THE SUFFERING SERVANT

THE SUFFERING SERVANT and OUR TRIUMPHANT LORD


There can be no rival to the Prophet Isaiah in his depiction of the life and suffering and triumph of Messiah in chapter 53 of his prophecy. With amazing accuracy he draws the picture of Christ and his redemptive work about 800 years before Jesus was born in Bethlehem. What transpired on earth had been determined before the foundation of the world in the divine counsels in heaven.


In the reference to his coming as a tender plant and root out of a dry ground, This may point to his peasant parentage, or else to the depressed and downtrodden condition of the nation at the time of his coming. By no stretch of the imagination could anyone think of our Lord as unattractive. The lack of beauty or comeliness perhaps speaks of the event of his brutal beatings. In chapter 52: 14 is the statement, "his visage was so marred." Surely this must have reference to when he was beaten in the face and his countenance was bespattered with spittle.


We are viewing the most amazing contrast of the ages. He came from the glory - crowned heights of the celestial realms to a dark world of sin and sorrow, to be despised, rejected and crucified as a common criminal. Men today may tell you that they do not despise Jesus, but if they refuse to accept him as Savior, they reject and deny him. Years ago, during the last World War, I was engaged in a revival. While there I was asked to visit a Jewish man who had come from Germany, before Hitler's purge of the Jews. He was distressed because he had received word that all of his relatives had been killed. I urged him to seek salvation, to trust Messiah for salvation. He cried excitedly, "I can't make up my mind." I reminded him, as I have others, that we are making up our mind when we fail or refuse to seek salvation.


This is vividly pictured in the verse, "All we like sheep have gone astray, we have turned every on to his own way; and the Lord hath laid on him the iniquity of us all." In our imagination, we can see him climbing the hill of Calvary, carrying our load of guilt, and there dying to purchase our redemption. Perhaps we are puzzled by the expression in verse 10, "yet it pleased the Lord to bruise him." The word "pleased" comes from a Hebrew root that means "to incline", and perhaps can be rendered "permitted." Jesus did not die against the will of God, for he spoke of "the cup which my Father hath given me to drink." His death was part of the divine and deliberate will. For this purpose he came to earth.


In the last part of chapter 53 we see the triumph that followed travail. From the time Jesus cried "It is finished," It was all glory and victory! Redemption's price was paid. That which was planned before the foundation of the world had come to glorious conclusion. All heaven went into rejoicing, for the King was coming home! "He shall see ... and be satisfied". His perfect divine knowledge could foresee the centuries to come and the million times millions who would be redeemed from all nations and all parts of the world to join in heaven's endless celebrations and glory.


He would be satisfied: He would say, "It was worth it!"

THE GOOD SHEPHERD

When David, the shepherd wrote, "The Lord is my shepherd," he forever gave new meaning to the word Shepherd; and when Jesus states, "I am the good shepherd," He identified and intensified that meaning.

Shepherding is one of man's oldest occupations. There is the close relationship between sheep and the shepherd. Ordinarily, here in the Midwest with fenced pastures, the sheep have an owner but not a shepherd. A traveler from Israel many years ago stated that he had never seen sheep without a shepherd. There he lives with them by day, and at night they are bedded near his tent or hut. When he leads his sheep far away to find pasture, he sleeps on the ground with his flock around him or nearby.

Jesus stated in John 10"3 - 5, "He calleth his own sheep by name, and leadeth them out ... and the sheep follow him: for they know his voice. And a stranger will they not follow, but will flee from him: for they know not the voice of strangers." It has been said by one who was well acquainted with his subject that a stranger may dress up in the shepherd's own garb and call to the sheep, but not one will follow. However he may try to imitate the shepherd's voice, the sheep know it is the voice of a stranger.

I stood on the road to Jericho a short distance east of Jerusalem at the close of day when Bedouin shepherds were bring their sheep home from pasture. These people lived in dark tents made of black goat's hair or skins. There were three men but one flock. Just before reaching our position, one shepherd turned off the road and made a low call I cannot imitate. All of his sheep separated from the flock and followed him. The second shepherd followed this same procedure as they neared us and the sheep of his fold followed him to the other side of the road. The third fellow passed by our position with the remaining sheep. There was not a hitch in the procedure. Every sheep knew what to do.

Surely, this must be a good illustration of what Jesus was teaching in the above lesson from John's gospel. A lesson of nearness, of intimate knowledge and obedience. Jesus not only called his followers sheep, but also his brethren (John 20:17) and his friends (John 15:15).

May the Lord help us to be good listeners and good followers. Our Good Shepherd has gone before us to the Good Pastures. If we obey his voice and follow his teaching, we will go where he has gone!

RUNNING LIFE'S RACE

Our lesson is taken from the first three verses of Hebrews 12.The opening verse speaks of our being surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses. This refers directly to the witnesses of chapter eleven. The number includes far more that those named, as indicated in verse 32 of chapter 11. Back in 1948 I heard an old preacher at Red Rock Camp west of Minneapolis state that these were in heaven looking down and witnessing our progress. However that may be, the message is not about what they are doing now, but what they did by faith while fighting life's battles down here. Note the prominence of the term "by faith" in chapter eleven.


THE WITNESSES

The whole chapter 11 is power packed with the holy history and valiant, victorious record that forms a background for our text. Across the centuries of time this column of Victors marched through trial and opposition on their way to a victor's crown. They are God's worthy witnesses, and they are our kinfolks!

There are other kinds of witnesses. They are the observers. Some are critics who watch our steps as we run life's race. St Paul is talking to us in 1 Cor. 4:9, "... for we are made a spectacle unto the world, and to angels, and to men." He is saying that we are like actors on the stage, and critical observers, men and the world are looking on. They will form opinions about the church and Christianity, and even God Himself as they watch our talk and our walk.

There is another group, our fellow Christians who may take us for their guide or pattern.


THE WEIGHT

It seems likely that the writer of Hebrews was thinking of the Olympic games. Those Greek runners were thinking, planning and preparing all year long for those contests. They must shed or avoid all excess weight. Our country is plagued with obesity. Go to any prospering buffet and take note. Few seem candidates for a contest unless it is an eating contest. But it is not body fat that is the weight in our text. These are spiritual weights. The author names the sin which doth so easily beset, or ensnare us. He is not talking about mere faults or ignorance. He plainly calls it sin.

Known sin disqualifies one for this race. There's and old song that has the refrain, "Sin can never enter there." Security at our airports is tight, and it ought to be. Yet, some get through. The divine searcher of hearts does not err. We who are pastors, or have been, have often been concerned about those under our charge, and have asked, "How are you getting along? Sometimes the reply has been, "I'm not where I ought to be." Well, if we are not where we ought to be spiritually, we are where we ought not to be.


THE WAY

This race we run is not just a sprint. It is a lifelong marathon. It is "set" before us. The course, the rules, the boundaries are all set, predetermined by the Author and Finisher of our faith. It is not like those old Olympian games where there was only one winner, and he was rewarded with a perishable crown or some insignificant thing. We are on the heavenly race course where every contestant can win a crown of everlasting life "that fadeth not away!"

In all of our athletic contests there are rules. You may cross the foul line. To run outside the base lines you will be disqualified. There are penalties assessed; even a manager can be tossed out of the game.

The Holy Bible is a lot more than a rule book, but it is a rule Book! And God says, "Don't mess with my Book! Don't rewrite it. Don't take from it and don't add to it. It's my Book!"

So take heed you Jehovah's Witnesses, Mormons, Muslims, New Agers and all others.

The Way to Heaven is featured in Isa. 35. It is a High way, a Holy way, a Happy way and a Homeward way.

The Witness who is True and Faithful, Rev. 1:5; 3:14

Our people in Jamaica have a favorite chorus: "Jesus, He's a Way maker!" We are urged in verse two to look to Jesus, and in verse three to "Consider Him". He is the only perfect example. We will never go wrong in this troubled complex world if we follow Him!

We are not crowd pleasers. We are concerned about "pleasing Him who hath chosen (us) to be a soldier." II Tim. 2:4. If we look elsewhere to people of the world, even prominent ones, or to family or friends, we can get off track and fail.

We look to Jesus for strength, for salvation and for our Perfect Pattern. He endured the hostility of sinners, of enemies and the hatred of His own nation. In His wilderness temptation, He took the high ground and answered from the Scriptures. His will was completely surrendered to the Father's will. That course led Him to Calvary. There He paid redemptions price for us all!

Follow Jesus, and you will win the race!

TWO BROTHERS - AND SO FAR APART

Isaac D. Samuels was born to Jewish Parents in Paramaribo, Surinam (Dutch Guiana). His mother died when he was two years old, and when he was eleven he was taken by his father to Holland. Here he grew up "alone without anyone to guide me", he relates. As a lad he developed a great love for music and became a master of his favorite instrument, the cello. By the time he was twelve, he was playing music in the taverns.

From age twelve to thirty the life of Isaac Samuels was dominated by a love for wine. He became a drunkard. In 1923 he enlisted in the French Foreign Legion in North Africa. Details are not clear, but his drunkenness had something to do with this involvement. It was not uncommon for the Legion to highjack drunks and when they came to their senses they were on a ship bound for Africa, and conscripted into the Foreign Legion.

In 1930, Samuels was in Paris, France, going from one cafe to another in search of more and better French wine. Suddenly he was arrested by the sound of music. Music was his other love, and he went in search of its source. It was the Salvation Army conducting a street service, but as he arrived the service was closing. but the ones gathered there invited to the Hall where the service would be continued.

The wine was too much for him, and when he settled down comfortably in the meetinghouse, Isaac fell asleep. However, he had been awake long enough to be attracted by the leader's message about Peter who "went out and wept bitterly." When the meeting was over, the Salvation Army officer awakened the sleeper and asked him why he had come. He didn't seem to know, but did want to know more about the story of Peter and why he wept. The officer knew that his questioner was under the influence of alcohol, and the hour was late, but he said, "Dear friend, it is too late to explain to you the story of Peter, but I will give you a little book, and there you will find his story." Isaac took the New Testament and went home.

On the first page of his new book, he came to the name of Jesus. Who was he? As a boy at school his schoolmates had told him, "You Jews, you have killed Jesus Christ." When Isaac asked his father, "Who is Jesus Christ?" he received no answer. So it was all still strange to him, but that Name, he testified, "Brought my whole being under condemnation" and an uncontrolled weeping. Tears made reading difficult and after a time he fell asleep.

Here is further testimony. "The next morning I was not any more the same. I had only one desire, to finish the book and to know more of Him who had done something in me. It was very strange. I had no desire to smoke, no desire to drink, I felt only one desire - namely to read the New Testament. God spoke to me the evening before when I was reading with tears running from my eyes because I saw myself as a very bad man. I had not the courage to lift up the head. I was ashamed of myself. The next morning that was all gone. My heart was full of joy and peace. It was no more I, but it was another PERSON who was living in me." Isaac Samuels had found the Messiah, the Savior.

Samuels became an avid Bible reader and a missionary to the Jewish people, especially n Algeria, North Africa and in Paris. He gave away thousands of Bibles in the French language to Jews in North Africa, and after 1946, continued his ministry in Paris where he walked the streets with a large sign declaring, "The Bible says prepare to meet thy God."

All of the above I learned later from the testomony of Samuels himself.

For some years prior to 1951, I was a reader of a magazine called, "The Jewish Hope." It was the official publication of a Jewish ministry conducted by Dr. A,U. Michaelson. This man had been a successful Jewish lawyer in Germany, and was converted to Christianity. Sometime before World War II, he had come to America to carry on a ministry to the Jews in this country. Each issue of the Jewish Hope carried a picture of Isaac Samuels on the back page along with his Paris address and a statement about his ministry there. In this way I became familiar with his picture. At one time while I was pastoring in Kansas City we had Dr. Michaelson in our church for a service.

In January 1951, I was privileged to go with a tour group to the Holy Land and several other places. This was less than three years after the founding of the State of Israel. One day in Israel our party went by tour bus to Mt. Carmel. During that trip I managed to have a conversation with our tour guide. This Jewish man, because of his job, needed to know a lot about the Bible to explain things to a group of Christian ministers. It concerned me that a man who knew a lot about the Bible and was a guide in the Holy Land did not know Jesus Christ. When I had an opportunity to speak to him in private, I urged him to give his heart and life to Jesus, the promised Messiah.

"But it's awfully hard for a Jew to become a Christian," he replied. "But I have a brother who is a Christian." This man's name was Alexander Samuels.

"Is your brother Isaac Samuels in Paris, France?" I asked.

He almost shouted his reply, "Do you know my brother?"

"No, I have never met him," I replied, "but I expect to be in Paris next week, and I want to find him if I can." It is my understanding that these brothers had been separated from the time they were quite young.

A few days later I was In Paris, but was not able to contact Isaac Samuels. I later learned that he was in Algiers in North Africa at that time.

Some months after my return from the trip I learned that Dr. Paul Rees was to speak to a church in Kansas City. I had met him a few times and always enjoyed hearing him preach. When We reached the church it was already crowded and we were seated near the back of the church. Sometime during the service my attention was drawn to a large bearded man on the far side of the house and a few seats ahead of us. Occasionally I looked his way and wondered where I had seen him, or if, indeed, I had seen him. The only view I had was a side view and at an angle behind him. The service was over and the crowd flowed out and down the steps.Just as I reached the sidewalk, it came to me. I know that fellow! Working my way back up the steps against the crowd and into the building, I found my man.

"Are you Isaac Samuels?"

The curt reply was, "I am."

After a few explanatory remarks, I said to him, "Recently, I saw your brother Alexander in Israel."

Now it was his turn to be surprised, and he cried excitedly, "Do you know my brother?"

I told him how I had become acquainted with his picture, how I had come to meet Alexander, and how I had tried to find him in Paris, We arranged to have him in our home and in our church for a service. Yes, he had his cello and played it for us at church and later at Kansas City College and Bible School where I took him for a service in chapel. He told us how he hoped it would be possible for him to make a trip to Israel and meet his brother whom he had not seen for so very long.

I had secured Alexander's address while in Israel and wrote him a letter urging him to seek Jesus as Savior and assured him of our prayers.

I never did hear any more from or about the Samuels brothers. One can only hope and pray and leave the rest to God.

SUGERY PLANS INTERRUPTED

It's a great advantage to have faith in a God who answers prayer and works miracles. I have never had, or claimed to have, any power to heal; but I do firmly believe in God's Power to heal. This I can say, I have been privileged to be present when healing took place.

I was busy at something, I don't remember just what, when a call came from a nurse at Trinity Hospital. It went something like this: "Brother Holland a young woman on my ward is hemorrhaging badly and is being prepped for surgery. She is very frightened and is unsaved. Come now if you can!"I left at once and found a young mother named Wilma Sutherlin just a described by the nurse. I advised her to be as calm as she could and to trust as we prayed. It was a brief prayer. I simply asked God to save Wilma and to calm her fears and to heal her.

It was as smooth a transition as I ever saw. Her face was radiant, and her faith was strong. Wilma was saved and healed. No need for surgery; no need for anything.

Wilma was the mother of three small children, a little boy named Jan and twins whose names I don't recall. The husband was not interested in church, but for months she and the children were regularly in our church, until a part-time preacher who lived in the same housing complex influenced them to attend his church.

COUNTRY SCHOOL INCIDENT

Well, here's some present history and some not so recent. Here is my confession: I am illiterate, that is, to the world of computers and blogging. I did go to the one room country school and did quite well there, but this modern stuff is for modern people. My son Jim put me up to this. He said, Dad, you are writing all the time, and you have all these stories. Why don't you start a blog?"

I told him plainly that I didn't know what a blog was. It sounded like a bad word to me, and something to be avoided. After several weeks he won out on the deal. I warned my readers, if any, that this would be a mixed variety of my stuff, a sort of smorgasbord. Reminds me of one of our preachers many years ago who said, "I always preach from notes. If I don't have notes, my sermons are without form and without void." Credit him for being pretty right.

Today's story goes back more than 100 years, actually to the generation before mine. However, I knew both the teller of the story and the fellow who was profited by the treatment administered. To those who are late comers to the blog, I confess to being one of the ancient ones, having passed the mile marker 92 last year, and am working my way to the end of the line.

The school involved was named the Lawrence school, and at the time of this story the teacher was Blanche Benson, a muscular lady who meant to teach according to the old rhyme: "Reading, writing and 'rithmatic, taught to the tune of a hickory stick." And in some schools the hickory stick was judged to be of equal importance with the 3 R's.

I have gathered up information about the one-room schools prior to 1900. Some of the terms were short, and some of the contracts were for 4 to 6 months "if the money holds out." The pay per month was usually about $35. When I started teaching, the pay had risen to $50. That was 75 years ago. In the years prior to 1900, there were a good many pupils in grade school who were in their late teens.

Back to the story. A strong young fellow named Robert went afoul of the law somewhere, and teacher Benson called time for a reckoning, "Come up here, Robert!"

"I ain't a goin' to do it, I ain't, I ain't," he replied.

He had thrown down a challenge, and teacher Benson wasted no time in responding. She went after him at once, but he had one disadvantage. She had a felon on one finger. Bone felons they were called, and very painful. In the ensuing tussle, this injured hand suffered further injury. And to add insult to injury, the young man broke her watch chain, and sent her watch flying. In those days, lady teachers had small closed case watches on a small chain around the neck and carried in a pocket in her blouse. Not to be outdone nor turned from her purpose, the teacher enlisted the help of two young men. Now the culprit, knowing that trouble was before him and soon to be behind him, had tied the front of his jacket with strong cord so that it could not be easily removed. No problem. His defense strategy was foiled when strong hands peeled his jacket over his head and had him well encased. The benches in the school at that time were split logs with pegs driven into augured holes to form legs. Mr. Robert was bent over such a bench for such a flogging as his crimes merited. This was what might be termed applied knowledge to the seat of the problem, a part of the educational process of those times. It was the law of the land -"If my boy gets a lickin' at school, I'll give him another when he gets home." I never did think that was fair, providing it was well done the first time.

Some persons now think a whipping at school is too severe, but surely it must be worse in some places. Witness, the following. Nearly sixty years ago I was in Jamaica on business for our mission board. I was asked to contact a fellow who had written to our board about some sort of affiliation with our church work. His Infant school was in Kingston. He said he had about 60 students. I asked him if he was the only teacher. He replied, "Oh no, I has two teachers, but I do all the capital punishment." On the wall behind his desk was a heavy leather belt.

I didn't ask any more questions.

GUS the GREEK

Edward Baumbartner was a close friend of mine and a real vibrant Christian. He was older than I, but was converted about the same time. He became a faithful and consistent witness for Christ and was a successful soul winner. A barber by trade, he carried his profession and tools of his trade into nursing homes and hospitals when he visited there. Many of the men who sere patients there were glad to have a free haircut while Ed Talked to them about the Lord and Salvation. His courteous manner and tender-hearted sympathy, coupled with the knowledge of scripture and human nature, combined to make his ministry effective. Many a cold heart was opened to the gospel.

On one of these visits to a nursing home, Ed was reading to one of his converts from the Book of Romans: "For I am not ashamed of the gospel of Christ: for it is the power of God unto salvation to everyone that believeth; to the Jew first, and also to the Greek." The reading was suddenly interrupted by an excited cry from another man in the room. "What did you say? Read that again! Did you say the Greek?"

Of course, the request was granted. At this the questioner stated emphatically, "That's me! I'm Gus! I'm the Greek!"

Now it so happened that there had been other times when my friend had read the scriptures there and had invited Gus to seek salvation though faith in Jesus, but Gus had one answer, "That's not for me."

This time, however, the reading was from Romans1:16, and right there it was stated that this is for the Greek, and that day Gus the Greek was saved.

Now there were two converts in the same room - Frank Garner and Gus - and they had conversation, prayer and rejoicing together. It was not a long time after his conversion that Gus suffered a stroke and was unable to speak. Then it happened in the dead of night the friend of Gus was awakened by someone calling his name. It was Gus, whose speech was miraculously restored to give one message. Calling the name of his friend, Gus said, "Frank, I'm going to heaven!"

From his bed, Frank answered back, "I'm going to heaven too!"

Right back, Gus said, "I'm going right now."

When a reply brought no answer, the night nurse was called. It was true, Gus was already gone!

THE BELIEVER'S SECURITY

Isaiah was truly a Messianic prophet whose long life spanned the reign of four kings, and possibly five. Tradition has it that he lived until the year of the wicked king Manasseh and that he was martyred. The reference of "sawn asunder" in Heb 11:37 possibly refers to his death.

In chapter 33 of Isaiah's prophecy he declares God's judgment on the "spoiler" Assyria. He celebrates the great deliverance when Sennacherib's army was destroyed and the siege of Jerusalem was lifted.

In verse 14, he makes a statement about the hypocrites in Zion and then asks these penetrating questions: "Who among us shall dwell with the devouring fire? Who among us shall dwell with everlasting burnings?" At first glance, it might seem that the prophet is thinking of eternal punishment. However, the context reveals the opposite. Consider this statement in Deut. 4:24; "For the Lord thy God is a consuming fire." This is repeated in Heb 12:29. And we are reminded of Psalm 24: 3-4: "Who shall ascend into the hill of the Lord? or who shall stand in his holy place?" Then he answers his own question: "He that hath clean hands, and a pure heart." Compare this with Isa. 33:15 and following.

THE DWELLER IN THE HEIGHTS

In verse 16 and 17, we have an outline of the true believer's safe dwelling place.

I His Position or Dwelling Place

Literally, "He shall inhabit heights, that is, He shall have the perpetual
presence of God."

The Christian takes the high ground.

The air is purer, above fog and smog and doubts.

It is a healthier place.

The vision is clearer.

Isa. 35 gives a good outline: It is a high way; a holy way; a healthful
(positive) way; a happy way; a homeward way.

II His Protection or his Defense

Literally, "strongholds of rock shall be his refuge"

See Ps. 18:2 "The Lord is my rock, and my fortress."
A fortress suggests the safety of a well protedted place.

Spiritually, higher our dwelling place, the closer we are to God.

Holiness is "the high calling of God."

III His Provision or His Diet

Bread and water. While this may not sound like abundance,
it represents the basic necessities.

And they are sure. The Hebrew word means certain, dependable.
It is God's guarantee!

IV His Prospect or His Delight

He shall see the King in his beauty.

This is the Messianic King, the Lord Jesus.

This is not the picture of Messiah that we see in Isa 53,

Not Christ upon the cross, but the King of Kings,
universal and eternal, Savior and Sovereign.

The land afar off or "the land of far distances."

Not merely east, west, north and south, as far as eye can see,
but into the eternal kingdom where Christ is Lord of all!


Note: None of my writings are copy protected. If you find anything that is useful to you, Please feel free to use it to the Glory of God.

ROADSIDE REMINDER

The year was 1967, and we were traveling to Arizona where I was to preach for the annual Indian Camp Meeting at Prescott. I had preached there the previous year. The congregation was largely Navaho, Hopi, Mohave and a good company of Piute from Nevada. Altogether we had about 27 different tribes represented. We were looking forward to a good time.

For a bit of change and relaxation we pulled off the highway at a scenic spot at Walnut Canyon near Flagstaff. There on the trail was a post topped by a glass covered case that enclosed this poem by Enos Mills.

Grindstone

If you keep your nose on the grindstone rough,

and keep it down there long enough,

In time you forget there are such things:

As brooks that babble and birds that sing,

And these will all your world compose;

Yourself, the grindstone, and your poor old nose.

Grindstone ... nose - ouch! Something wrong here! One almost reached for his nose to see if it was all there! That verse speaks volumes. Too many of us have been too busy - too busy to stop and smell the flowers, to cultivate friendships, to attend to the most important things. Here's one of those things called a truism. "If you are too busy to pray, you are too busy."

I think I know what "busy" is. Now there are many folk who think that a preacher's life is one easy task - just get up and talk a couple of times a week, visit a few people and eat fried chicken. If you will feel comfortable with a short recital, I'll give you some light on the subject.

I was a pastor on one church in Kansas City for more than 38 years. Life was good, but busy. The pastor is subject to phone calls or door calls 24 hours a day, seven days a week. When the pastor was away, the wife took the calls. In the more than 64 years of our marriage, she never worked outside the home for pay one day. Our church had members in four counties, two in Missouri and two in Kansas. This meant lots of city driving. There were about a dozen major hospitals in this area and that many more in the metropolitan area. Most of our calling was in about half a dozen, but all, I think, were visited at some time. I remember two times a call came from persons I did not know asking for blood transfusions. So I took my wife along to give blood. Her blood was a type match. I called her my portable blood bank. Prior to this, I had been diagnosed with heart trouble and my blood wasn't acceptable.

In later years, after serving as president of Kansas City College and Bible School, I was asked to step up a notch in the administration. While still pastoring, I drove to the college in Overland Park every school day for two years. I was in my office before school opened, and was there when the school day closed. To do this, I cut my sleep time one hour each night. By going to school that long, I got smarter and resigned from the school.

The grindstone is a useful and necessary implement on the farm, especially in the "olden days," but nose and grindstone don't go together! We poor creatures need some time for recreation, for family and for God. The song "Take Time To Be Holy" is appropriate. Maybe it ought to be titled "Make Time." Regular grind might be all right for our coffee, but in daily life we need to be careful, lest it get us down. It's later than we think! Take time for family and for God! It's a great lesson.

Some of us learned too poorly and too late!

INCIDENT AT HORSHOE LAKE

I did not witness this brief amusing drama played out by only two actors. I will always be sorry I missed it. One party, the principal mover, was quite small, but the other, the receiver, was the exact opposite.

I know the exact place where it happened, having vacationed there for several consecutive years. It was at Horseshoe Lake, a few miles south of Richmond, Minnesota. The Sauk River, a small stream at that point, runs right through the lake. Much of the lake is very weedy and offers ideal habitat for sunfish, crappie, bass, northern pike and walleye. Jim Ruegemer, the owner-operator of Riverside Fishing Camp, was the eye-witness to the most interesting event of a rainy day.

For the convenience of himself and his patrons, Jim had constructed a small building near the edge of the lake. The side facing the lake was one large window, screened to keep out the deer flies and some of the mosquitoes. Here were tables and chairs where fishermen could get in out of the rain, or on other occasions play cards or checkers, but most likely to swap stories that had to do with fishing. It was named, appropriately, the Liar's Club. It has never been real clear to me why so many people have the idea that all fishermen are liars. Why, on one occasion, after we had made a very successful fishing trip to Northern Saskatchewan and had returned with abundant pictorial and piscatorial evidence, an acquaintance who was not a fisherman, on seeing pictures of Northern pike in excess of three feet (the pike, not the pictures), exclaimed, "The man that caught those fish is a liar!"

Now back to the story. It was a rainy day, not a hard rain, but the kind of day that is often good for fishing. The camp owner had constructed a long narrow dock that extended out from shore, through dense weeds to deeper water. On this day of intermittent light shower, Mr. Ruegemer was in his shoreline shop when he observed a little boy fishing from the far end of this dock. And he was catching fish. Jim said he didn't know the lad or where he came from. He would catch a fish, place his fishing rod or pole on the dock and bring his catch back to shore where he had located his stringer. Having strung his fish, he hurried back to repeat the process.

This had gone on for some time when Jim noticed that another person had pulled up in a car and sat watching the little fisherman. This woman, a stranger, was a person of very ample proportions. Whether the rain slacked up, or whether the success story playing out before her very eyes proved too much for her, we don't know. Rain or no rain, it was time to fish, and she knew right where there was good fishing. To fish or not to fish was not the question. The question was how to out maneuver the lad, for the fishing pier was so narrow. But necessity being the mother of invention, she struck upon a plan. In haste she took from the trunk of her car her fishing gear and a large sturdy bucket, about a five gallon plastic pail. Waiting until the lad came to the bank to string his latest catch, she crowded past him (actually she was a crowd by herself), advanced to the end of the dock, put down the bucket and sat on it. There was no room left for the former occupant. That point didn't bother her, but it concerned the lad a great lot. She had claimed squatters rights and assumed that her position established the "nine points of the law," for she had lots of squat. At once she began to catch fish. Upon each catch, she would half rise, not moving her feet, and toss her catch into the bucket.

The little fellow who had been evicted attempted to get past her. First on one side and then the other, but all to no avail. There just wasn't room, and her elbows fended him off. The observer in the Liar's Club could see and almost feel the tension building. Something had to give. He almost wished that the offender would fall in the lake! But he did not need to waste time or thought on that matter, for a plan of action was being formed in the young mind of the offended.

A number of sayings and adages, some old and some not yet coined could form a background for the occasion: The bigger they are the harder they fall, or thou shall not throw thy weight around, lest thou become unbalanced and fall, or The mighty shall not oppress the weak, or Who hath despised the day of small things? But none of these or their kind entered the lad's mind. His thought pattern was simple and personal: She has done me wrong, and I don't like it, and I will teach her a great lesson. In addition, I don't like her. He retreated to the shore, placed his fishing gear in a safe place and waited for the optimum moment. It was not long in coming. It came with her next catch. One moment she was perched there like Sitting Bull, The next moment she half rose to toss a hapless bluegill into her bucket, and the next moment it happened. The lad's timing was perfect! He had already begun his rush at the broad obstruction before him. He couldn't possibly miss. She was poised in the exact position for maximum propulsion. Striking her in the rear with all his force, he impelled her forward farther than can be imagined. When she came up with lake weeds around her head and shoulders, she seemed tremendously interested in improving her position. It is not know whether or not she had ever been baptized, but certainly never in such fashion. Certainly she would have preferred sprinkling to immersion. This unceremonious baptism did not seem to be a gladsome experience, nor one desired to be repeated or even witnessed.

Even if she did not know how to swim, it seemed like the thing to do now, and her bulk giving her some amount of buoyancy, she managed to grasp the bracing of the pier and clambered up to safety. As the saying goes, she did not stand on ceremony. Her adversary was nowhere to be seen and she did not look for him. No time was lost in gathering up such possessions as remained. As if all the fiends of the watery deep were after her, and having no desire to longer remain at the scene of such daunting and dampening experiences, she fairly ran to her car, fired up the motor and made a most rapid and inglorious departure down the road.

The little boy reappeared and resumed his fishing as though nothing unusual had ever happened. Of this I am sure, if you could have been near enough you would have heard him chuckle to himself now and then.

There's always a down-side to good stories. Same here. Only one observer and no one to get pictures!

YOU CAN MAKE IT!

Years ago when we were on our first trip to Colorado, we were told, "You must see the Cave of the Winds." So you do what you have to do! We headed up the canyon, but we soon reached a place where the road disappeared! The canyon walls closed in, and there was the end - or so it seemed.

Then we saw a large sign right on the canyon wall where the road seemed to end, announcing in bold letters, "You can make it. Thousands of others have." As we eased forward, we could see that there was a turn in the roadway; then a little farther on, an open stretch before us; and we proceeded on our way without difficulty. When we got far enough along, we saw what we could not see earlier. It's like the Prophet Hosea said, "Then shall we know, if we follow on to know the Lord." Things in this road of life are not always what they seem to be. We must trust the one who makes out our path and believe that when we arrive at the point of need, the help we need will be there.

The sign on the stone was right, and it bears a perpetual message - "You can make it." You can travel any road where God sends you. You can bear any load He places on you. God doesn't make foolish or impossible demands of anyone. His commands and promises are enablements. Blessed is the person who has learned this and loves God enough to put it into practical living. When the angel of the Lord wakened Peter from sleep that night in prison and said, "Follow me," it was the angel's responsibility to open the doors.

You can find encouragement in reading Isaiah chapter 42 and 43, and in noting the many times of positive assertion as the Lord said, "I will." Here are some of them, "I the Lord ... will hold thine hand, and will keep thee ... I will lead them in path that they have not known: I will make darkness light ... and crooked things straight ... I will be with thee ... I will even make a way." Rejoice with me in that! "I will even make a way." Then our Lord Jesus said, " I am the way."

There's no doubt about it! "You can make it, Thousands of others have.

Previously published in the Gems of Truth by Herald and Banner Press, Overland Park, Kansas http://www.heraldandbanner.com/

Faith's Sure Foundations

Special Prayer Request: The Tea Party has requested that Monday, March 15, 2010 be a Day of Prayer for our Nation.


Those who have read the book Hard Times by Charles Dickens may remember that old schoolmaster Mr. Grandgrind whose oft-repeated statement was, "Stick to the fact's!" Well, facts are hard, unrelenting, realistic, important things. And someone has brought this to our attention in a few lines of poetry:

Three men were walking on a wall:

Feeling, Faith, and Fact,

When Feeling got an awful fall

And Faith was taken back;

So close was Faith to Feeling,

He stumbled and fell too;

But Fact remained and pulled Faith back,

And Faith brought Feeling too.

(Author Unknown)

Religion that is devoid of feeling is deficient, but religion that is based on feeling is defective. While feeling - the good kind - is an important factor in true religion, it is not the most reliable or important part. Feelings or impressions can come from many sources, both good and bad. Many arise from happenings or physical conditions. We understand that our human nature, our essential personalities, is departmentalized in intellect, sensibility, and will. These fluctuating emotions of ours must be subjected to the departments of reason and will. This feeling we have, is it reasonable, moral or right? Hebrews 11:1 has been rephrased to state, "Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see."

Faith is founded on fact. We resort to the old schoolmaster's dictum" "Stick to the facts!" A few from the many are:

"I am the Lord, I change not" (Mal 3:6)

"Jesus Christ the same yesterday ... today ... forever" (Heb. 13:8)

"Nevertheless the foundation of God standeth sure, having this seal, The Lord knoweth them that are his" (Tim. 2:19)

"Heaven and earth shall pass away, but my words shall not pass away" (Matt. 24:35)

"Low, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world" (Matt. 28:20)

"I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee" (Heb. 14:19)

"And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again, and receive you unto myself; that where I am, that ye may be also" (John 13:3)

The Word of God is filled with the statements of His eternity, His unlimited power, His infinite love; of Jesus' atoning death, His purifying blood, His saving grace, His resurrection, His ascending to the Father; of His return for His saints, His everlasting kingdom.

If you will stick to the facts, the imperishable Word of God, God will lay a foundation the devil cannot undermine, a hedge he cannot penetrate, and a wall he cannot climb over!

Previously published in the Gems of Truth by Herald and Banner Press, Overland Park, Kansas http://www.heraldandbanner.com/

Psalm 133

Psalm 133 is a gem of artistic beauty. In three verses it gives us a picture reflecting the harmony of a church that is united in love. Or it can apply to a group as small as a family or as large as a community. We consider it mainly as depicting a church that is worshiping and fellowshipping in unity. To some of us it is reminiscent of those old camp meetings days more than seventy years ago - great crowds gathering from all across the country - great singing, joyful testimony to victory, anointed preaching. It was like a foretaste of heaven!

And yet, the word "dwell" suggests a more permanent association. Our dwelling is not a place we visit, but the place where we live. The persons named here are brethren, or brothers, the sons of one Father: and the term is generic to include the sisters. An oft repeated quote from a Christian brother in Jamaica was, " We are all one man's children." We have this confirmed in Eph. 3:15, "of whom the whole family in heaven and earth are named." We have the picture of a church family regularly dwelling, associating and worshiping in a togetherness of unity!

This is the same picture that Paul shows us in I Cor. 12 where he illustrates the oneness of the human body, many parts of wide variety, yet one body. And this is what Jesus prays for in John 17. There He prays for the sanctification of His Church, "that they all may be one," even as He and the Father are one.

We refer back to the opening word of the Psalm: "Behold." It's like saying, "Hey! Look at this! How good this is - a church that lives and works in harmony!" And then the Psalmist gives this comment. It is both good and pleasant. We all know of things that are good for us, but not pleasant: and of things pleasant, but not good. Harmony rules out sour notes and discord; and unity forbids church wars and divisions.

The Psalmist names two things that are like this unity among brethren. The first is this: "It is like the precious ointment upon the head, that ran down upon the beard, even Aaron's beard: that went down to the skirts of his garments." The composition of this holy anointing oil is given in Exodus chapter thirty. The ingredients are: pure myrrh, sweet cinnamon, sweet calamus, cassia and olive oil. The amounts of each are specific. This holy anointing oil was for the exclusive use in anointing the priests and the instruments in the tabernacle. To make any like it or to use it for any other purpose was strictly prohibited by law. The oil was holy in that it was ordained of God and used only for sacred purposes. It reminds us of times of God's outpoured blessing upon his people who know the harmony of spiritual fellowship. The anointing oil flowed from above and was abundant in its supply. It announced its presence by its pleasing fragrance. There is nothing like it! It cannot be duplicated or counterfeited!

It is divine.The second comparison is represented as "the dew of Hermon, and as the dew that descended upon the mountains of Zion!" Mt. Hermon is almost 10,000 feet high. In summer time the place below the mount becomes quite warm. The warm air rises to meet the colder layer around the snow capped heights. Then God's automatic scientific law of nature take over, and in the silence of the night the dew settles in refreshing, fructifying abundance. It is not contrived nor crafted by the hand of man. There is no jagged lightning nor crashing thunder. It is just there!

There is just one final thing: "For there the Lord commanded the blessing, even life for evermore." There! Where? Upon the mountain of Zion? No. But upon that place, or that people who dwell together in unity! It is just naturally arranged in the divine order of things that whenever the condition of harmony exists, God says, "Put my blessing THERE! And Jesus gave this promise, "Where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them."

This is not something worked up, but something that is prayed down! The spirit of God comes where He is welcomed and feels at home. As the old - Timers said, " This is just a little heaven to go to heaven in."

Special Prayer Request: The Tea Party has requested that Monday, March 15, 2010 be a Day of Prayer for our Nation.

LOOKING FORWARD

I want to stay alive as long as I live. It is important that we who are Christians maintain our witness and experience to the end of our days. The Psalmist gives us a promise: "They shall still bring forth fruit in old age..." Ps. 92:14. Of course we understand that many in aging lose physical strength, mobility and mental acuity. Even so, if we are alert and able, there are still windows and doors of opportunity.

Years ago I read of Walter Jans who retired at age 67 and moved from Ohio to California where he joined Faith Community Church in Garden Grove. In one year's time he made almost 4,500 calls, plus 1,500 incompleted calls. In addition, he made calls on both new and old members of the church. Pretty active retirement!

I knew a lady in Kansas City who was in her eighties, but got more children to Sunday School than anyone else in her church. While she had no way of conveyance, she collected them on street corners for pick up by the church bus.

John Eliot was a pioneer missionary to the American Indians. He translated the Bible into the Algonquin Tongue; and also prepared a grammar and catechism and assisted in preparation of the famous Bay Psalm Book. On the day he died in 1690 he was found teaching the alphabet to an Indian child at his bedside. He was 86 years old.

"Why not rest from your long labors?" a friend demanded. "Because," answered Eliot, "I have asked God to make me useful in my sphere, and He has heard my prayer; for now that I can no longer preach, he leaves me strength to teach this poor child his alphabet."

Here is John Ciardi's poem on ....

CROWS

The old crow is getting slow.

The young crow is not.

Of what the young crow does not know,

The old crow knows a lot.

At knowing things, the old crow

Is still the young crow's master.

What does the slow old crow not know?

How to go faster.

The young crow flies above, below,

And rings around the slow old crow.

What does the fast young crow not know?

Where to go.

Maybe, just maybe, we old birds can find a place of service somewhere.

Good Advice: Watch Your Step

The following is extracted from The Memoirs of Robert E. Lee by Gen. A. L. Long: "When George Washington Custis Lee, the eldest of the seven children of General Robert E. Lee, was a very little child, his father took him for a walk one winter's day in the snow, holding him by the hand. Soon the boy dropped behind. Looking over his shoulder, the father saw the little boy imitating his every movement. with head and shoulders erect, putting his little feet exactly in his father's footprints. "When I saw this," said the general, "I said to myself, It behooves me to walk very straight, when this fellow is already following in my tracks.

"It must have been quite a stretch for the short legs of a child, but the little fellow was making a manful effort to duplicate exactly the steps of the father. The story carries a powerful and perpetual message. It teaching is practical, moral, and biblical. Others are following the path we take; they are walking in our steps. It is impossible to calculate the total effect and influence of one's life. Even when we are least aware of it, someone is following a pattern we have set. Like seeds of the thistle in a high wind, it is impossible to call them back, and no one knows where they will land and take root.

So, we can call this: GOOD ADVICE: WATCH YOUR STEP! It is a message not only for parents and grandparents, but for all Christians - for everybody. The Bible has quite a lot of teaching on this line. "Make straight paths for your feet ... Turn not to the right hand nor the left" (Prov. 4:26 - 27).

Paul went to great length in his epistles to impress upon the Christian the need to show consideration for the conscience of the weaker brother. One wrong move, one questionable practice, or one prejudiced or uncharitable remark may be all it takes to turn someone out of the way.

And still more from the Holly Word - "Christ also suffered for us, leaving us an example, that ye should follow his steps" (I Peter 2:21). And we are to walk "even as he walked" (I John 2:6).

Previously published in the Gems of Truth by Herald and Banner Press, Overland Park, Kansas http://www.heraldandbanner.com/

Quandary

This week the oldest minister of our church connection died. Guess who is now the oldest! You ask me how old I am? I can't tell you. You may be a better judge of that than I am. Yes, of course, I can tell you the number of the years. It's not so important how old I am, but how I am old. I may have tunnel vision, but there is light at the end of the tunnel! Though the outlook is dark, the uplook is bright.

There is an old saying that everyone wants to live long, but no one wants to be old. Seneca said, "Old age is an incurable disease." He's wrong! Consider another author - Joubert - He says, "The evening of life brings with it its lamps."

When you are nearing home after a long absence, the nearer you get, the higher the joy and anticipation.

Anyway, I have written a poem for you.

Quandary

"Old age ain't for sissies," I've often been told,
So I've tried all the harder to never grow old.
And "Old age will kill you," I've heard others say,
But it's work of a lifetime to keep aging away.

It's troubled my night, and It's troubled my day,
So I turned to the experts to hear what they say.

With muscles in tone, keep physically fit,
From health regulations don't vary a bit.
Do push-ups a plenty; from table push back,
Avoid fats and sugar; of calories keep track.

But even the experts don't always agree,
For they've got the same problem, in person, you see.

So I've studied and searched to solve out this riddle,
But I'm still losing hair and got thick in the middle.
And while I'm bewildered, my thoughts in a maze,
like a flash came the answer -
KEEP HAVING BIRTHDAYS!

I've Got To Give It Up

The day was drawing to its close on the ranch in one of our western states as my friend and I were driving some cattle to the corral by the weathered barn. It was nearing sundown for the old rancher. History had been written here. Across the ranch was the still-discernible course of the Oregon Trail and the ruts made by the wheels of thousands of wagons. But more recent history had been written in toil and hardship, and part of that was etched in the lines upon his weathered face and engraved in his memory.

He, and his young wife, had come west in the early part of this century, full of hope and determination, to "prove up" on a homestead in sparsely settled, wide-open, unfenced ranch country. Together, they had wrenched a living from the land, traded for a larger ranch, and still another - upgrading and moving on. In those many years they had also reared a large family of sons and daughters, all taught in the school of close discipline and hard work. Now, for years, all these were long gone from the family fireside, where married and "on their own."

There was more than a trace of sadness in the conversation as we walked toward the corral. He was saying, "I've worked hard all my life" - and I knew it was so, and his gnarled hands bore silent testimony. He continued, "Now I have flocks and herds and the ranch I wanted. I have good water rights on Wagon Hound Creek. I've worked a lifetime to get it all, but I can't take care of it any longer. I've got give it up."

And so it was. The end wasn't far away, and later when I conducted his funeral, I saw in all this a parable of life - not only his life, but yours and mine. We labor for a lifetime to gather a few things about us, and we call them ours, and then comes sunset, and we leave them all. We are, and ought to be, thankful for life's conveniences and comforts. We appreciate pleasant surroundings and feel an attachment to the place where we call home. Yet all of this is temporary, They are not the true riches. We are not owners, but stewards or custodians for a brief while. All earthly possessions are only "things."

Proverbs 23:5 states that matter in plain perspective, " For riches certainly make themselves wings; they fly away as an eagle toward heaven." As recorded in John 6:27, Jesus gives us sound advice, "Labor not for the meat which perisheth, but for that meat which endureth unto everlasting life, which the Son of man shall give unto you.

" Previously published in the Gems of Truth by Herald and Banner Press,
Overland Park, Kansas http://www.heraldandbanner.com/

Pastorsl Undertakings:

The FirstFunerals are never easy things, but are a necessary part of a preacher's work. My first one was not exactly a typical one. Just recently married, we were setting up housekeeping when a brother of mine appeared. Rather abruptly he asked, "Jake, can you preach a funeral?" I told him that I could, thinking I would have a day or two to prepare. "When is this to be?" I inquired.

"Just as soon as you can get down to Old Salem," he replied.Old Salem was a graveyard where long ago in 1818, my great, great grandfather had organized and built, as far as we know, the first Protestant church west of the Mississippi river in what was the Louisiana Territory and later to be the state of Missouri.

After hasty preparations, I grabbed my Bible and drove about fourteen miles to the burying grounds. There were the grave diggers and a few of the relatives of the deceased standing by an open grave. There was no undertaker present. The body had been brought from the adjoining county. A younger brother of mine and I sang a hymn, and I did my ministerial duty. The outline of that whole occasion is stamped on my memory, but the sermon outline, if there was one, is totally forgotten. After all, that was seventy years ago.

The Run-away Casket

Some years and many funerals later, I was called to go to a hospital in Leavenworth, Kansas where a young man was finishing his last night on earth. I had never met him before. The funeral was in an almost forgotten village in southwestern Missouri. Apparently the dreary church was the most forgotten part of the village. The floor was of plain splintery boards and everything else indicated disuse. My wife and I and her sister were to provide the music. So I had to make a few trips from the pulpit to the old piano for the singing. If this musical instrument had ever been tuned, it was not in recent years.

For the viewing, I stepped down and stood at the head of the casket. This was not only proper, but also fortunate, for the last two viewers, the father of the deceased and the father's brother were somewhat unsteady on their feet. They were roughly dressed and rough in appearance and evidently had been imbibing something stronger than coffee or tea. No doubt this was to fortify them for this solemn occasion. Approaching the casket, the father muttered, "I'm gonna' kiss him," and the uncle said that same thing. Having delivered themselves of this declaration, they leaned, or lurched against the casket which resolved to go somewhere else. By being positioned where I was I was able to check the runaway casket. If it had struck the low platform that served as a pulpit it would no doubt dumped its contents on the floor.

Of the hundreds of funerals I have been involved in, I will relate one more, and this of a very different ending. This service was in another state quite a distance from my place of residence and ministry. The deceased was a saintly old lady whom I had known for many years. Earlier she had been involved in missionary work mostly in the homeland, and for many years had, with another younger preacher lady, been involved in the pastoral work. Years prior to this, I had been the evangelist for eighteen days in a tent revival where these two ladies had been the musicians, singers and children's workers.

The deceased had no near family members except an elderly disabled sister who was unable to attend. So the chief mourner was this preacher lady who had so long been her co-laborer. This person was seated alone on the front seat. Off to my right was a group of about sixteen ministers. I was reading my scripture, "Our Savior Jesus Christ, who hath abolished death, and hath brought life and immortality to light through the gospel..."

To everyone's surprise, the chief mourner on the front seat let out a shout, and waving her handkerchief set of a chain reaction among that bunch of preachers. The speaker had to either join the pack or take a back seat in the glory storm. The air was electric with victory. A soldier of the cross had left a world of trouble and sorrow and had entered glory and everlasting rest.

The remainder of the service was easy. The audience was in sympathy with the proceedings. The only uneasy persons were the two Catholic undertakers. I think they glanced at the door a few times just to see if there was still a way to safety. They bravely stood their ground and did their duty.

On the way to the cemetery someone said, "I wonder what those Catholic undertakers thought." My reply was, "Who cares what they thought? They've got the rest of the day to figure it out."

Jim and Emuel, #2

Jim was a tie-maker. That is, he hewed ties to sell to the railroad. He could "sight" a log and with his broadaxes "hew to the line." On day in his per-conversion life, he met my father on the street near the Callaway Bank. He presented a problem. He knew of a good stand of timber that was good for railroad tie-making, but there was a problem. It would take the sum of many hundreds of dollars, up front, before he could make the contract. With a co-signer on his note at the bank, things were soon set in order, and Emuel was on his way to the woods with his one-man saw and his broad axe and a profitable venture ahead of him. After his conversion, a good part of his income for some time went to make restitution for old out-standing debts. Let me emphasize one point. Here are two men, among others, whom we knew personally, who lived out the rest of their days in honor and respectability, without any relapse into the old life.

Before I leave this part of our narrative, let me give you another part of the story. One Sunday morning at the close of service at the church on Second Street, Jim Day approached me as I was coming down from the pulpit and addressed me, "Brother Isham, me and Emuel and Jim Salmons are going out in the country to have a prayer meeting, and we want you to go with us." That was before I was married, so I had no one to consult but myself, but there was the difficulty of a prior engagement.

"Well, I'd be glad to go with you." I replied, "but Dorothy Goodman has gotten married, and we are all invited to go out to Paul and Betty Goodman's for a wedding dinner."

"Oh," Jim replied. "We won't need no dinner, and I got a jug of water. We're going out to the place where the sheriff, Charlie Bishop, shot me down," and he repeated, "We're going to have a prayer Meeting." Well, the die was cast. I would go. Sometimes you have to sort out your priorities on short notice. It was expected that I, as the parson, would be in the line at the wedding feast, but here were three fellows, all saved from drink and devilment who had a jug of water and were on the way to a prayer meeting in the woods on a very hot day.

Jim had the use of an older model open, "touring car" that belonged to a Mrs. Cain who lived out south of Fulton. I do not know whether he had ever owned a car, but he sure wasn't the fellow you would want to hire as a chauffeur. We struck out through the woods into an area where I had never been, and at one time came to a ditch that was spanned not by a bridge, but by some heavy, but narrow, timbers laid lengthways across the ditch. Good thing we weren't driving a team and wagon or we would never have gotten across! Finally, we got to our destination. The old house has gone, but the barn was still standing.

As we walked out through the weeds and buckbrush, our guide selected a spot about fifty yards from the barn and near the brush and said, "It was right about here where I fell when the sheriff shot me down. I'd been dogging the law for a long time, but that morning early I went out to the barn, and Charlie Bishop was hiding in the barn waiting for me. When I saw him, I turned to run and he fired one warning shot into the air. Then the second shot brought me down right here. If I could have got about two more jumps, I'd have been under cover of the trees and brush.

"Gradually, I learned more of the story. During prohibition years Jim had his own private business going by making the forbidden liquid that always found a ready market. Twice he had made a successful jail break to return to his chosen enterprise. Now, all those reckless years were past, and a new man, forgiven by God and by man of a lawless and sinful yesterday, was traveling the road of upright living, and had brought the three of us to help him celebrate. We knelt on the chosen spot in a circle and Jim read from his Bible, the ninth chapter of Acts, of the conversion of Saul of Tarsus on the Damascus road. Then we all took turns as we prayed around the circle.

This done, our guide said, "Now I'll show you where I had my still." So we followed his lead into the woods. I supposed that our destination was only a short distance away. Wrong. We went on and on through brush and briars, over "hill and holler," and came to a place in the side of a hill where Jim pointed to a spot, not very scenic, and said, "it was right there." Formerly, there had been a place dug out in the hillside. With poles and limb and dirt to cover it over, it had formed a sort of cave. Now it was all fallen in.

The former proprietor of the place had fired his still with pole wood, shoving the length into the fire pit as the ends burned. One trouble had developed from this method. One night as the weary workman lay sleeping on the ground before his fire. the flames burned out along the timbers, and before the sleeper aroused, he had suffered painful burns.

"I carried in sugar by the hundred pounds, and carried out the product in gallon jugs" we were told.

What a way to make a living! But now that was all a thing of the past, but our journey wasn't over. Back over the same course we made our way through sticks and brambles, over fences, across gullies to our vehicle, hot tired and dusty.

Remember, I had come straight from a Sunday morning church service and I had on my best suit-my only suit, in fact. On our return trip by way of a different woods road, the car "high-centered" on a tree stump in the middle of our path. With a minimum of difficulty we got free and returned to town in time for the evening preaching service. As the old hillbilly said, we had been a "fur piece", quite a distance, and we showed it all over.

However, the service was good and meaningful to us. I is wonderful to be engaged in a business that has good benefits. When you can have some part in doing a rescue work that gets people out of the mire of sinful living and up and out on the solid rock of victorious Christian experience, you know that your labor is not lost.

The Story of Jim and Emuel

When I tell my story of these two brothers, I am conscious that I am walking a tight line, for there are still living relatives of theirs who are my close friends. This is one of those judgments we make in telling a story, and if I violate the rules of propriety, I am sorry. Maybe I can find an excuse in the New Testament where the Apostle Paul related his own bad and misguided behavior before his dramatic Damascus Road conversion, and then told all through his writings how marvelous were the changes in his life after he met Jesus.

During World War I, Jim Day expressed a definite preference for the wide-open spaces of Wyoming and Montana instead of the trenches in France. Sometime later, his brother Emuel followed the same course. All this was new and strange to the brothers and quite different from the Fulton, MO. streets. There were vast open areas where thousands of sheep roamed. I remember Emuel tell in of his experiences. He had never herded any sheep; now he had thousands to herd. He told the rancher of his problem and asked how he would know what to do. The answer was, "The sheep dogs will show you." And I guess they did.

Before World War II, I met , in a very casual way, both of the Day brothers, but on separate occasions, in or near the old courthouse which stood where our present courthouse stands. On both these occasions, these men were "lit up" -a common experience - from some liquids they found in bottles. Jim kept repeating a story; "There was an old mother possum and thirteen little baby possums, and the old mother possum was dead." This little woodland tragedy had made a mighty impression on him, and saddened him greatly.

Emuels' story was different. There was some kind of circus or animal show down on Gee Show Lot. It was the elephant that got the attention of our hero. He said, "I'm going down there and ride that elephant. I'm going to ride him with spurs on. He's not going where he say go, but where I say go, and I'm going to shoot holes through his ears." I did not do a follow-up on this story to learn how the ambitious experiment with the pachyderm turned out.

Now, we turn to the good news. About four years after my conversion, I was called to preach at Fulton, Missouri. One Sunday evening at the close of the service, an invitation was given to those who desired prayer to come forward. Who should come forward but Jim Day! None of us had ever seen him in church before, and here he stood before the altar, twisting his cap around his finger. We could perhaps excuse him for having a little nervous feeling, this being such a novel experience. The young preacher was also nervous. I asked, "Mr. Day, did you come here to pray?" And the answer, "I thought I would." We also thought he did, for in a brief while he rose from prayer, with a smile like the sun breaking through the clouds. He gave good, clear, happy testimony to being saved - a new man in Christ. He was a happy Christian, and his Covenant with God lasted to the end of his days.

What does a fellow do when he really gets saved from his sins? Why, he wants to share the good news with others. He began to testify to his own deliverance and to pray for those who have not found forgiveness and saving grace. Jim prayed for his brother.

In the month of May the following year, the church pitched a large tent on the East school grounds, near the spot where Auto Zone store now stands. Brother C. E. Cowen was the preacher for this meeting. To secure the tent and its contents from vandalism it was thought wise to get someone for a watchman, and it was Jim Day who was deputized for this responsibility. He was now know by city and county officers to be a trusted and dependable person. The new man in Christ had become a trusted man in society!

On Sunday morning his brother Emuel appeared at the tent meeting, and at the close of the sermon came to the altar of prayer, and, of all things, he knelt facing the congregation with head thrown back and eyes wide-open, began to pray - really in earnest. He hadn't been coached by those who felt you could approach God in one way only. Anyway, his method worked. He stood to his feet with a personal knowledge of the text, "If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness." Thereafter, there was no man more faithful to the house of God than this brother. He was not only faithful, but was ever forward to witness to his old companions of the change that the saving grace of God makes in a person's life.

In my last post I mentioned my start as a rural school teacher right out of high school in 1935. That was right in the heart of the great depression. For teachers, the first requirement was that one must have graduated from high school and passed the state teacher's examination and obtained a certificate to teach. So, in my senior year, I took the required exams for a Third grade certificate. On being told that if I took an exam on extra subjects I could get a second grade certificate, I did that also and got my certificate in short order.

Soon after graduation, I went in search of a school to teach and was accepted at my first application. So at the ripe old age of seventeen, I set out to be an instructor of youth, grades one through eight. The round trip from my home to the school was roughly fifteen miles, and roughly also describes the route, for the roads were of dirt or mud, as the case may be, and there was no bridge over Logan Creek.

Fortunately, I had an offer from a farmer in a neighboring community. He had a young filly that had never been ridden. If I would break the a steed to ride, I could have the use of it for the school term. And so it was. I had two options, go by horseback or by "shank's mare." (by foot) Travel costs were not by miles per gallon, but by oats and hay. And I should tell you, I had extra income in addition to my $50 per month. I was the school janitor also which netted me twelve and a half cents per day. Sounds better as $2.50 per month.

After teaching for two terms I enrolled at the University of Missouri. In the next year I began preaching full time at Fulton, Mo. and kept up this double schedule throughout my time at M.U. When I started preaching many ministers were not paid a salary, but what was called the free-will offering plan. A lot of the time there was a lot more free will than offering. I would like to tell you about one experience I had during our general camp time. I had become slightly acquainted with a brother from another state who was known to be a person of great wealth. He desired a conference with me and drew me aside to a quiet place where no one else would be in on this very serious conference. There he told me of his great interest in young preachers and his desire to help them financially. You can imagine my thoughts! In retrospect, I can relate it to the title of a book by Charles Dickens called "Great Expectations." He very slowly and carefully drew out his bill-fold and extracted a one dollar bill. Thus ended the awful suspense!

In my first pastoral experience we had a good number of conversions. My first baptismal service was on the Auxvasse Creek. The candidates lining the creek bank made an impressive picture. There were ten of them from one family. I had tested the water depth and had picked my spot. In baptizing adults I prefer water about chest deep. It is easier that way. Baptizing the men folk went right well. Baptizing the ladies, and there were several, was a bit different. Two of them were of rather ample proportions and difficult to put clear under. It was of primary importance that we not be crowded into the deep water. It occurred to me that it was somewhat like pushing under an inner tube from a large tractor tire. When you push down one part, another comes up. But with good fortune and good management, all turned out well. It was truly a beautiful and memorable occasion.

Prayer Request:

Pray for the installation services of Delbert Scott as the eleventh President of the KCCBS on March 6th.

From a Pastors Study

Good Morning or Good Day - whichever is appropriate! I have been down a long road and now in the ninety third year of my journey my son Jim has persuaded me to enter a new venture. So from the salt-shaker of life's experiences I will try to draw out some of the things I have experienced, or have learned, or have been interested in.

First of all, a word about our heading. I am a pastor, or used to be, having begun full time ministry in 1938, but now in advanced age and not often in the pulpit ministry. I describe my present ministerial status as being somewhat like that of an old horse turned out to pasture. Actually, my last pastorate ended in 1993. Years ago I wrote for our church paper under the heading "Meditations From A Pastor's Study." Our present plan is to post or discuss a variety of things ministerial - a sort of smorgasbord of things hopefully interesting, informative and sometimes personal, but also meditative, scriptural and doctrinal.

The churches I have pastored are Fulton, Moberly, Bynumville, Kansas City and Kirksville, all in Missouri. I was associated with the Kansas City College and Bible School in one way or another from 1943 to 2009. For more than fifty consecutive years I served on our world missions board. So I have preached to Cree Indians in Saskatchewan, several camp meetings in Arizona to Hopi, Navaho. Apache and more than twenty other tribes, to Christians and natives of Mexico and to Aymara and Quechua Indians in Bolivia. This ministry also has taken me from the Cayman Islands and Jamaica eastward to Haiti and the American and British Virgin Islands and Anguilla in the Caribbean. My work has taken me to Nigeria and Liberia on the African continent. All of this time I was pastoring in the Show Me State of Missouri.

Early in life I taught three terms in the one-room schools of Callaway County. The school year was eight months. That was where I got into high finance, earning $400 for the first term. Then not long afterward, I taught in a certain Bible School for nine months and was paid the total of $270! I was reminded of the fellow in the Bible who sent his laborers to work in his vineyard with the promise, " Whatsoever is right, I will give you." But the experience was worth something! All I had to do was to teach college classes, serve as dean, and handle a few other chores. Fortunately, I was pastoring all the while and had a little extra income.

Through life I have enjoyed brief stints of hunting and fishing, but the catch of my life was, after four years of courtship, mostly by mail, being married to Carol Yocum, the best wife and companion a man could have, for over sixty four years. She graduated ahead of me to the Better Country in 2004. Our two sons are Jim and Phil.

All of my ministerial life has been spent with the Church of God (Holiness). My conversion was in the rural church at Reform, Missouri. As far as we know, it is the oldest church of this connection that has been in continuous operation since its founding. A close second would be the church at Cuba, Alabama. These churches have their background in the old Methodist Church founded by John Wesley and his contemporaries.