God's grace

Butterfly...

2011-03-20T23:40:00.000-07:00

A man found a cocoon of a butterfly. One day a small opening appeared. He sat and watched the butterfly for several hours as it struggled to force its body through that little hole. Then it seemed to stop making any progress. It appeared as if it had gotten as far as it could, and it could go no further.
So the man decided to help the butterfly. He took a pair of scissors and snipped off the remaining bit of the cocoon.
The butterfly then emerged easily. But it had a swollen body and small, shriveled wings.
The man continued to watch the butterfly because he expected that, at any moment, the wings would enlarge and expand to be able to support the body, which would contract in time.
Neither happened! In fact, the butterfly spent the rest of its life crawling around with a swollen body and shriveled wings. It never was able to fly.
What the man, in his kindness and haste, did not understand was that the restricting cocoon and the struggle required for the butterfly to get through the tiny opening were God's way of forcing fluid from the body of the butterfly into its wings so that it would be ready for flight once it achieved its freedom from the cocoon...

Trust

2011-03-20T22:19:00.000-07:00

Cast thy burden upon the LORD, and He shall sustain thee: He shall never suffer the righteous to be moved...

->Psalms 55:22

I will Overcome!

2009-11-07T00:43:00.000-08:00

When the battle I'm fighting brings me to my knees
When I feel alone and stranded and no one seems to see
I won't let this valley steal my faith
It won't have the victory
I'll stand upon the Word of God
I will overcome with Him

I will triumph in the trials, I will glory in the cross
I will stand upon the mountain, walk through the fire untouched
Though the world may rise against me, my strength is in the Lord
I will be an overcomer, for He has overcome the world

Problems may be great, but my God is greater still
So I'll walk out of this valley, and proclaim the Father's will
And when it feels just like the end, He will open up the door
I know that I shall overcome and be much stronger than before.

Flower In The Desert

2009-07-25T05:28:00.000-07:00

This happened many many summers ago.

There was a young flower in the desert where all was dry and sad looking...It was growing by itself...enjoying every day...and saying to the sun "When shall I be grown up"? And the sun would say "Be patient"---Each time I touch you,you grow a little"...And she was so pleased.Because she would have a chance to bring beauty to this corner of sand...And this is all she wanted to do---bring a little bit of beauty to this world.

One day the hunter came by---and stepped on her.---She was going to die---and she felt so sad.Not because she was dying ---but because she would not have a chance to bring a little bit of beauty to this corner of the desert.

The great spirit saw her, and was listening.---Indeed,he said ...She should be living...And he reached down and touched her---and gave her life.

And she grew up to be a beautiful flower...and this corner of the desert became so beautiful because of her.

2009-07-25T05:03:00.000-07:00

1 Peter 3:3-4

Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as braided hair and the wearing of gold jewelry and fine clothes. Instead, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God's sight.

Be content with what you have, for God has said, "Never
will I leave you; never will I forsake you." So say with
confidence, "The Lord is my helper; I will not be afraid."

- Hebrews 13:5,6

The Devil's Beatitudes

2009-05-28T21:29:00.000-07:00

If the Devil were to write his Beatitudes, they would probably go something like this:

Blessed are those who are too tired, too busy, too distracted to spend an hour once a week with their fellow Christians in Church -- they are my best workers.
Blessed are those Christians who wait to be asked and expect to be thanked -- I can use them.
Blessed are the touchy, with a bit of luck they may stop going to church -- they are my missionaries.
Blessed are those who are very religious but get on everyone's nerves -- they are mine forever.
Blessed are the troublemakers -- they shall be called my children.
Blessed are those who have no time to pray -- they are easy prey for me.
Blessed are the gossiper -- for they are my secret agents.
Blessed are those critical of church leadership -- for they shall inherit a place with me in my fate.
Blessed are the complainers -- I'm all ears for them.
Blessed are you when you read this and think it is about other people and not yourself -- I've got you.

* Author unknown.

A Little Girl's Prayer by: Author Unknown, Helen Roseveare

2009-05-26T22:56:00.000-07:00

One night I had worked hard to help a mother in the labor ward; but in spite of all we could do she died leaving us with a tiny premature baby and a crying two-year-old daughter. We would have difficulty keeping the baby alive, as we had no incubator (we had no electricity to run an incubator) and no special feeding facilities.

Although we lived on the equator, nights were often chilly with reacherous drafts. One student midwife went for the box we had for such babies and the cotton wool the baby would be wrapped in. Another went to stoke up the fire and fill a hot water bottle. She came back shortly in distress to tell me that in filling the bottle, it had burst. Rubber perishes easily in tropical climates.

"And it is our last hot water bottle!" she exclaimed.

As in the West it is no good crying over spilled milk, so in Central Africa it might be considered no good crying over burst water bottles. They do not grow on trees, and there are no drugstores down forest pathways.

"All right," I said, "Put the baby as near the fire as you safely can; sleep between the baby and the door to keep it free from drafts. Your job is to keep the baby warm."

The following noon, as I did most days, I went to have prayers with any of the orphanage children who chose to gather with me. I gave the youngsters various suggestions of things to pray about and told them about the tiny baby. I explained our problem about keeping the baby warm enough, mentioning the hot water bottle. The baby could so easily die if it got chills. I also told them of the two-year-old sister, crying because her mother had died.

During the prayer time, one ten-year-old girl, Ruth, prayed with the usual blunt conciseness of our African children. "Please, God," she prayed,"send us a water bottle. It'll be no good tomorrow, God, as the baby'll be dead, so please send it this afternoon." While I gasped inwardly at the audacity of the prayer, she added by way of corollary, "And while You are about it, would You please send a dolly for the little girl so she'll know You really love her?"

As often with children's prayers, I was put on the spot. Could I honestly say, "Amen"? I just did not believe that God could do this. Oh, yes, I know that He can do everything. The Bible says so. But there are limits, aren't there? The only way God could answer this particular prayer would be by sending me a parcel from the homeland. I had been in Africa for almost four years at that time, and I had never, ever received a parcel from home. Anyway, if anyone did send me a parcel, who would put in a hot water bottle? I lived on the equator!

Halfway through the afternoon, while I was teaching in the nurses' training school, a message was sent that there was a car at my front door. By the time I reached home, the car had gone, but there, on the veranda, was a large twenty-two pound parcel! I felt tears pricking my eyes. I could not open the parcel alone, so I sent for the orphanage children.Together we pulled off the string, carefully undoing each knot. We folded the paper, taking care not to tear it unduly. Excitement was mounting. Some thirty or forty pairs of eyes were focused on the large cardboard box.

From the top, I lifted out brightly colored, knitted jerseys. Eyes sparkled as I gave them out. Then there were the knitted bandages for the leprosy patients, and the children looked a little bored. Then came a box of mixed raisins and sultanas - that would make a nice batch of buns for the weekend. Then, as I put my hand in again, I felt the... could it really be? I grasped it and pulled it out - yes! A brand-new, rubber hot water bottle! I cried. I had not asked God to send it; I had not truly believed that He could.

Ruth was in the front row of the children. She rushed forward, crying out, "If God has sent the bottle, He must have sent the dolly, too!"

Rummaging down to the bottom of the box, she pulled out the small, beautifully dressed dolly. Her eyes shone! She had never doubted!

Looking up at me, she asked, "Can I go over with you, Mummy, and give this dolly to that little girl, so she'll know that Jesus really loves her?"

That parcel had been on the way for five whole months! Packed up by my former Sunday school class, whose leader had heard and obeyed God's prompting to send a hot water bottle, even to the equator. And one of the girls had put in a dolly for an African child - five months before - in answer to the believing prayer of a ten-year-old to bring it "that afternoon."

"Before they call, I will answer!"

Isaiah 65:24

when you realise you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody You want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible