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by Margaret W. Eggleston
Just outside the gate of a little Japanese town stood the shrine of the goddess Kishibojin. Every morning for many months, a young girl came to the shrine and bowed before it in earnest prayer. Sometimes she poured cold water over her body as she prayed. At other times she cut off strands of her hair and offered them to the idol. Tomi Kagata was determined to have the answer to her prayer, and she tried in every way she knew to make Kishibojin hear her. Still her prayer was not answered.
Each day, after Tomi’s prayer was over, she worked hard at a factory. Then, in the evening, she went home to care for her ailing father and two small brothers. Tomi was always tired, even in the morning when she went to pray.
Things had not always been so hard. Although Tomi’s mother was dead, her kind father and loving elder brother had taken good care of the home. Then disaster struck. First, her father became ill. At about the same time, Tomi’s brother, Matsui, began to drink. One day he struck a policeman. To avoid paying a large fine, he ran away from home. Now it was up to Tomi to provide for the family.
Showing posts with label Stories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Stories. Show all posts
Thirty-three Cents
by Minon Auda Hiebert
I clutched the paper and stared. Thirty-three cents! My senior year of academy was only half over, and my account carried a credit of just 33¢.
Father was ill, and Mother could never manage to help me from her meager earnings. When I had arrived in September with my savings of $200, I had hoped that I could work off my expenses. But my wages were low, and expenses were high. Now I had just 33¢ for the rest of the year!
Puff's Choice
as told by C. Roscoe Swan
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| Art: Heidi Reinecke |
I paused for a moment on the narrow trail and gazed at the rugged California landscape. What a beautiful place to hike!
Suddenly the silence was shattered by the distant roar of motorcycle engines. I listened for a moment. They were getting closer. Someone else had decided to take advantage of this beautiful day in the mountains.
I glanced around. “Puff! Where are you, girl?”
Immediately I heard doggy feet pattering toward me. My Australian shepherd raced up, bouncing and wagging from head to tail. We surely had named her right when we registered her as “Blue Puff Tempest”! I reached down and petted her fluffy blue merle coat. She had so much energy—like a tempest in a teapot!
Uneasy Conscience
by Christina Boyd Evert
It started as a great day. With my homework completed, I actually looked forward to my first period class—sixth-grade science. The class was about to start when I felt a tap on my shoulder.
“Hey Christina, did you do your social studies homework?”
“Yup.” I grinned at my classmate, Michael.
“Could I see it?” he asked.
“Why?”
“Well, I didn’t quite finish. Please, could I use it for just a second?” Michael’s voice had a desperate tone to it.
“But Michael, that’s cheating!” I frowned.
“Oh, come on,” he urged. “I promise we won’t get caught.”
Unrealistic Choice
by Anne Connue
The congregation at a little country church had just sung a few hymns. Now they watched as their well-beloved pastor stood up and took his customary place behind the pulpit.
After an opening prayer, the pastor announced, “For prayer meeting tonight I have a special treat for you. One of my dearest childhood friends is in the audience, and I want you to meet him. In fact, I’ve asked him to share something with you. I’ve encouraged him to say whatever is on his heart.”
The pastor sat down as an elderly man stepped forward and greeted the audience with a smile. “We all like stories,” he began, “and tonight I have a story for you that particularly touches my heart. It involves a father, his son, and the son’s young friend.”
The man’s eyes held a faraway look, as if he were seeing things that no one else could view.
Their Treasure
by Margaret W. Eggleston
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| Art: Heidi Reinecke |
“Are you ready, dear?” A woman’s anxious voice pierced the stillness of the little Armenian church.
A weary-eyed man smiled soberly at his wife, standing restlessly in the doorway. “Yes, darling, I am ready, except for—”
“Except for what?” The woman shifted a fat-cheeked baby onto her hip and glanced down at the wide-eyed toddler clutching her skirts. “The Turks could be here at any moment. They must not find the children. Hurry!”
The man picked up a large Bible. “It’s just that I feel I can’t go without this Book. It’s the greatest treasure in the village. How could I—the church deacon—leave it for enemy forces to destroy?”
“But look at it!” his wife sputtered. “How can we carry such a thing? It must weigh as much as a baby—or a week’s supply of grain.”
Dissatisfied Robin
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| by Danielle Gerber |
Like an alarm clock, the rhythmic thud roused me in the early morning. What could it be? As I rubbed my eyes, I remembered: that stubborn robin was at it again!
Springtime had brought the flowers and songbirds back—and among them a certain strong-willed robin. He had been perching outside my window on the edge of the grapevines growing up the fence, watching for rival robins. Catching a reflection of himself in my window, the robin flew toward it and rammed into the glass over and over again. Of course, no matter how hard he tried, he never could get that other bird to go away.
Bethany's Revolution
by Lora Clement
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| Art by Heidi Reinecke |
"I’ve made a revolution!” Bethany Ross stationed herself in the middle of the living room to make her announcement.
“A revolution?” her brother Jared teased. “Isn’t it a little odd to start a revolution on New Year’s Day?”
Bethany tossed her head. “No, it’s the best day! I made a revolution to read my Bible every single day this whole year, and never miss once!”
“That’s a good resolution, little sister,” Ingrid smiled.
“But there’s more to my revolution than just reading the Bible,” Bethany continued. “I’m going to study the words I don’t understand. And I’m going to learn a Bible verse every day!”
Jared whistled.
Ellie's Christmas Prayer
by Ruth Scott
The sun hung low in the western sky as two weary prospectors plodded down a narrow, snowy road. Already the clouds resting on the craggy mountain peaks glowed pink and gold, and soon shadows darkened the travelers’ path.
“I reckon it’s at least five miles more to a settlement, Jim.” Bill Brand thrust his walking stick into the snow. “No way can we make it before dark, and I’m tired enough to flop right here in the snow for the night.”
Jim Fry snorted. “I’m for movin’ on, Bill, till we come to the first shack. Must be one not far around this next bend. Why should two lucky gold panners sleep out in the cold—and on the night before Christmas Eve, no less?” Jim lengthened his stride, and Bill huffed to catch up with him.
The sun hung low in the western sky as two weary prospectors plodded down a narrow, snowy road. Already the clouds resting on the craggy mountain peaks glowed pink and gold, and soon shadows darkened the travelers’ path.
“I reckon it’s at least five miles more to a settlement, Jim.” Bill Brand thrust his walking stick into the snow. “No way can we make it before dark, and I’m tired enough to flop right here in the snow for the night.”
Jim Fry snorted. “I’m for movin’ on, Bill, till we come to the first shack. Must be one not far around this next bend. Why should two lucky gold panners sleep out in the cold—and on the night before Christmas Eve, no less?” Jim lengthened his stride, and Bill huffed to catch up with him.
Memorization Club, Part 3: Your Own Club
by Sylvia Evert
So you’ve decided to start a Bible memorization club. You’ve set a goal, begun to get organized, and prayed for God’s blessing. Now you just need some members—and a plan to keep them enthusiastic and involved.
So you’ve decided to start a Bible memorization club. You’ve set a goal, begun to get organized, and prayed for God’s blessing. Now you just need some members—and a plan to keep them enthusiastic and involved.
In Touch
Dear Young Disciples,
The words looking back at me told of love sought and won, and even though I knew it wasn’t pure, the story drew me in. Soon hours had passed. I felt defiled, but I didn’t stop: Other stories I found on the web soon allured me.
Fiction’s hold on me deepened as I began reading full-length novels. The more I read, the more unclean I felt, but the escape from reality enticed me more than my desire to do right. I didn’t try to stop.
One year later, my imaginary world collided with reality. I began teaching a junior class, starting with lessons on Steps to Christ. That’s when I discovered that I didn’t have a personal knowledge of God—the very thing I was trying to teach. Desperately, I began studying my Bible. As I learned of Christ, I found that true satisfaction comes only through Him. I determined that fiction would no longer control me.
Stopping wasn’t easy. Each day I tried and failed. I took steps to make the websites harder to access, but still I found myself there often. As I grew discouraged with my efforts, God began to teach me that victory is possible only through His strength. As I believed and claimed His power, temptation’s hold lessened.
Although it took years, fiction’s addiction no longer controls me. His power keeps me. I still must guard my heart and choose to obey, for I’m still sometimes tempted—but as long as I am connected to Him, I am sheltered under His wings. He is faithful. He keeps me true.
Seeking Him alone,
The words looking back at me told of love sought and won, and even though I knew it wasn’t pure, the story drew me in. Soon hours had passed. I felt defiled, but I didn’t stop: Other stories I found on the web soon allured me.
Fiction’s hold on me deepened as I began reading full-length novels. The more I read, the more unclean I felt, but the escape from reality enticed me more than my desire to do right. I didn’t try to stop.
One year later, my imaginary world collided with reality. I began teaching a junior class, starting with lessons on Steps to Christ. That’s when I discovered that I didn’t have a personal knowledge of God—the very thing I was trying to teach. Desperately, I began studying my Bible. As I learned of Christ, I found that true satisfaction comes only through Him. I determined that fiction would no longer control me.
Stopping wasn’t easy. Each day I tried and failed. I took steps to make the websites harder to access, but still I found myself there often. As I grew discouraged with my efforts, God began to teach me that victory is possible only through His strength. As I believed and claimed His power, temptation’s hold lessened.
Although it took years, fiction’s addiction no longer controls me. His power keeps me. I still must guard my heart and choose to obey, for I’m still sometimes tempted—but as long as I am connected to Him, I am sheltered under His wings. He is faithful. He keeps me true.
Seeking Him alone,
In Touch
Dear Young Disciples,
I had my misgivings about climbing up into the small attic, although two of my friends already sat aloft. The boys had made it look easy, and now Alyssa wanted to attempt it. But I had a skirt on, and there wasn’t even a ladder. I doubted the climb would be simple.
“Here.” James reached down. “Alyssa, you grab my hand; and Heidi, you lift her up.”
In a moment, Alyssa peered at me from her perch in the attic. “Wow! That was awesome!”
James grinned. “Now it’s Heidi’s turn!”
“No way,” I argued. “I’m too heavy for you and I can’t climb up there myself.” I grabbed the edge of the attic floor overhead and lifted myself a short distance before dropping back to the ground. “See? I can’t do it.”
“Let me help you.” James reached for my hand. With a great heave, he pulled me up into the attic. I could hardly believe he’d lifted me so far!
That experience reminds me of the many times I have come up against obstacles that look impossible to surmount. Too often, instead of admitting I can’t do it and asking for help, I grit my teeth and try to force my way in.
When I try to conquer difficulties on my own, I always fail. However, when I admit my need and ask for help, my heavenly Friend reaches down and lifts me up to Himself. In His strength, I can conquer every obstacle preventing me from consistent victory.
How silly I would be to refuse His power!
Your friend,
“Here.” James reached down. “Alyssa, you grab my hand; and Heidi, you lift her up.”
In a moment, Alyssa peered at me from her perch in the attic. “Wow! That was awesome!”
James grinned. “Now it’s Heidi’s turn!”
“No way,” I argued. “I’m too heavy for you and I can’t climb up there myself.” I grabbed the edge of the attic floor overhead and lifted myself a short distance before dropping back to the ground. “See? I can’t do it.”
“Let me help you.” James reached for my hand. With a great heave, he pulled me up into the attic. I could hardly believe he’d lifted me so far!
That experience reminds me of the many times I have come up against obstacles that look impossible to surmount. Too often, instead of admitting I can’t do it and asking for help, I grit my teeth and try to force my way in.
When I try to conquer difficulties on my own, I always fail. However, when I admit my need and ask for help, my heavenly Friend reaches down and lifts me up to Himself. In His strength, I can conquer every obstacle preventing me from consistent victory.
How silly I would be to refuse His power!
Your friend,
In Touch
Dear Young Disciples,
Moonlight streamed from a star-studded sky, reflecting on the lake in a rippling golden band. Above the shining water, silhouetted mountains loomed large against the sky. In the quiet splendor, my friends and I eased a canoe into the lake. Only the dipping of our paddles broke the stillness, and soon we put these away and just floated on the glassy surface. I had never experienced a more silent, peaceful moment. The calm seemed to ooze right into my heart.
Then, from the shore, a loon began to sing. As its high, clear call rang through the air, it echoed off the mountains on the far side of the lake. Another loon replied, and the two sang a sublime duet.
I had heard loons before, but I’d never fully appreciated the richness of their tone, the awesomeness of their song. The silence of the night somehow made the music more melodic.
We’ve all heard the Holy Spirit speaking—through preachers, conscience, nature, and the Word. Too often, however, we don’t take time to shut out every other noise and hear Him speak to us intimately. Content with the ordinary, we miss out on His extraordinary guidance. We don’t allow His words to fill our minds, and His plans to override ours.
Receiving the Spirit’s filling takes surrender and prayer. It means shelving our own habits, thoughts, and feelings, and turning our backs on the world. Then, in our silence and emptiness, His sweet voice rings out—and we find that His presence and guidance are worth everything!
Following Him,
Moonlight streamed from a star-studded sky, reflecting on the lake in a rippling golden band. Above the shining water, silhouetted mountains loomed large against the sky. In the quiet splendor, my friends and I eased a canoe into the lake. Only the dipping of our paddles broke the stillness, and soon we put these away and just floated on the glassy surface. I had never experienced a more silent, peaceful moment. The calm seemed to ooze right into my heart.
Then, from the shore, a loon began to sing. As its high, clear call rang through the air, it echoed off the mountains on the far side of the lake. Another loon replied, and the two sang a sublime duet.
I had heard loons before, but I’d never fully appreciated the richness of their tone, the awesomeness of their song. The silence of the night somehow made the music more melodic.
We’ve all heard the Holy Spirit speaking—through preachers, conscience, nature, and the Word. Too often, however, we don’t take time to shut out every other noise and hear Him speak to us intimately. Content with the ordinary, we miss out on His extraordinary guidance. We don’t allow His words to fill our minds, and His plans to override ours.
Receiving the Spirit’s filling takes surrender and prayer. It means shelving our own habits, thoughts, and feelings, and turning our backs on the world. Then, in our silence and emptiness, His sweet voice rings out—and we find that His presence and guidance are worth everything!
Following Him,
The Throne Room
An allegory by Walter O. Edwards
A lonely pilgrim with wounded hands and feet and a bleeding side stood before a bolted door. The stranger had come a long way, from the distant court of his father, who was a great king.
The prince knew that behind the door was a throne room which his father had prepared for him. However, the keeper of the throne room had foolishly opened the door to the prince’s deadly enemy. This brute had pushed aside the keeper, cast down and destroyed all the beautiful furnishings, and seated himself on the throne. Meanwhile, the poor keeper hardly even resisted. Instead, he seemed amazed by the brilliance and power of his new master.
A lonely pilgrim with wounded hands and feet and a bleeding side stood before a bolted door. The stranger had come a long way, from the distant court of his father, who was a great king.
The prince knew that behind the door was a throne room which his father had prepared for him. However, the keeper of the throne room had foolishly opened the door to the prince’s deadly enemy. This brute had pushed aside the keeper, cast down and destroyed all the beautiful furnishings, and seated himself on the throne. Meanwhile, the poor keeper hardly even resisted. Instead, he seemed amazed by the brilliance and power of his new master.
Prayer of Surrender
Dear Father,
Here I am again, halting between two opinions.1 Please, let me wrestle through this one more time.2 I know we talked about this just last night; but, please, I need to reason this through with You again.3 Is Your way really the best?
Logan's Guest
by Mary Alberta Benson
Mother stood at the bottom of the stairs and called upward. “Logan, wake up! It’s almost time for breakfast.” She hurried into the kitchen and began setting the table.
“I want to help!” Three-year-old Emily tugged at Mother’s skirt.
Mother smiled down at her little girl. “Thank you, sweetie pie! Will you run and ask Daddy to make sure Logan is out of bed?”
A few minutes later, Father and Emily knocked at Logan’s door. “Wise an’ shine!” Emily chirped.
Father opened the door. “Up and at it, son, or we’ll be late for church.”
Logan groaned and shoved back his covers. “All right, all right. Just a minute.”
When Logan dropped into his place at the table several minutes later, the family bowed their heads. “Our Father, we thank You for this Sabbath,” Father prayed. “We ask You to dwell in our hearts and home today, and also to bless this food. In Jesus’ name, Amen.”
Logan didn’t say a word all through breakfast. He dawdled on his last few bites as Mother cleared the dishes. “You’d better hurry and get dressed, Logan. I hope you made your bed already.”
Logan made a face, then pushed his chair back and thudded up to his room.
Mother sighed. “Lord, please keep working with Logan,” she whispered. “He could be a good boy if he wanted to be.”
Kitchen helper
Logan was quiet all the way back from church. When the family reached home, Logan hurried up to his room without a word. But soon he appeared, smiling, in the kitchen. “How can I help, Mother?”
Mother paused from tossing the salad. “Well, you could set the table,” she smiled.
Logan had just finished laying out the silverware when Mother brought out the bread and salad. “Very nice job, Logan!” Mother’s eyes circled the table and then rested on her son. “Even the napkins are folded just right!”
Logan beamed.
After dinner, Logan sprang from his seat. “I’ll clear the table, everyone. You go get ready for a Sabbath walk.”
Father and Mother raised their eyebrows at each other before they slipped away, leaving the cleanup to Logan. When Mother walked by the kitchen a few minutes later, Logan was talking softly as he stacked the dishes in the sink. She poked her head around the corner. “Is Emily in here?”
“No, she isn’t.” Logan blushed. “I was talking to—er—somebody else.”
“Oh?”
“It’s OK, Mother.” Logan grinned.
Puzzled parents
The next morning, Logan got up as soon as Mother called. After some quiet time, he hurried to the kitchen to help with breakfast. He and Mother chatted as they set out the meal. At breakfast, Logan helped Emily fix her plate, and he passed things to Mother and Father even before they asked.
After helping to clear the table, Logan went to his room—but his low murmur drifted down to the kitchen where Mother was washing dishes.
Mother dried her hands and found Father at his desk. “What do you think has gotten into Logan?”
“What do you mean?” Father looked up at Mother.
“He’s suddenly helpful, and neat, and timely!”
“Well, good for him!” Father smiled.
“Yes, but—do you think everything is OK? I’ve heard him talking to himself twice now.”
“Well, he seems to be eating like a boy, as usual,” Father chuckled. “And he’s been pleasant to be around, right?”
Mother smiled and nodded.
“I say, enjoy it.” Father slipped his arm around Mother’s waist. “Maybe our prayers are being answered.”
Spotless room
After Logan left for school the next morning, Mother went into his room to collect his laundry. When she opened the door, she drew in her breath in amazement. The bedspread was smooth and even, and the desk was tidy and organized. Mother opened the closet. She shook her head to see a neat row of shirts and pants, with Logan’s shoes lined up across the back. She opened the dresser drawers. Everything was folded and in order.
I wonder if Logan will be just as different at school. She closed the bedroom door.
Test on the playground
As Logan approached the school building, he stopped for a moment and bowed his head. “Now,” he said, “I have to be careful. You stay close, Sir.”
That morning, Logan paid full attention during class. When the teacher called for the class to be quiet, Logan was the first to settle down. When recess time came, he joined the line and quietly filed out. As he stepped out the door, he let out a sigh. “Whew! That was hard work, Sir.”
“Hey, let’s play dare base!” Ryan started drawing the baselines in their class’s section of the playground.
“Great idea,” Logan agreed. “I’ll draw the lines for the other side!”
Just then, one of the girls stepped forward. “Can’t you guys play something else?” she complained. “You’re taking up the whole area.”
Logan leaned over to begin making the lines. Then, suddenly, he straightened. “Hey, guys,” he suggested, “let’s play in the other direction, so that the girls can have half the space.”
“No way! We want the whole thing!” one of the boys shouted.
“Yeah, who do you think you are, anyway?” Ryan punched his fist into his palm and strutted over to Logan.
“I’ll show you—” Logan stopped and grinned. “Aw, you know who I am. Anyway, the other direction would work just as well. See, the bases would be right there and over there.” He pointed. “Let’s be fair!”
The boys grumbled a little, but soon they were enjoying a good game of dare base on their half of the playground, while the girls played on the other side.
When the whistle blew to end recess, Logan wiped his forehead. “What a narrow escape,” he whispered. “Thanks for reminding me, Sir.”
Homework helper
That evening after supper, Logan slipped up to his room and pulled out his schoolbooks and notepad. “It’s nice of You to ask me to do this, so Mother and Father don’t have to nag.” He smiled and began his math lesson.
In less than half an hour, Logan had finished his assignment. Right then, Mother called to him. “Logan, you need to do your homework.”
“It’s all done, Mother,” Logan called back. “Thanks to You, Sir,” he added quietly.
Special guest
Just after Logan went to bed that night, Mother peeked into his room. Logan was still awake. “Won’t you tell me what all of this is about?” she asked.
“Can’t you guess?” Logan grinned in the dark.
“No dear, I haven’t been able to guess, but I do like it.” Mother knelt by Logan’s bed.
“Well, Mother, you know how we sometimes pray for Jesus to live in our hearts and home? We studied about that in Sabbath School. I started wondering how I would act if He came here and stayed with us for a while. So I tried it.”
“That’s wonderful!” Mother exclaimed. “But why have you been talking to yourself so much?”
Logan hesitated. “I suppose it sounds silly, but I thought if I could see Jesus going with me everywhere I go, I would probably talk to Him—so that’s what I’ve been doing. I thought He’d like to have a clean room to stay in, so I cleaned my room up for Him. And since He is my special guest, I’ve been trying to do the things that He likes, to make Him happy.”
Mother kissed Logan’s forehead. “What a lovely experiment! Have you enjoyed it?”
“I sure have! I’ve been much happier than when I did whatever I felt like doing.” Logan stared at the moon shining in his window. “I found out something,” he told Mother. “Jesus gives my life meaning. Tonight I told Him that He doesn’t have to be a guest anymore—He can make His home right with me all the time.”
“I’m sure He’ll be delighted to stay.” Mother smoothed Logan’s blankets. “And you can tell Him that Father and I are glad to have Him here, too.” Mother stood up. “Good night, dear.”
“Good night, Mother,” Logan called as she closed the door. He smiled and spoke more softly. “Good night, Jesus. I’m glad You've come to stay.”
In Touch
Dear Young Disciples,
It isn’t the kind of question I would ask. It seems rather nosy, and even a little absurd. Yet someone who apparently didn’t worry about such things actually asked it. He was talking to a mother who had 13 children. He must have assumed that a parent of so many children would naturally have favorites, because he asked, “Which of your children do you love the most?”
She gave a beautiful answer: “The one who is sick, until he gets well; and the one who is away, until he returns!”
That’s a mother’s love for you. We mothers love every one of our kids as much as it is possible to love! But when they’re hurting, or if they’re away from home, we somehow love them even a little bit more!
A mother’s love gives us just a little glimmer of how much God cares about us. In fact, He loves us more than we can ever comprehend. And should we ever stray from Him, afflicted with the terrible sickness of sin, He loves us even harder!
When we find ourselves far from God, the enemy tells us that we’ve gone too far or done too much for God to ever accept us again. But God, who never lies, says something quite different: “Can a woman forget her sucking child, that she should not have compassion on the son of her womb? yea, they may forget, yet will I not forget thee” (Isaiah 49:15).
Don’t linger in the shadows. Step into the arms of the One who loves you more than any other!
Your friend,
It isn’t the kind of question I would ask. It seems rather nosy, and even a little absurd. Yet someone who apparently didn’t worry about such things actually asked it. He was talking to a mother who had 13 children. He must have assumed that a parent of so many children would naturally have favorites, because he asked, “Which of your children do you love the most?”
She gave a beautiful answer: “The one who is sick, until he gets well; and the one who is away, until he returns!”
That’s a mother’s love for you. We mothers love every one of our kids as much as it is possible to love! But when they’re hurting, or if they’re away from home, we somehow love them even a little bit more!
A mother’s love gives us just a little glimmer of how much God cares about us. In fact, He loves us more than we can ever comprehend. And should we ever stray from Him, afflicted with the terrible sickness of sin, He loves us even harder!
When we find ourselves far from God, the enemy tells us that we’ve gone too far or done too much for God to ever accept us again. But God, who never lies, says something quite different: “Can a woman forget her sucking child, that she should not have compassion on the son of her womb? yea, they may forget, yet will I not forget thee” (Isaiah 49:15).
Don’t linger in the shadows. Step into the arms of the One who loves you more than any other!
Your friend,
Midnight Confession
by R.A. Torrey
The members of the board looked at me in amazement. “Do you mean to tell us,” one man finally choked out, “that you want us to end our financial support of your project? That you don’t want our financial backing for your family, or even for the missionaries you employ?”
The knob on the board member’s throat worked up and down in a peculiar fashion as he spoke. “Are you saying that you plan to continue your work without a salary, without an allowance, without taking up any collections, and without asking for money in any way?”
Hometown Preacher
by Nicole Crosier Parker
Pastor Edward Phillips leaned down to pluck a handful of daisies along the side of the road. “Sister Schlade loves flowers,” he told the spotted hound that loped beside him. “These ought to make a bright spot in her kitchen.”
Soon he turned up a narrow path leading to a weathered cabin on the hillside.
“Well, look who’s here!” A tanned, pleasant-faced woman straightened from weeding a row of cabbage plants. “What brings you here today, pastor?” She smoothed her hair with dirt-stained hands. “At last I can introduce you to my Peter!”
“That’s the main reason I am here.” The pastor looked past the woman to the young man striding toward the house. “And is this Peter?”
“I guess that’s me.” The young man smiled self-consciously and slipped his arm around his mother’s shoulders.
Power Within
by Arthur T. Pierson
Thousands live above 12,000 feet in the Andes of South America, and mountain peaks soar as high as 22,000 feet. In such a place, it took quite an effort to lay train tracks. But at last the day came when an engineer drove the first locomotive up through the mountains of Bolivia.* Native Bolivians from all across the mountainsides heard of the great engine and traveled many miles to see it.
One group of Indians came all the way from the Amazon basin to see the strange sight. Finding the engine stationary on the tracks, they sat back on their haunches and discussed what this monster could be. “It is made to go,” one observed. Another said, “Let us make it go.” They got out their ropes and hooked them onto various parts of the engine, and then about 30 men began to pull. With several great heaves, they managed to move the locomotive six yards. Standing back to see what they had done, they exclaimed, “Ay-ay-ay-ay Tatai Tatito! The great and little father has given us power to do a wonderful thing!”
The next day, the engineer shoveled coal into the firebox. Hitching two cattle cars onto the engine, he invited the Amazon Indians to step inside. Then, opening the regulator, the engineer let steam into the cylinder, which began to move the piston and the wheels of the locomotive. The Indians shouted with surprise to be carried along at ten miles an hour, instead of slowly dragging the engine themselves!
Steam engines, of course, were not made to be pulled by human power. Instead, the power to propel them comes from a fire within. The same can be said of effectual, fervent prayer. We don’t move Heaven by working up human zeal; instead, God moves us by placing the Holy Spirit within. Then, as we pray, the Spirit helps our human frailty, giving us divine earnestness to pray for things that match God’s will. With the power of the Spirit within, we can know that the Father hears us and will grant our petitions!
*About a century ago.
From The Missionary Review, Volume 30, 1907.
Thousands live above 12,000 feet in the Andes of South America, and mountain peaks soar as high as 22,000 feet. In such a place, it took quite an effort to lay train tracks. But at last the day came when an engineer drove the first locomotive up through the mountains of Bolivia.* Native Bolivians from all across the mountainsides heard of the great engine and traveled many miles to see it.
One group of Indians came all the way from the Amazon basin to see the strange sight. Finding the engine stationary on the tracks, they sat back on their haunches and discussed what this monster could be. “It is made to go,” one observed. Another said, “Let us make it go.” They got out their ropes and hooked them onto various parts of the engine, and then about 30 men began to pull. With several great heaves, they managed to move the locomotive six yards. Standing back to see what they had done, they exclaimed, “Ay-ay-ay-ay Tatai Tatito! The great and little father has given us power to do a wonderful thing!”
The next day, the engineer shoveled coal into the firebox. Hitching two cattle cars onto the engine, he invited the Amazon Indians to step inside. Then, opening the regulator, the engineer let steam into the cylinder, which began to move the piston and the wheels of the locomotive. The Indians shouted with surprise to be carried along at ten miles an hour, instead of slowly dragging the engine themselves!
Steam engines, of course, were not made to be pulled by human power. Instead, the power to propel them comes from a fire within. The same can be said of effectual, fervent prayer. We don’t move Heaven by working up human zeal; instead, God moves us by placing the Holy Spirit within. Then, as we pray, the Spirit helps our human frailty, giving us divine earnestness to pray for things that match God’s will. With the power of the Spirit within, we can know that the Father hears us and will grant our petitions!
*About a century ago.
From The Missionary Review, Volume 30, 1907.
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