why He promised, "Because I live, ye shall live also" (John 14:19). With Him, death is not a door into nothingness but a shining gateway into a new life. "Let not your heart be troubled:... In my Father's house are many mansions:. . . I go to prepare a place for you" (John 14:1,2). It will be a prepared place for a prepared people.
Are you prepared? Have you repented of your life of sin? Repentance brings a remorse for past sins and a turning away from the old life. When was the last time you came to the Lord in prayer and gave Him your load of care, your worries and fears? Jesus says, "Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest" (Matthew 11:28). What an invitation! What a promise!
Come - trustfully, prayerfully, and hopefully, and you will have peace of mind.
Come - and you will know the gentle joys of restful living. God invites you to trust Jesus Christ and be free, free from fear. Come! 
Gospel Tract  & Bible Society Publication
http://churchofgodinchristmennonite.net/node/4

Ultimate Mission Program: The Sending of the Twelve

“The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he hath anointed me to preach the gospel to the poor; he hath sent me to heal the brokenhearted, to preach deliverance to the captives, and recovering of sight to the blind, to set at liberty them that are bruised, To preach the acceptable year of the Lord” (Luke 4:18-19)




Luke 9:1-6
Then he called his twelve disciples together, and gave them power and authority over all devils, and to cure diseases. 


And he sent them to preach the kingdom of God, and to heal the sick. 


And he said unto them, Take nothing for your journey, neither staves, nor scrip, neither bread, neither money; neither have two coats apiece. 


And whatsoever house ye enter into, there abide, and thence depart. And whosoever will not receive you, when ye go out of that city, shake off the very dust from your feet for a testimony against them. And they departed, and went through the towns, preaching the gospel, and healing every where.


1. He sent them out to both preach the kingdom and heal the sick (both spirit and humanitarian needs)


2.They lived on the level of the people and stayed at their houses and were outfitted what looks to me as a low budget. Does not look like they were worth robbing.


3.They blanketed the territory: village to village till villages either accepted them or rejected them.


These are just thoughts. As from N America, we would have difficulties in carrying a program like this out or would we?  Impossible? Or if we can't should someone be found that could: Like people that are natives and know their own peoples culture and recognized needs. (Too idealistic?) Anyways if they become born again should not that responsibility towards their people become cultivated?  I am talking about the Third World here, but this could include the big cities and slums of any countries, places that would especially cause us unease or particular caution.  No over generalizations are needed here we just like or need to ask ourselves from time to time: What Would Jesus Do?


The end of chapter Luke 9 ends like this:


..........a certain man said unto him, Lord, I will follow thee whithersoever thou goest. 
And Jesus said unto him, Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests; but the Son of man hath not where to lay his head. 


And he said unto another, Follow me. But he said, Lord, suffer me first to go and bury my father. 
Jesus said unto him, Let the dead bury their dead: but go thou and preach the kingdom of God. 




And another also said, Lord, I will follow thee; but let me first go bid them farewell, which are at home at my house. 
And Jesus said unto him, No man, having put his hand to the plough, and looking back, is fit for the kingdom of God

End of the World : May 21, 2011 ?

But of that day and hour knoweth no man, no, not the angels of heaven, but my Father only. Matt. 24:36


For yourselves know perfectly that the day of the Lord so cometh as a thief in the night. 1 Thess. 5:2

I Am Going to Visit the Orian Clinic in Haiti

iLord willing, I am planning to leave for Haiti for a week on May 25th. I am going with Dave Wenger. I am suppose to bring ultra sound gel and a few other things. Dave and his son Carson are going to bring a satellite internet connection for the clinic. Dave also wants to look at some fish projects in the vicinity, etc. Pray for us and thanks for your interest.

Some Mission Program "Opinions"

Disclaimer: (((((Just Personal Opinions))))

I have enjoyed keeping up with the progress of the various humanitarian programs going on. I also realize that there is a valid concern as a church for the future direction of these endeavors. We need to be subject to one another as brethren and held accountable. Whatever happens I have confidence in the direction given in the future.  In the same token I am glad they happened and I am glad they shake the bush as it were. That way it does two things, it gets more people interested and involved than before and it makes the other programs step up their "game". When I say "game", I am talking about how impersonal some of the programs have become. That is unless you have family, friends in the mission field, or are on the board. You may hear the odd reports, but alot depends on your congregation's involvement.  After that you receive a few letters asking for money, a newsletter and maybe a calender with some trivia and facts on it. Then if you are more interested you study the Yearbook and read the financial report booklet. There is a few meetings that the congregations may host ever so often for the board meetings.
Then it is suddenly that a few larger private projects can get completed because they capture the lethargic imagination and inspire the heart  for a special need. It is not long when volunteers, finances, and motivation materialize. The budget is micro managed so the project gets completed it is run with the carefulness of a business venture, promoting confidence. (sounds good anyway). OK, we are not trying to insinuate that the mission program is not doing these things but here is a view that our present system gives that leaves one a little indifferent view. I don't think this is the place for it. I personally have confidence in the Churches projects---It just would be nice if they could bring more of an awareness to what is going on. Here are some suggestions:
1. Have traveling speakers give motivational talks on projects and special needs that can be funded on congregational levels
2. Spruce up the Missionary Voice to include articles more on ongoing projects and needs along with the letters. Also trivia for children or young adults to test their geographical knowledge or something to help generate their interest. Pick a country or culture and have info, history, or something to help people form a picture in their mind about these places. It would pay off to keep people informed. Too many times one just scans the headings and names to determine the interest level.
3.Cut costs and frustrations by hiring missionaries out of the native members. A vast subject in itself. But my only point being that if born again believers are coming to the fold they need to carry a burden for their own. We are not the ones with all the answers. I know this is part of our mission psych , but for myself --if I can not live on a close level to what the natives live--help me God and send me one of their own to bridge the gap and go the places we cannot . Love bridges cultures and every case is different, but in truth it takes alot to know what makes ones in another culture tick.
 Just a few thoughts and opinions. I have had a very cosmopolitan and varied upbringing. I have mainly lived in Canada and United States. I have direct links to three or four different cultures within my background. I have lived in poverty, the bush and the city. My whole life has revolved around bridging gaps and a yearning that Christ could be the common ground for my family. As time progressed I realized my "family" includes the church and my "neighbors" means all man. The circle continues to increase.So what is my responsibility and to what extent should I not do good to those that it is in my power to do good? Far more importantly how can I   share the Gospel with others. It is not said always by our lips but more often by our love and by our actions.

In a multitude of counselors there is wisdom and direction and so what more to say. These are just a few passing thoughts and even at that I don't feel like really have much to say on the matter...................

Mr. Eternity the story of Mr. Arthur Stace of Sydney, Australia

I read an interesting story on the web about Mr. Eternity--- Arthur Stace 1884-1967. I read it on a web site devoted to busting myths and it listed this one as a story that was proven to be true.  Apparently you can still see his handy work written inside a bell at the old Sydney Post Office.  His one word graffiti sermon is the word "Eternity" as seen in the photograph above. He  had very little education and could barely write his name but he knew how to  inscribe, " Eternity."For one decade it was a mystery-- this flourishing hand written, "Eternity" was written with crayon or chalk  on side walks, doors, and on the streets; author unknown.  What possessed this man to write this Word half a million times on the streets of Sydney.

 He came from a family of alcholics. He had two sisters that ran brothels. He grew up stealing to take care of his needs, eventually coming under the care of the state. He started work on a coalmine until he ran afoul of the law by the age fifteen. By his twenties he was a drinking low lifer that signed up for WW 1 in France. There he got messed up by poison gas an had one eye nearly blinded. Of course he came back thus scared and slipped back into the bottle living on handouts.
 He happened to a church service for men that offered free food afterwards in the 1930's. He was impressed with the clean look of the Christian men. According to one of the sources I read that he said, "Well look at them and look at us. I'm having a go at what they have got," -- and he slipped down on his knees and prayed. The amazing thing is that afterwards he was able to give up the bottle and get a job. 
Later he heard a hell fire sermon where the preacher shouted, "I wish I could shout ETERNITY through all the streets of Sydney!"

Mr. Stace recieved his calling  "He repeated himself and kept shouting 'ETERNITY, ETERNITY' and his words were ringing through my brain as I left the church. Suddenly I began crying and I felt a powerful call from the Lord to write "ETERNITY". I had a piece of chalk in my pocket and I bent down there and wrote it."

He got his direction for the day after an hour of prayer in the morning around 5am  or so then he would write evey hundred meters or so in a visible place. Usually he was back at home in five hours. He was a short man, but it is still a wonder that few people noticed him. He saw  it as a mission but did not desire any publicity for it and would not come forward.
He finally was caught one day by his pastor and the story came out. He continued on even after this. He died at 83 in 1967. 

In 1994, a well-received documentary was shot, interviewing those who had known Arthur Stace, and featuring dark, atmospheric scenes of a man, by night, combing the streets of Sydney, writing Eternity on the pavements.

And when the State Library of New South Wales recently hosted an exhibition of the lives of Sydney's most notable eccentrics, his name was prominent in the introduction, as perhaps the best public symbol of a group to which he was not, in the end, admitted. Because eccentrics are lighter than life. You take them or leave them, you find them amusing, diverting, escapist. But that is not how we respond to Stace's Eternity and so, intuitively, we exclude him from their company. Not because of any superiority to that group, but precisely for the opposite reason: eccentrics are often gifted and astonishing people, but really, he was not - He was a normal man, one who pretended nothing more, who'd had a hard life, but who was driven along by a calling, and whose impact was just the normal and the natural impact of a sublime idea. 

 Later at the Sydney Olympics they put up his trademark "Eternity" signature on a bridge for all to see during a fire work display.

Makes you wonder how many people were caused to stop and consider the weightiness of this one word. Where will we spend eternity? A personal choice.

Alot of the material I drew upon was from the article found here, though his story is in Wikipedia and numerous other places.

http://www.wesleymission.org.au/publications/eternity/eternity.htm

Forty-Eight Hours in Hell

John W Reynolds

One of the most interesting cases of resuscitation that ever came to my knowledge was that of George Lennox, a notorious horse thief of Jefferson County. He was serving his second term. Sedgwick County sent him to the prison the first time for a similar offense - stealing horses.

During the winter of 1887 and 1888 he worked in the coal mines. The place where he was laboring seemed dangerous to him. He reported the fact to the officer in charge, who made an examination, and deciding that the room was safe, ordered Lennox back to his work. The convict, obeying, had not continued his work more than an hour, when the roof fell in and completely buried him. He remained in this condition fully two hours.

Missed at dinner time, a search was instituted for the missing convict, and he was found under this heap of rubbish. Life seemed extinct. He was taken to the top, and on examination by the prison physician, was pronounced dead. His remains were carried to the hospital where he was washed and dressed, preparatory for interment. His coffin was made and brought to the hospital. The chaplain had arrived to perform the last sad rites preparatory to burial. A couple of prisoners were ordered by the hospital steward to lift the corpse from the boards and carry it across the room and place it in the coffin. They obeyed, one at the head, the other at the feet and were about half way across the room when the one who was at the head accidentally stumbled over a cuspidor, lost his balance, and dropped the corpse. The head of the dead man struck the floor, and to the utter surprise and astonishment of all present, a deep groan was heard. Soon the eyes opened, and other appearances of life were manifested. The physician was immediately sent for, and by the time he arrived, some thirty minutes, the dead man had called for a cup of water, and was in the act of drinking when the physician arrived.

The coffin was at once removed and later on was used to bury another convict in. His robes were also taken from him, and the prison garb substituted. On an examination he was found to have one of his legs broken in two places, and was otherwise bruised. He remained in the hospital some six months, and again went to work.

I learned of his peculiar experience while apparently dead soon after, from a fellow miner. Prompted by curiosity, I longed for an acquaintance with Lennox to get his experience from his own lips. This opportunity was not offered for several months. At last it came. After being removed from the mines I was detailed to one of the prison offices to make out some annual reports. The subject of this man"s return to life was being discussed one day, when he happened to pass by the office door and was pointed out to me. It was not long until I had a note in his hand, and asked him to come where I was at work. He did so, and here I got well acquainted with him, and from his own lips received his wonderful story. He is a young man, probably not over thirty years of age. He had been a hardened criminal; is possessed of a very good education, and naturally very bright.

The most wonderful part of his story was that during the time he was dead. Being a shorthand reporter, I took his story from dictation.

Said he: "I had a presentiment all the morning that something terrible was going to happen. I was so uneasy on account of my feelings that I went to my mining boss Mr. Grason, and told him how I felt, and asked him if he would not come and examine my coal room, the place where I was digging coal. He came and seemed to make a thorough examination, and ordered me back to work, saying there was no danger, and that he thought I was going "cranky." I returned to my work, and had been digging away for something like an hour, when all of a sudden it grew very dark. Then it seemed as if a great iron door swung open and I passed through it. The thought then came to my mind that I was dead and in another world. I could see no one, nor hear sound of any kind. From some cause unknown to myself, I started to move away from the doorway, and had traveled some distance when I came to the banks of a broad river. It was not dark, neither was it light. There was about as much light as on a bright, star lit night. I had not remained on the banks of this river very long until I could hear the sound of oars in the water, and soon a person in a boat rowed up to where I was standing.

"I was speechless. He looked at me for a moment, and then said that he had come for me, and told me to get into the boat and row across to the other side. I obeyed. Not a word was spoken. I longed to ask him who he was, and where I was. My tongue seemed to cling to the roof of my mouth. I could not say a word. Finally we reached the opposite shore. I got out of the boat, and the boatman vanished out of sight.

"Thus left alone, I knew not what to do. Looking out before me, I saw two roads which led through a dark valley. One of these was a broad road and seemed to be well traveled. The other was a narrow path and led off in another direction. I instinctively followed the well-beaten road. I had not gone far when it seemed to grow darker. Ever and anon, however a light would flash up from the distance, and in this manner I was lighted on my journey.

"Presently I was met by a being that is utterly impossible for me to describe. I can only give you a faint idea of his dreadful appearance. He resembled a man somewhat, but was much larger than any human being I ever saw. He must have been at least ten feet high. He had great wings on his back. He was black as the coal I had been digging, and in a perfectly nude condition. He had a spear in his hand, the handle of which must have been fully fifteen feet in length. His eyes shone like balls of fire. His teeth, white as pearl, seemed fully an inch long. His nose, if you could call it a nose, was very large, broad and flat. His hair was very coarse, heavy and long. It hung down upon his massive shoulders. His voice sounded more like the growls of a lion in a menagerie than anything I can recall.

"It was during one of the flashes of light that I first saw him. I trembled like an aspen leaf at the sight. He had his spear raised as if to send it flying through me. I suddenly stopped. With that terrible voice I seem to hear yet, he bade me follow him; that he had been sent to guide me on my journey. I followed. What else could I do? After he had gone some distance a large mountain appeared to rise up before us. The part facing us seemed perpendicular, just as if a mountain had been cut in two and one part had been taken away. On this perpendicular wall I could distinctly see these words, "This is Hell." My guide approached this perpendicular wall, and with his spear handle gave three loud raps. A large massive door swung back and we passed in. I was then conducted on through what appeared to be a passage through this mountain.

"For some time we traveled in Egyptian darkness. I could hear the heavy footfalls of my guide and thus could follow him. All the way along I could hear deep groans as of someone dying. Further on, these groans increased, and I could distinctly hear the cry water, water, water. Coming now to another gateway, and, passing through, I could hear, it seemed, a million voices in the distance, and the cry was for water, water. Presently another large door opened at the knock of my guide, and I found that we had passed through the mountain, and now a broad plain lay before me.

"At this place my guide left me to direct other lost spirits to the same destination. I remained in this open plain for a time, when a being somewhat similar to the first one came to me; but instead of a spear he had a huge sword. He came to tell me of my future doom. He spoke with a voice that struck horror to my soul. "Thou art in hell," he said; "for thee all hope is fled. As thou passed through the mountain on thy way hither, thou didst hear the groans and shrieks of the lost as they called for water to cool their parched tongues. Along that passage there is a door that opens into the lake of fire. This is soon to be thy doom. Before thou art conducted to this place of torment never more to emerge - for there is no hope for those who enter there - thou shalt be permitted to remain in this open plain, where it is granted to all the lost to behold what they might have enjoyed instead of what they must suffer."

With this I was left alone. Whether the result of the terrible fright through which I had passed I know not, but now I became stupefied. A dull languor took full possession of my frame. My strength departed from me. My limbs refused to support my body longer. Overcome, I now sank down a helpless mass. Drowsiness now took control of me. Half awake, half asleep, I seemed to dream. Far above me, and in the distance, I saw the Beautiful City of which we read in the Bible. How wonderfully beautiful were its walls of jasper. Stretching out and away in the distance. I saw vast plains covered with beautiful flowers. I, too, beheld the river of life and would pass in and out through the gates of the city, singing, oh, such beautiful songs. Among the number I saw my dear old mother, who died a few ears ago of a broken heart because of my wickedness. She looked toward me and seemed to beckon me to her, But I could not move. There appeared to be a great weight upon me that held me down. now a gentle breeze wafted the fragrance if those lovely flowers toward me, and I could now more plainly than ever, hear the sweet melody of angel voices, and I said, "Oh, that I could be one of them."

"As I was drinking from this cup of bliss it was suddenly dashed from my lips. I was aroused from my slumbers. I was brought back from happy dreamland by an inmate of my dark abode, who said that it was now time to enter upon my future career. He bade me follow him. Retracing my steps I again entered the dark passageway, and followed my guide for a time, when we came to a door that opened in the side of the passage, and going along this, we finally found ourselves passing through another door, and lo! I beheld the lake of fire.

"Just before me I could see, as far as the eye could reach, that literal lake of fire and brimstone. Huge billows of fire would roll over each other, and great waves of fiery flame would dash against each other and leap high in the air like the waves of the sea during a violent storm. On the crest of the waves I could see human beings rise, but soon to be carried down again to the lowest depths of this awful lake of fire. When borne on the crest of these awful billows for a time their curses against a just God would be appalling, and their pitiful cries for water would be heart-rending. This vast region of fire echoed and reechoed with the wails of these lost spirits.

Presently I turned my eyes to the door through which I had a few moments before entered, and I read these awful words, "This is thy doom; Eternity never ends." Shortly I began to feel the earth give way under my feet, and I soon found myself sinking down into the lake of fire. An indescribable thirst for water now seized upon me. And calling for water my eyes opened in the hospital prison.

"I have never told this experience of mine before for fear the prison officials would get hold of it, think me insane and lock me in the crankhouse. I passed through all of this, and I am as well satisfied as I am that I live, that there is a heaven and there is a Hell, and a regular old-fashioned Hell, the kind the Bible tells about. But there is one thing certain, I am never going to that place any more.

"As soon as I opened my eyes in the hospital and found that I was alive and on earth once more, I immediately gave my heart to God and I am going to live and die a Christian. While the terrible sights of Hell can never be banished from my memory, neither can the beautiful things of Heaven I saw, I am going to meet my dear old mother after awhile. To be permitted to sit down on the banks of that beautiful river, to wander with those angels across the plains, through the vales and over the hills carpeted with fragrant flowers, the beauty of which far surpasses anything that mortal can imagine; to listen to the songs of the saved - all this ill more than compensate me for living the life of a Christian here on earth, even if I have to forego many sensual pleasures in which I indulged before coming to the prison. I have abandoned my companions in crime, and am going to associate with good people when I am once more a free man.”

We give the account to the reader just as we received it from Lennox.

It is one of the most wonderful experiences it has ever been our lot to read. May God bless this message from Mr. Lennox to the awakening of many lost souls. Oh, how can men doubt the existence of a real, literal burning Hell? Tell me, how can they, when we have the Word and remarkable revelation such as the above from time to time? Men and women, stop! Face about! Get a real Bible experience of heart felt salvation, lest you experience the reality of not only forty-eight hours, but an Eternity in Hell.

To read more Free Gospel Tracts see http://e-menno.org/tracts.htm

The Room: The Truth Behind the Origin of the Tract?

What you read here does not Change the value of the message of the story for the source of the report go to
http://www.truthorfiction
or http://www.joshharris.com/authorship_controversy.php
http://www.breakthechain.org/exclusives/theroom.html

It has been researched and concluded that the following story the Room was read to a group of athletes by a Brian Moore who shortly later died in a tragic accident. However it is pointed that the story's actual origin was by speaker and author Joshua Harris and is in his book "I Kissed Dating Goodbye. He relates that he had a dream during the Billy Graham Puerto Rico Crusade in 1995. The people who had heard the story from Brian Moore sincerely thought he had written it.  
It really doesn't change the story's value at all but seems to clarify why the Room has been a conflict over authorship.  I found this interesting as this is a very popular tract that we hand out as a Church group. May it continue to be so. Whoever really wrote it defiantly seemed to be inspired of God as it has done good for people to read it and us all to consider it's truth for our own lives.
  
Here is the original J. Harris version:


THE ROOM

by Joshua Harris

In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found
myself in the room. There were no distinguishing features
save 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 endlessly 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 16
years to write 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 "Songs I
Have Listened To", 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
music, but more by the vast amount of 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 an 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 the hurt 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.

Bamboo: A Lesson of Humility

Proverbs 25:9
He guides the humble in what is right and teaches them his way.


This article inspired me today and I would like to share it as I have had very little time to write any original material. This story is one of those public domain author unknown stories. I would like to cultivate that kind of humility that relies on trust and faith in God which is so needed in these perilous times. Pray for me. Let's pray for each other. -J.T.


Once upon a time, in the heart of the Western Kingdom, lay a beautiful garden. And there, in the cool of the day, the Master of the garden was wont to walk. Of all the denizens of the garden, the most beautiful and most beloved was gracious and noble bamboo. Year after year, bamboo grew yet more noble and gracious, conscious of his Master’s love and watchful delight, but modest and gentle withal. And often when the wind came to revel in the garden, Bamboo would cast aside his grave stateliness, to dance and play right merrily, tossing and swaying and leaping and bowing in joyous abandon, leading the Great Dance of the garden, Which most delighted the Master’s heart.
Now, once upon a day, the Master himself drew near to contemplate his Bamboo with eyes of curious expectancy. And Bamboo, in a passion of adoration, bowed his great head to the ground in loving greeting.
The Master spoke: “Bamboo, Bamboo, I would use you.”
Bamboo flung his head to the sky in utter delight. The day of days had come, the day for which he had been made, the day to which he had been growing hour by hour, the day in which he would find his completion and his destiny.
His voice came low: “Master, I’m ready. Use me as Thou wilt.”
“Bamboo,” – The Master’s voice was grave --- “I would have to take you and cut you down!”
A trembling of great horror shook Bamboo…”Cut …me… down ? Me.. who thou, Master, has made the most beautiful in all thy Garden…cut me down! Ah, not that. Not that. Use me for the joy, use me for the glory, oh master, but cut me not down!”
Beloved Bamboo,”—The Master’s voice grew graver still—“If I cut you not down, I cannot use you.”
The garden grew still. Wind held his breath. Bamboo slowly bent his proud and glorious head. There was a whisper:
“Master, if thou cannot use me other than to cut me down.. then do thy will and cut”.
“Bamboo, beloved Bamboo, I would cut your leaves and branches from you also”.
“Master, spare me. Cut me down and lay my beauty in the dust; but would thou also have to take from me, my leaves and branches too?”
“Bamboo, if I cut them not away, I cannot use you.”
The Sun hid his face. A listening butterfly glided fearfully away. And Bamboo shivered in terrible expectancy, whispering low: “Master, cut away”
“Bamboo, Bamboo, I would yet… split you in two and cut out your heart, for if I cut not so, I cannot use you.”
Then Bamboo bowed to the ground: “Master, Master… then cut and split.”
So did the Master of the garden took Bamboo…
and cut him down…
and hacked off his branches…
and stripped off his leaves…
and split him in two…
and cut out his heart.
And lifting him gently, carried him to where there was a spring of fresh sparkling water in the midst of his dry fields. Then putting one end of the broken Bamboo in the spring and the other end into the water channel in His field, the Master laid down gently his beloved Bamboo… And the spring sang welcome, and the clear sparkling waters raced joyously down the channel of bamboo’s torn body into the waiting fields. Then the rice was planted, and the days went by, and the shoots grew and the harvest came.
In that day Bamboo, once so glorious in his stately beauty, was yet more glorious in his brokenness and humility. For in his beauty he was life abundant, but in his brokenness he became a channel of abundant life to his Master’s world.
Author Unknown


Proverbs 22:4
Humility and the fear of the LORD bring wealth and honor and life

God is No Respecter of Persons

This article was written and submitted by a brother.  

Could it be true that some chistians and select groups do not really understand this profound truth? The bible could'nt be more explicit and clear on this matter than what it teaches in Acts 10 and primarily verse 34.

    As a boy growing up in a christian home and for many years later I failed to grasp this truth as taught in the bible. My intellect told me different, but deep in my heart there was a certain partiality within me that could'nt grasp this wonderful profound truth.

    Thanks be to God he has a way to open our eyes to his love and truth in his own good time and circunstances and that happened to me in a most unusual and unexepected way.

     We spent 10 years in Albuq. N.M. as missionaries and met many kinds of people, some living in the deep gutter of sin and it was our resolve to do what we could to lead them to Christ and assure them that there was deliverance in store for them, but this lack of vision of Gods unpartial love hindered me to be as effevtive as I could really be.

     We had an extensive jail ministry going and here you indeed meet the results of sin and It's consequences. It happened one Sunday afternoon where we had a service scheduled on the womens pod. A group of us sang with them together and then we had a bible lesson. We were about to close with a prayer when a woman stepped up named Sandy. What a sight to behold, her hair disheveled and knotted up, her eye watering, her nose running and a look of utter dispair all over her face. Would you all please have a prayer for me before you leave, I'm a heroin addict and I'm going thru withdrawals and I feel like I'm in hell. That is indeed the experience those feel when they are in a cold turkey withdrawal. She also lived a life of prostitution to support her habit.

    Well here I was facing a gutter filled life and reaping what she had sown and rightfully so, at least I thot in my heart. So what now? To refuse her request for prayer was not an option, and yet to pray for a cause I didn't think would happen. We had that prayer and asked God to deliver her from her agony and touch her.

We left faithless but at least we had done our duty.

    Thursday was our day to come back to the jail and distribute christian literature, writting paper, pencils, etc. We came to the womens pod walked in and instantly there was Sandy. Oh thank you, thank you she exclaimed. You no more than got out the door Sunday and Jesus touched me and I was totally delivered from my withdrawals. Her hair was combed so nice and a glow on her face that told a miracle had happened to her.

    Imagine how I felt,so thankful but so very reproved that I had been faithless and limited Gods great unbiased love. The scales fell from my eyes at that moment and I recieved a new vision of Gods tender love for every human on this earth, regardless of their sin and rejection of him.

     Sad to say when Sandy got out she fell back into her old life and about a year later I read in the paper she was killed for drug reasons.

    God knew she would fall away that Sunday, but his tender love reached out to her in spite of her future life. When someone calls out to him in desperation he responds with his love and says, hereI am, I love you. If she is lost she will forever remember Gods beautiful response to her that Sunday and know God loved her.

    The world is full of people like Sandy who need Jesus, and right here in our own home land, right in your local town and vicinity. Do we have the vision of Gods love to me personally and let that love motivate me at home?

World wide mission is a great work and we are comissioned to do it but pehaps the greater work is on our door steps. May God give the vision we need while time remains.