A MONUMENTAL SPIRIT

About six years ago, I went to the Poconos for a winter retreat with my church.  It was a small, simple gathering of about forty kids.   

We were not yet teens but slowly coming to realize ourselves as more than just children. 

Since I was new to the church, a few friends of mine gave me a basic overview on the kids of our youth group.  I can still remember a few random faces and the descriptions that went with them: "Oh, that's so-and-so. He's such a pussy; he wet the bed at last year's retreat." or "That's the kid that kicked so-and-so's butt cuz he bothered his sister."   

  
Yet the one that haunts me with such clarity to this day is of a little girl, probably in the third grade at the time.  With uneven locks of greasy hair adorning her mishappen face, she was constantly bombarded with ridicule from the heartless and unsympathetic.  She was born with a physical ailment that affected her coordination and altered her facial features.  It would be almost a daily retreat tradition for us to yell "retard" as she passed by on her  way to the chapel.                              
  
Yet, as the final day of our retreat neared, we all prepared our hearts for the most emotional night...the night in which voices would cry, hands would be  raised, and eyes would flow freely without considering what the person next to you would think the following day. Yet, instead of pouring our hearts out in a scattered groups on the floor as expected, our pastor told us to stay in our seats for a moment.  
                                                            
After about three minutes of composed silence, he said with calm, monotone sincerity, "Who here loves Jesus?"   

Everyone raised their hand; some even shouted small cries of their devotion. 
                                
"Who here really loves Jesus?" he repeated. 
                                
Again, everyone raised their arms, some fists clenched, accompanied by countless amens and hallelujahs. Then, as the silence reentered the room, he slowly produced a seven-inch long,steel stake from behind his back. With eyes of ice, he said,   

"Then those of you that really love Jesus please come to the front of the room...and suffer his fate."

  

A confused and scared silence congested the air of the room.  No one dared make a sound, even a cough, for fear that everyone else may look at him.  It seemed as though everything had been frozen in a heavy fog that engulfed the room. Watches seemed to have stopped.  Eyes ceased to blink.  The only thing that moved was the flowing perspiration as we all waited for something to happen.  The pastor clenched the stake high above his head.   

"Who here is willing to place their hand out for this stake to puncture it?  Who? Who?" 
                                
A small, scraping sound arose from the back row.  It was the sound of a little girl,  whimpering and stumbling, slowly rising from her chair. She broke the expectations of every person that had looked down on her, the retard, the ugly retard, just as Jesus had been resurrected in spite of the Romans' hatred of him.  She bore the weight of everyone's stares and snickers as she limped up the aisle to the front of the room, just as Jesus had arduously carried his cross.  Slowly lifting her ugly head to the pastor, she muttered, "I will."  

                                                              
Tears coursed from the pastor's eyes as he asked her with fervent conviction, 
                                
"Are you willing to pierce your hands for Jesus? Are you?!"

  

Her face was streaked with the rivers of tears, not emotional tears like that of all of ours had been, but spiritual tears flowing from her dull eyes. She  slowly peeled her arms from her sides and lifted them to the man before her.  
                               
"Yes." 

Not much changed the next day.  She  didn't miraculously lose her physical defects.  She was still made fun of...mostly by the kids that weren't at the last night's service.  And I'm sure that if I asked any of the kids that were in that room the final night if they ever made fun of anyone ever again that they would all say yes.  But the fact of the matter is, that occurence will stay with all of us, the teachers, the kids, everyone, for the rest of our lives.  
                                            

And perhaps we should all stop being so judgmental, so ready to accuse or  ridicule or hate, and stop modeling ourselves to be like the Romans.  Because as much as it surprised us all, the only one of us that approached  the pastor with a sincere courage was that "retard, that ugly retard" girl.    

                          

And even though we already know this, do we really always follow it?  Well, that just shows the understanding and love of Jesus, of how much he can allow himself to be spit on and laughed at and still forgive us...just like a  humble, disabled little girl with a monumental spirit....and I hope this girl's courage and sincere faith has affected you and will remind you of  Christ's love as much as it has me.

THE BIRD CAGE

A man was on the side of the road with a large birdcage. 

A boy noticed that the cage was full of birds of many kinds. 

"Where did you get those birds?" he asked. 

"Oh, all over the place," the man replied. "I lure them with crumbs and pretend I'm their friend. Then when they are close, I net them and shove them into my cage."

"And what are you going to do with them now?" 

The man grinned, "I'm going to prod them with sticks, and get them really mad so they fight and kill each other. Those that survive, I will kill. None will escape." 

The boy looked steadily at the man. What made him do such things? He looked into the cruel, hard eyes. Then he looked at the birds, defenseless, without hope. 

"Can I buy those birds?" the boy asked. The man hid a smile, aware that he could be on to a good thing if he played his cards right. 

"Well," he said hesitantly, "The cage is pretty expensive, and I spent a lot of time collecting these birds, I'll tell you what I'll do, I'll let you have the lot, birds, cage and all for ten pounds and that jacket you're wearing."

The boy paused, ten pounds was all he had, and the jacket was new and very special, in fact it was his prized possession. Slowly, he took out the ten pounds and handed it over, then even more slowly he took off his jacket, gave it one last look then handed that over too. 

He received the cage from the man. And then (well, you might have guessed it) he opened the door and let the birds go free. 

--

The Enemy of the world, Satan, was on the side of life's road with a verylarge cage.

The man coming towards him noticed that it was crammed full of people of every kind, young, old, from every race and nation.

"Where did you get these people?" the man asked. 

"Oh, from all over the world," Satan replied. "I lure them with drink, drugs, lust, lies, anger, hate, love of money and all manner of things. I pretend I'm their friend, out to give them a good time, then when I've hooked them, into the cage they go." 

"And what are you going to do with them now?" asked the man. 

Satan grinned. "I'm going to prod them, provoke them, get them to hate and destroy each other; I'll stir up racial hatred, defiance of law and order; I'll make people bored, lonely, dissatisfied, confused and restless. It's easy. People will always listen to what I offer them and          what's better, blame God for the outcome!" 

"And then what?" the man asked. 

"Those who do not destroy themselves, I will destroy. None will escape me." 

The man stepped forward. "Can I buy these people from you?", he asked. 

Satan snarled, "Yes, but it will cost you your life." So Jesus Christ, the Son of God, paid for your release, your freedom from Satan's trap, with His own life, on the cross at Calvary. The door is open, and anyone, whom Satan has deceived and caged, can be set free. 

Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding;In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight || Proverbs 3:5-6

THE PARK BENCH

The park bench was deserted as I sat down to read beneath the long, straggly branches of an old willow tree. Disillusioned by life with good reason to frown, for the world was intent on dragging me down.

And if that weren't enough to ruin my day, A young boy out of breath approached me, all tired from play. He stood right before me with his head tilted down and said with great excitement, "Look what I found!"

In his hand was a flower, and what a pitiful sight, with it's petals all worn, not enough rain, or to little light. Wanting him to take his dead flower and go off to play, I faked a small smile and then shifted away. But instead of retreating he sat next to my side and placed the flower to his nose and declared with overacted surprise, "It sure smells pretty and it's beautiful, too. That's why I picked it; here it's for you."

The weed before me was dying or dead. Not vibrant of colors, orange, yellow or red. But I knew I must take it, or he might never leave. So I reached for the flower, and replied, "Just what I need." But instead of him placing the flower in my hand, he held it mid-air without reason or plan. It was then that I noticed for the very first time that weed-toting boy could not see: he was blind.

I heard my voice quiver, tears shone like the sun as I thanked him for picking the very best one. You're welcome, he smiled, and then ran off to play, unaware of the impact he'd had on my day. I sat there and wondered how he managed to see a self-pitying woman beneath an old willow tree. How did he know of my self-indulged plight?

Perhaps from his heart, he'd been blessed with true sight. Through the eyes of a blind child, at last I could see the problem was not with the world; the problem was me. And for all of those times I myself had been blind, I vowed to see the beauty in life, and appreciate every second that's mine. And then I held that wilted flower up to my nose and breathed in the fragrance of a beautiful rose. And smiled as I watched that young boy, another weed in his hand about to change the life of an unsuspecting old man.

AMAZING GRACE

I was born in 1725 and I died 1807. The only godly influence in my life, as far back as I can remember, was my mother, whom I had for only seven years. When she left my life through death, I was virtually an orphan.

My father remarried, sent me to a strict military school, where the severity of discipline almost broke my back. I couldn't stand it any longer and I left in rebellion at the age of ten. One year later, deciding that I would never enter formal education again, I became a seaman's apprentice, hoping, somehow, to step into my father's trade and learn at least the ability to skillfully navigate a ship.

And, I determined that I would sin to my fill without restraint, now that the righteous lamp of my life had gone out. I did that all my days in the military service and I further rebelled.

My spirit would not break and I became more and more a rebel. Because of a number of things that I disagreed with in the military, I finally deserted, only to be captured like a common criminal and beaten publicly several times. After enduring the punishment, I, again, fled.

I entertained thoughts of suicide on my way to Africa. I decided on Africa because it would be the place where I could get farthest from anyone who knew me. And, again, I made a pact with the devil to live for him.

Somehow, through a process of events, I got in touch with a Portuguese slave trader and I lived in his home. His wife, who was brimming with hostility, took a lot out on me. She beat me and I ate like a dog on the floor of the house. If I refused to do that, she would whip me with a lash.

I fled, penniless, owning only the clothes on my back, to the shoreline of Africa where I built a fire, hoping to attract a ship that was passing by. The skipper thought that I had gold, slaves or ivory to sell and was surprised that I was a skilled navigator. And, it was there that I virtually lived for a long period of time.

I went through all sorts of narrow escapes, with death only a hair's breadth away, on a number of occasions. One time, I opened some crates of rum and got everybody on the crew drunk. The skipper, incensed with my actions, beat me and threw me down below. I lived on stale bread and sour vegetables for an almost unendurable amount of time. He brought me above to beat me again and I fell overboard. Because I couldn't swim, he harpooned me to get me back on the ship. And I lived with the scar in my side, from a wound big enough for me to put my fist into, until the day of my death. On board, I was inflamed with fever and enraged with the humiliation.

A storm broke out and I wound up, again, in the hold of the ship, down among the pumps. To keep the ship afloat, I worked as a servant of the slaves. There, bruised and confused, bleeding and diseased, I was the epitome of the degenerate man. I remembered the words of my mother.

I cried out to God, the only way I knew, calling upon His grace and His mercy to deliver me, and upon His Son to save me. The only glimmer of light I could find was in a crack in the floor above me. I looked up to it and screamed for help.

God heard me.

Thirty-one years passed. I married a childhood sweetheart. I entered the ministry. In every place that I served, rooms had to be added to the building to handle the crowds that came to hear the Gospel that was presented and the story of God's grace in my life.

The tombstone above my head reads, "Born 1725, died 1807. A clerk, once an infidel and libertine, a servant of slaves in Africa, was by the rich mercy of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, preserved, restored, pardoned and appointed to preach the faith he once long labored to destroy."

I decided before my death to put my life's story in verse. And that verse has become a hymn.

My name? John Newton.

The hymn? Amazing Grace.

INSPIRING ELISABETH ELLIOT QUOTES - II

Elisabeth Elliot (née Howard; born December 21, 1926) is a Christian author and speaker. Her first husband, Jim Elliot, was killed in 1956 while attempting to make missionary contact with the Auca (now known as Huaorani) of eastern Ecuador. She later spent two years as a missionary to the tribe members who killed her husband. Returning to the United States after many years in South America, she became widely known as the author of over twenty books and as a speaker in constant demand.

She was born in Belgium, and her family included her missionary parents, four brothers and one sister. Elisabeth's brothers Thomas Howard and David Howard are also authors.

Here’s a collection of quotes attributed to Elisabeth:

Maturity starts with the willingness to give oneself.

It is Christ who is to be exalted, not our feelings. We will know Him by obedience, not by emotions. Our love will be shown by obedience, not by how good we feel about God at a given moment. "And love means following the commands of God." "Do you love Me?" Jesus asked Peter. "Feed My lambs." He was not asking, "How do you feel about Me?" for love is not a feeling. He was asking for action.

I am not a theologian or a scholar, but I am very aware of the fact that pain is necessary to all of us. In my own life, I think I can honestly say that out of the deepest pain has come the strongest conviction of the presence of God and the love of God.

The will of God is never exactly what you expect it to be. It may seem to be much worse, but in the end it's going to be a lot better and a lot bigger.

I have one desire now - to live a life of reckless abandon for the Lord, putting all my energy and strength into it.

Do you often feel like parched ground, unable to produce anything worthwhile? I do. When I am in need of refreshment, it isn't easy to think of the needs of others. But I have found that if, instead of praying for my own comfort and satisfaction, I ask the Lord to enable me to give to others, an amazing thing often happens - I find my own needs wonderfully met. Refreshment comes in ways I would never have thought of, both for others, and then, incidentally, for myself.

There are those who insist that it is a very bad thing to question God. To them, "why?" is a rude question. That depends, I believe, on whether it is an honest search, in faith, for His meaning, or whether it is the challenge of unbelief and rebellion.

Let us beware of rebellion against the Lord. Circumstances are of his choosing, because He wants to bless us, to lead us (even through the wilderness) out of Egypt, that is, out of ourselves. Settle the complaint with God, and it will settle other things. Be offended with God, and you will be offended with everyone who crosses your path.

The Word of God I think of as a straight edge, which shows up our own crookedness. We can't really tell how crooked our thinking is until we line it up with the straight edge of Scripture.

Here lies the tremendous mystery - that God should be all-powerful, yet refuse to coerce. He summons us to cooperation. We are honoured in being given the opportunity to participate in his good deeds. Remember how He asked for help in performing his miracles : Fill the waterpots, stretch out your hand, distribute the loaves.

George Macdonald said, 'If you knew what God knows about death you would clap your listless hands', but instead I find old people in North America just buying this whole youth obsession. I think growing older is a wonderful privilege. I want to learn to glorify God in every stage of my life.

This job has been given to me to do. Therefore, it is a gift. Therefore, it is a privilege. Therefore, it is an offering I may make to God. Therefore, it is to be done gladly, if it is done for Him. Here, not somewhere else, I may learn God's way. In this job, not in some other, God looks for faithfulness.

Does God ask us to do what is beneath us? This question will never trouble us again if we consider the Lord of heaven taking a towel and washing feet.

Silence, as someone has said, is the mother of prayer and the nurse of holy thoughts. Silence cuts down on our sins, doesn't it? We can't be sinning in so many different ways if we are being quiet before God. Silence nourishes patience, charity, discretion.

Work is a blessing. God has so arranged the world that work is necessary, and He gives us hands and strength to do it. The enjoyment of leisure would be nothing if we had only leisure. It is the joy of work well done that enables us to enjoy rest, just as it is the experiences of hunger and thirst that make food and drink such pleasures. - Discipline: The Glad Surrender

One reason we are so harried and hurried is that we make yesterday and tomorrow our business, when all that legitimately concerns us is today. If we really have too much to do, there are some items on the agenda which God did not put there. Let us submit the list to Him and ask Him to indicate which items we must delete. There is always time to do the will of God. If we are too busy to do that, we are too busy.

Our vision is so limited we can hardly imagine a love that does not show itself in protection from suffering.... The love of God did not protect His own Son.... He will not necessarily protect us - not from anything it takes to make us like His Son. A lot of hammering and chiseling and purifying by fire will have to go into the process.

We want to avoid suffering, death, sin, ashes. But we live in a world crushed and broken and torn, a world God Himself visited to redeem. We receive his poured-out life, and being allowed the high privilege of suffering with Him, may then pour ourselves out for others.

If we do anything to further the kingdom of God, we may expect to find what Christ found on that road - abuse, indifference, injustice, misunderstanding, trouble of some kind. Take it. Why not? To that you were called. In Latin America someone who feels sorry for himself is said to look like a donkey in a downpour. If we think of the glorious fact that we are on the same path with Jesus, we might see a rainbow.

To be a follower of the Crucified Christ means, sooner or later, a personal encounter with the cross. And the cross always entails loss.

Either we are adrift in chaos or we are individuals, created, loved, upheld and placed purposefully, exactly where we are. Can you believe that? Can you trust God for that?

Worry is the antithesis of trust. You simply cannot do both. They are mutually exclusive.

INSPIRING ELISABETH ELLIOT QUOTES

Elisabeth Elliot (née Howard; born December 21, 1926) is a Christian author and speaker. Her first husband, Jim Elliot, was killed in 1956 while attempting to make missionary contact with the Auca (now known as Huaorani) of eastern Ecuador. She later spent two years as a missionary to the tribe members who killed her husband. Returning to the United States after many years in South America, she became widely known as the author of over twenty books and as a speaker in constant demand.

She was born in Belgium, and her family included her missionary parents, four brothers and one sister. Elisabeth's brothers Thomas Howard and David Howard are also authors.

Here’s a collection of quotes attributed to Elisabeth:

Where does your security lie? Is God your refuge, your hiding place, your stronghold, your shepherd, your counselor, your friend, your redeemer, your saviour, your guide? If He is, you don't need to search any further for security.

Spiritual strongholds begin with a thought. One thought becomes a consideration. A consideration develops into an attitude, which leads then to action. Action repeated becomes a habit, and a habit establishes a "power base for the enemy," that is, a stronghold.

Supreme authority in both church and home has been divinely vested in the male as the representative of Christ, who is Head of the church. It is in willing submission rather than grudging capitulation that the woman in the church (whether married or single) and the wife in the home find their fulfillment.

The clothes we wear are what people see. Only God can look on the heart. The outward signs are important. They reveal something of what is inside. If charity is there, it will become visible outwardly, but if you have no charitable feelings, you can still obey the command. Put it on as simply and consciously as you put on a coat. You choose it; you pick it up; you put it on. This is what you want to wear.

The fact that I am a woman does not make me a different kind of Christian. But the fact that I am a Christian does make me a different kind of woman.

We may not say that we have the answers. Questions of how to conduct oneself as a Christian, or how to serve as a Christian, must be answered by life itself- the life of the individual in his direct responsible relationship to God.

If my life is surrendered to God, all is well. Let me not grab it back, as though it were in peril in His hand but would be safer in mine!

Discipline, for the Christian, begins with the body. We have only one. It is this body that is the primary material given to us for sacrifice. We cannot give our hearts to God and keep our bodies for ourselves.

We have ample evidence that the Lord is able to guide. The promises cover every imaginable situation. All we need to do is to take the hand he stretches out.

Faith is not an instinct. It certainly is not a feeling - feelings don't help much when you're in the lions' den or hanging on a wooden Cross. Faith is not inferred from the happy way things work. It is an act of will, a choice, based on the unbreakable Word of a God who cannot lie, and who showed us what love and obedience and sacrifice mean, in the person of Jesus Christ.

One way to begin to see how vastly indulgent we usually are is to fast. It is a long day that is not broken by the usual three meals. One finds out what an astonishing amount of time is spent in the planning, purchasing, preparing, eating, and cleaning up of meals.

When ours are interrupted, his are not. His plans are proceeding exactly as scheduled, moving us always (including those minutes or hours or years which seem most useless or wasted or unendurable) "toward the goal of true maturity" (Rom 12:2 JBP).

God is God. Because He is God, He is worthy of my trust and obedience. I will find rest nowhere but in His holy will, a will that is unspeakably beyond my largest notions of what He is up to.

I really don't think ... you are in a bargaining position with God. He is the Master. He is the Commanding Officer. It is not for you to have input. It is simply for you to accept the orders as the orders are given.

The world looks for happiness through self-assertion. The Christian knows that joy is found in self-abandonment. 'If a man will let himself be lost for My sake,' Jesus said, 'he will find his true self.'

Heaven is not here, it's There. If we were given all we wanted here, our hearts would settle for this world rather than the next. God is forever luring us up and away from this one, wooing us to Himself and His still invisible Kingdom, where we will certainly find what we so keenly long for.

Holiness has never been the driving force of the majority. It is, however, mandatory for anyone who wants to enter the kingdom.

Until the will and the affections are brought under the authority of Christ, we have not begun to understand, let alone to accept, His lordship.

We must quit bending the Word to suit our situation. It is we who must be bent to that Word, our necks that must bow under the yoke.

While I disparage the exercise of "building one's self-esteem" I indulge in it every time I imagine myself free from the defects I perceive in someone else.

Experience has taught me that the Shepherd is far more willing to show His sheep the path than the sheep are to follow. He is endlessly merciful, patient, tender, and loving. If we, His stupid and wayward sheep, really want to be led, we will without fail be led. Of that I am sure.

The God who created, names and numbers the stars in the heavens also numbers the stars of my head. He pays attention to very big things and to very small ones. What matters to me matters to Him, and that changes my life.

Let not our longings slay the appetite of our living.

Self-pity is a death that has no resurrection, a sinkhole from which no rescuing hand can drag you because you have chosen to sink.

The one who loves knows better than anyone else how to conduct himself, how to serve the one he loves. Love prescribes an answer in a given situation as no mere rule can do.

God never witholds from His child that which His love and wisdom call good. God's refusals are always merciful- "severe mercies" at times but mercies all the same. God never denies us our hearts desire except to give us something better.

To the world at large this was a sad waste of five young lives. But God has His plan and purpose in all things... The prayers of the widows themselves are for the Aucas. We look forward to the day when these savages will join us in Christian praise. Plans were promptly formulated for continuing the work of the martyrs.

DON'T JUDGE BY LOOKS

A lady in a faded gingham dress and her husband, dressed in a homespun threadbare suit, stepped off the train in Boston, and walked timidly without an appointment into the president's outer office. The secretary could tell in a moment that such backwoods, country hicks had no business at Harvard and probably didn't even deserve to be in Cambridge. She frowned.

"We want to see the president," the man said softly.

"He'll be busy all day," the secretary snapped.

"We'll wait," the lady replied.

For hours, the secretary ignored them, hoping that the couple would finally become discouraged and go away. They didn't. And the secretary grew frustrated and finally decided to disturb the president, even though it was a chore she always regretted to do. "Maybe if they just see you for a few minutes, they'll leave," she told him. And he sighed in exasperation and nodded. Someone of his importance obviously didn't have the time to spend with them, but he detested gingham dresses and homespun suits cluttering up his outer office. The president, stern-faced with dignity, strutted toward the couple.

The lady told him, "We had a son that attended Harvard for one year. He loved Harvard. He was happy here. But about a year ago, he was accidentally killed. And my husband and I would like to erect a memorial to him, somewhere on campus". The president wasn't touched he was shocked.

"Madam," he said gruffly, "we can't put up a statue for every person who attended Harvard and died. If we did, this place would look like a cemetery."

"Oh, no," the lady explained quickly, "we don't want to erect a statue. We thought we would like to give a building to Harvard.

The president rolled his eyes. He glanced at the gingham dress and homespun suit, then exclaimed, "A building! Do you have any earthly idea how much a building costs? We have over seven and a half million dollars in the physical plant at Harvard." For a moment the lady was silent.

The president was pleased. He could get rid of them now.

The lady turned to her husband and said quietly, "Is that all it costs to start a University? Why don't we just start our own?" Her husband nodded. The president's face wilted in confusion and bewilderment.

Mr. and Mrs. Leland Stanford walked away, traveling to Palo Alto, California where they established the University that bears their name, a memorial to a son that Harvard no longer cared about!

Don't judge anything by looks or appearances only.

DOES GOD STILL SPEAK TO US?

A young man had been to Wednesday night Bible Study. The Pastor shared about listening to God and obeying the Lord's voice. The young man couldn't help but wonder, "Does God still speak to people?"

After service he went out with some friends for coffee and pie and discussed the message. Several different ones talked about how God had led them in different ways.

It was about ten o'clock when the young man started driving home. Sitting in his car, he just began to pray, "God.. If you still speak to people, speak to me. I will listen. I will do my best to obey."

As he drove down the main street of his town, he had the strangest thought, to stop and buy a gallon of milk. 

He shook his head and said "God, is that you?" He didn't get a reply and started on home. But again, the thought, buy a gallon of milk. The young man thought about Samuel and how he didn't recognize the voice of God, and how little Samuel ran to Eli. "Okay, God, in case that is you. I will buy the milk." It didn't seem like too hard a test of obedience. He could always use the milk. He stopped and purchased the gallon of milk and started off toward home. As he passed Seventh Street, he again felt the urge, turn down that street. "This is crazy", he thought and drove on past the intersection. Again, he felt that he should turn down Seventh Street.

At the next intersection, he turned back and headed down Seventh. Half jokingly, he said out loud, "Okay, God, I will." He drove several blocks, when suddenly, he felt like he should stop. He pulled over to the curb and looked around. He was in a semi-commercial area of town. It wasn't the best, but it wasn't the worst of either. 

The businesses were closed and most of the houses looked dark like the people were already in bed. Again, he sensed something. "Go and give the milk to the people in the house across the street."

The young man looked at the house. It was dark and it looked like the people were either gone or they were already asleep. He started to open the door and then sat back in the car seat. "Lord, this is insane. Those people are asleep and if I wake them up, they are going to be mad and I will look stupid." Again he felt like he should go and give the milk.

Finally, he opened the door, "Okay God, if this is you, I will go to the door and I will give them the milk. If you want me to look like a crazy person, okay. I want to be obedient. I guess that will count for something but if they don't answer right away, I am out of here." He walked across the street and rang the bell, He could hear some noise inside.

A man's voice yelled out, "Who is it? What do you want?" Then the door opened before the young man could get away. The man was standing there in his jeans and T-shirt.

He looked like he just got out of bed. He had a strange look on his face and he didn't seem too happy to have some stranger standing on his doorstep. "What is it?" The young man thrust out the gallon of milk, "Here, I brought this to you." 

The man took the milk and rushed down a hallway speaking loudly in Spanish. Then from down the hall came a woman carrying the milk toward the kitchen.

The man was following her holding a baby. The baby was crying. The man had tears streaming down his face. The man began speaking half crying, "We were just praying. We had some big bills this month and we ran out of money. We didn't have any milk for our baby. I was just praying and asking God to show me how to get some milk."

His wife in the kitchen yelled out, "I ask him to send an Angel with some. Are you an Angel?" The young man reached into his wallet and pulled out all the money he had on him and put it in the man's hand. 

He turned and walked back toward his car and the tears were streaming down his face. He knew that God still answers prayers.

THE MOST INSPIRING QUOTES

Never let the regrets of yesterday destroy the hopes of tomorrow. God can turn the most hopeless of a situation into the most beautiful dream.

Learn to appreciate what you have, before time forces you to appreciate what you have.

A friend is there before you know it,

To lend a hand before you ask it,

To give love before you need it,

And there you were before I know it!

God graciously directs our paths. The One who placed us on the path is the One who steadies our steps upon it.

God has blessed you with two hands: one for yourself and the other for helping others. Make good use of them || Huithiang

Prayer is not an extra option nor a last resort when all other methods have failed. When man works, man works. But when man prays, God works.

Live without depending,

Love without pretending,

Speak without offending,

Listen without defending,

Give without remembering.

Laughter adds richness, texture and color to otherwise ordinary days. It’s a gift, a choice, a discipline and an art || Tim Hansel

In the busyness of life, find the time to be still, and in the quietness of the moment, listen and heed the voice of your heart || Huithiang

Life is not about how hard you can hit. It’s about how hard you can get hit and get back up || Rocky V

When you get frustrated,

Remind yourself everyone needs compassion,

Everyone needs forgiveness,

And everyone deserves grace!

Be careful of the words you say and keep them soft and sweet for you never know from day to day which ones you have to eat || Unknown

The perils of life often spin webs of pain and confusion resulting in deprivation in your life. God can replenish your life with His power!

If times are hard and you find yourself battling wearily, keep on believing, keep on dreaming, until the times are better and you find yourself smiling again || Huithiang

When life knocks you on your knees, you’re in the perfect position to pray.

What is, is.

What isn’t, isn’t.

You become so obsessed with what isn’t,

That you missed what is || Unknown

The secret of contentment is knowing how to enjoy what you have, and to be able to lose all desire for things beyond your reach.

When God want to smile at us He gives us sunlight.

When He wants to wink He throws out stars.

Moonlight shines when He is hugging us.

Sometimes it would seem what you’ve done for God did not work. But think again, may be it did work. Just not the way that you wanted it to!

Life stops if we stop dreaming.

Love ends if we stop caring.

Hope ends if we stop believing.

Trust in His timing,

Rely on His promises,

Wait on His answers,

Believe in His miracles,

Rejoice in His goodness,

Relax in His care.

God uses weakness to reveal His great sufficiency,

So if we let Him work through us, His power we will see.

We can plant seeds of impatience, fear and frustration, or of love, contentment, and faith. It’s all in the choices we make.

Don’t carry mistakes with you, their weight can crush you. Place them under your feet and use them as stepping stones to build your future || Huithiang

We learn something from everyone who passes through our lives. Some of the lessons are painful, some are painless. But all are priceless….

Sometimes tears are more special than a smile, because a smile is for everyone but tears are for someone special.

Never think of giving up…

If you are willing to try the possible…

God will help you through the impossible.

Keep the faith!

Trials keep you praying,

Failures keep you hoping,

Happiness keeps you smiling,

Love keeps you blooming,

And only God keeps you going.

Do you have a favorite quote? We would love to hear from you. Leave your favorite quote in the comment box along with your name and address. We hope to publish it in the coming days.