9/11 Remembered…
By Andre Pelser
(Based on some notes I made in my dairy taken from the Washington Trade Post)
Hundreds of small fires were burning everywhere…
Rescue workers were walking knee-deep in the ashes of the Hellscape…
The global prestige, the wealth towers crumbled to the ground and buried thousands of people near a fountain where the inscription read, ‘The Triumph of the Human Spirit’.
In a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, the world turned black. Human shock caused people to jump from the skyscrapers, desperate beyond comprehension, 100 storeys high. The voice of a little girl rang out among the cacophony of other sounds, ‘Look Mommy!’ as she pointed to the figures plunging downward.
The sky scrapers served as chimneys as the floors collapsed. They resembled smouldering cigarettes from the Long Island Express Way. Most of the highly compensated labourers in the world worked in those towers.
Jet-A standard aviation fuel produces 1500 degrees Fahrenheit. The explosion of the Jet Planes, at impact, caused the excessive heat to melt the metal, brick and glass…the heat was too unbearable for anyone to survive.
Dave Wilkerson prophesied it would happen…ten years ago. He said the bodies of people would evaporate…no one believed him and called him a false prophet of doom. He said the wickedness of drug addicted traders who play with the fortunes of others will be judged severely. He said New York will be shocked. He said the Trade Towers would be removed…
A mile away people sat idle in parks, drinking Salvation Army grape juice…
A few hundred yards away the children’s play ground stood untouched near the river terrace. Daisies grew tall in bright sunlight and the hippopotamus statues had no dust on them at all. Song birds chirped in the bushes.
A commodities trader that saw how the second jet struck Tower Two ran to his computer to buy gold shares. He watched the price shoot up to $280 an ounce! Minutes later the exchange shut down. Business and Trade had come to a sudden halt. The Twin Towers of the World Trade Centre, erected in 1973 no longer existed….Babylon had fallen…businessmen cried because no one could do business there anymore.
In a movie theatre across the street from the World Trade Centre, the film ‘Ghost World’ was still being screened.
I turned 50 on that fateful day and cried most of the afternoon and evening…because
I was there in 1973 when these buildings were erected…I was there in New York, living in an apartment in 89th Street East, with my Puerto Rican friend, Victor Ferrer, who gave me his leather Bible cover for my Thomson’s Chain Reference Bible. His Mom thought she looked like Marilyn Monroe with her blond dyed hair.
I visited the United Nations building, the Twin Towers and the Statue of Liberty and have some pics to prove it! We climbed up and up in Lady Liberty’ s stairs right up to her crown from where we viewed New York from a completely different angle. We went up into the Empire State building. But the Twin Trade Towers were an enigma to us: why build such tall towers?
JFK said, ‘people ask why go to the moon? I say, why not!’
When I look at my faded photo’s in my album, I wonder about a lot of things. I also wonder why 9/11 happened on my 50th birth day. What is the significance for me? Eleventh of September will never again be the same for me. Every year they remember those who died in that cowardly act of those Muslim militant extremists who high-jacked the American planes and flew them into the Trade Towers and other targets.
The world will never be the same after that – I knew that much. Things have changed, for ever! I wonder what actually changed in me.
Friday, 18 September 2009
Monday, 31 August 2009
Write, write, write
It is quiet in Llaregyb, just the bible black fishing boat bobbing sea...Under Milkwood by Dylan Thomas, the poet extraordinaire, Irish by birth. Somehow those lines came back to me this morning as I sat at the desk, hoping for some fresh inspiration to write.
I remember George Bernard Shaw saying how he contributed to the Life Force by disciplining himself to write every day. Somehow I picked up on that and write something wherever I am, at the airport, in a hotel room, at home, in a train, in a restaurant, and I remember how I used to write from an early age, even in my room as a school boy.
When the teacher gave us five topics to write an essay I would write about all five and let her choose which one she wanted to mark. And then in Matric I wrote excercise books full for my friends to read - just because I wanted to write. I have never stopped writing.
My shelves and my metal trunks are full of notebooks from an early age. Whenever my granny told some of her unforgettable stories about the life of Afrikaners in Vrede, and in Brixton, I would go to my room and scribble them down. I intend to publish a book about Oum Jannie's stories and I want to turn it into a one-woman-drama with my daughter Yve who is expert at communicating with an audience as an actress.
Pilate made a statement that bears repitition: what I have written is written. Nothing can change that. What is not written is forgotten. There is so much in life that is forgotten because nobody wrote it down.
My stint as a journalist for the Afrikaans newspaper Beeld taught me to be accurate with words. I was a court journalist. If you do not give an accurate report you could be arrested. So every word counted. It disciplined my writing.
We have given out over 350 000 free Harvest Times newspapers over a period of two years just before the change of the century. I have written copiously, manuals, books and sermons as well as short booklets and tracts.
Somewhere someone will read something I have written and it will change a life it will sow a seed it will be a blessing it will meet a need.
Napoleon's statement the pen is mightier than the sword bears repitition and wherever I go if people tell me their stories I encourage them to write, write, write. And if they don't I keep notes in my little Moleskine notebooks of the outline of what they shared with me.
It passes the time to write and it is not a waste of time either, because it is preserved for posterity.
The man that encouraged me to keep a notebook was Camus, the nobel prize winning novelist from Algiers and France who was also a goal keeper for France in his hey day but died in a tragic car accident at the age of 40. He was an existentialist and some of his philosophies are not what I believe at all, but his lucid mind and his turn of phrase and keen observation inspired me for a life time to always keep a notebook handy. Because what you did not write down you forget.
If parents would remember to do this they would enjoy the treausre of their children's antics even more. Photographs do not do justice to any memory. It is a two dimensional reminder, whereas a written paragraph preserves the feelings on paper and gives perspective on multi-levels to preserve for ever.
Thanks to the Jews who preserved the writings of Moses and the Prophets for us and for the churches that preserved the writings of the Gospel writers and the epistles fo the apostles. Where would we be if it wasn't for them? We would be nowhere at all.
So in all my writing I comfort myself with the thought that someone somewhere woudl read what I have written and it would serve to improve their lives and benefit them far beyond my comprehension today.
There is much going on today on the Internet, Facebook, Twitter and all, but in the end writing is a key to preserving the present and to remind us of the past and help to predict the future.
What have you written today?
I remember George Bernard Shaw saying how he contributed to the Life Force by disciplining himself to write every day. Somehow I picked up on that and write something wherever I am, at the airport, in a hotel room, at home, in a train, in a restaurant, and I remember how I used to write from an early age, even in my room as a school boy.
When the teacher gave us five topics to write an essay I would write about all five and let her choose which one she wanted to mark. And then in Matric I wrote excercise books full for my friends to read - just because I wanted to write. I have never stopped writing.
My shelves and my metal trunks are full of notebooks from an early age. Whenever my granny told some of her unforgettable stories about the life of Afrikaners in Vrede, and in Brixton, I would go to my room and scribble them down. I intend to publish a book about Oum Jannie's stories and I want to turn it into a one-woman-drama with my daughter Yve who is expert at communicating with an audience as an actress.
Pilate made a statement that bears repitition: what I have written is written. Nothing can change that. What is not written is forgotten. There is so much in life that is forgotten because nobody wrote it down.
My stint as a journalist for the Afrikaans newspaper Beeld taught me to be accurate with words. I was a court journalist. If you do not give an accurate report you could be arrested. So every word counted. It disciplined my writing.
We have given out over 350 000 free Harvest Times newspapers over a period of two years just before the change of the century. I have written copiously, manuals, books and sermons as well as short booklets and tracts.
Somewhere someone will read something I have written and it will change a life it will sow a seed it will be a blessing it will meet a need.
Napoleon's statement the pen is mightier than the sword bears repitition and wherever I go if people tell me their stories I encourage them to write, write, write. And if they don't I keep notes in my little Moleskine notebooks of the outline of what they shared with me.
It passes the time to write and it is not a waste of time either, because it is preserved for posterity.
The man that encouraged me to keep a notebook was Camus, the nobel prize winning novelist from Algiers and France who was also a goal keeper for France in his hey day but died in a tragic car accident at the age of 40. He was an existentialist and some of his philosophies are not what I believe at all, but his lucid mind and his turn of phrase and keen observation inspired me for a life time to always keep a notebook handy. Because what you did not write down you forget.
If parents would remember to do this they would enjoy the treausre of their children's antics even more. Photographs do not do justice to any memory. It is a two dimensional reminder, whereas a written paragraph preserves the feelings on paper and gives perspective on multi-levels to preserve for ever.
Thanks to the Jews who preserved the writings of Moses and the Prophets for us and for the churches that preserved the writings of the Gospel writers and the epistles fo the apostles. Where would we be if it wasn't for them? We would be nowhere at all.
So in all my writing I comfort myself with the thought that someone somewhere woudl read what I have written and it would serve to improve their lives and benefit them far beyond my comprehension today.
There is much going on today on the Internet, Facebook, Twitter and all, but in the end writing is a key to preserving the present and to remind us of the past and help to predict the future.
What have you written today?
Monday, 20 July 2009
And the Seal leaped!
After a long session on the paddle ski, he ditched it on the beach and took to the surf board. Within a jiffy he was behind the waves and waited for the perfect one – ala Kelly Slater! The waves broke right for him. All he had to do was to paddle hard enough to catch it!
Then it happened…the perfect wave came and his little arms flashed like windmills to get into the wave! He took it and rode and rode and rode almost for 40 seconds – like those magical rides at Jay Bay’s Point or Super Tubes!
When he bailed out of the wave he threw both his hands up in the air and let out an elated scream of utter joy! I could almost hear him say (like he normally does): ‘this was the best wave of my life! (Like Wing Nut and his friend in Endless Summer normal do).
Without hesitation he turned the nose of the board around and paddled back in. To our amazement the next wave was just as perfect and he caught it again and rode it all the way to the beach. Then another and another one!
The ocean then offered a time for him to catch his breath and a lull in the set of waves came for a while. He sat out there on his board – not a care in this world.
Then the moment came that I will never forget as long as I live: a seal took the next wave and surfed past Hilton, turned and stuck his head out of the water and looked at him on his board. He was close to him. And then the seal leaped! High into the air it went and dived back in, like Dolphins do, all around Hilton in a 270 degree circle!
The absolute joy of creation seemed tangible at that moment. The seal smiled and wiggled his moustache! The sheer exuberance of being alive in God’s creation exploded in our sight!
Nola and I were close to tears sitting under the umbrella in the shade, watching this spectacle of joy.
‘You can see God’s hand in creation!’ Nola quipped.
Then it happened…the perfect wave came and his little arms flashed like windmills to get into the wave! He took it and rode and rode and rode almost for 40 seconds – like those magical rides at Jay Bay’s Point or Super Tubes!
When he bailed out of the wave he threw both his hands up in the air and let out an elated scream of utter joy! I could almost hear him say (like he normally does): ‘this was the best wave of my life! (Like Wing Nut and his friend in Endless Summer normal do).
Without hesitation he turned the nose of the board around and paddled back in. To our amazement the next wave was just as perfect and he caught it again and rode it all the way to the beach. Then another and another one!
The ocean then offered a time for him to catch his breath and a lull in the set of waves came for a while. He sat out there on his board – not a care in this world.
Then the moment came that I will never forget as long as I live: a seal took the next wave and surfed past Hilton, turned and stuck his head out of the water and looked at him on his board. He was close to him. And then the seal leaped! High into the air it went and dived back in, like Dolphins do, all around Hilton in a 270 degree circle!
The absolute joy of creation seemed tangible at that moment. The seal smiled and wiggled his moustache! The sheer exuberance of being alive in God’s creation exploded in our sight!
Nola and I were close to tears sitting under the umbrella in the shade, watching this spectacle of joy.
‘You can see God’s hand in creation!’ Nola quipped.
Two Days in Boston
Boston, Massachusetts
The Bostonians refer to Boston as the cradle of liberty and the hub of the universe. It is in fact the birthplace of a nation. You can take a walk down Freedom Trial and visit the house of Paul Revere; you can smell the familiar fragrances of Bean Town and spot the designs of Newbury Street and eat roast duck in Back Bay; or slurp clam chowder in North End – yes this is the place of the great Boston Tea Party!
Harvard University has set the pace for education since its inception and great scholars have become great men in this great nation of America.
The public parks are neatly and exquisitely manicured and nothing is out of place: even the color schemes of the flowers are grouped in such a way to soothe the eye of the beholder.
But the park that stands out among them all is definitely Fenwick Park, the home of the Boston Red Sox baseball team.
The whole world listens to the Boston Pops orchestra and every art lover visits the Gallerie D’Orsay. It is not too far from the JF Kennedy library.
For the adventurers there is ample opportunity to go and ski in the mountains of Vermont or climb the Appalachian Mountains.
The theatre district has much to offer to theatre buffs and tourists and the latest shows and bands are on a list of what’s available at night time.
The great malls and tall buildings are impressive and yet not as intimidating as New York Central, and the people in Boston are friendly and have time to chat to a stranger when they are approached.
Mary Baker Eddy’s Christian Science Museum is in the heart of the city. This is where she wrote all her books.
There are many cathedrals and church in the city as well and they have exciting programs on offer each Sunday.
The flow of traffic is slow and orderly and you will never see so many expensive cars together in one place as you would in Boston.
The obvious opulence of the city is part of its attraction: yet there is no arrogance among the people.
The Bostonians refer to Boston as the cradle of liberty and the hub of the universe. It is in fact the birthplace of a nation. You can take a walk down Freedom Trial and visit the house of Paul Revere; you can smell the familiar fragrances of Bean Town and spot the designs of Newbury Street and eat roast duck in Back Bay; or slurp clam chowder in North End – yes this is the place of the great Boston Tea Party!
Harvard University has set the pace for education since its inception and great scholars have become great men in this great nation of America.
The public parks are neatly and exquisitely manicured and nothing is out of place: even the color schemes of the flowers are grouped in such a way to soothe the eye of the beholder.
But the park that stands out among them all is definitely Fenwick Park, the home of the Boston Red Sox baseball team.
The whole world listens to the Boston Pops orchestra and every art lover visits the Gallerie D’Orsay. It is not too far from the JF Kennedy library.
For the adventurers there is ample opportunity to go and ski in the mountains of Vermont or climb the Appalachian Mountains.
The theatre district has much to offer to theatre buffs and tourists and the latest shows and bands are on a list of what’s available at night time.
The great malls and tall buildings are impressive and yet not as intimidating as New York Central, and the people in Boston are friendly and have time to chat to a stranger when they are approached.
Mary Baker Eddy’s Christian Science Museum is in the heart of the city. This is where she wrote all her books.
There are many cathedrals and church in the city as well and they have exciting programs on offer each Sunday.
The flow of traffic is slow and orderly and you will never see so many expensive cars together in one place as you would in Boston.
The obvious opulence of the city is part of its attraction: yet there is no arrogance among the people.
Respect breeds respect
Something else that was most noticable in America was the upsurge of respect. People greet you and treat you with respect. When I asked an attendant at Atlanta International Airport at midnight where the public transport exit was, the old man pointed me in the right direction and added: 'You're welcome, Sir!'
Street vendors, restauranteurs, hotel receptionists, shop owners, taxi drivers and people that you meet everywhere seem to have a new sense of dignity and regard for other human beings that shows itself in respect.
Someone once said that respect is the best form of self defence. When you speak respectfully to someone who reviles you, it disarms them completely.
Because of my army training, I understood the respectful salutes very well and quickly fell into the rhythm of calling other men 'Sir' when addressing them. It gives you a sudden rush of well-being!
All of a sudden it is a pleasure to be alive. For a moment you feel like royalty, like someone who deserves a certain respect and it takes nothing from you to reciprocate.
Come to think of it, it takes the same breath and the same energy to speak respectfull to others as it does to be disrespectful. It is a matter of choice. Or perhaps it is a matter of breeding.
America has a way of infiltrating society with its own values whenever they want to. It seems that there is a new upsurgence of respect wherever I travelled in America. It was obvious. When you buy a train ticket at a railway station or on the tubes they thank you and add, 'Sir'. It is a pleasure to do business with Americans on the phone. The respect makes you want to do the deal!
Sarah in the bible had a way with Abraham, the father of our faith. She respected him and even called him, 'lord'. This is going a further step, climbing even higher on the step ladder of respect!
When women respect their husbands they inspire them to do great things and to accomplish great feets. When children respect their parents it brings great joy to the hearts of the paretns who give their best to raise them.
All of us can do with a bit of respect these days - the times are hard and nothing comes easy, but respect costs nothing at all. We can all give and receive a bit more respect that will enhance our society as a whole.
Finally, respect towards God and God's Word, the Bible, and the institutio of a church will cause a revival of a new nature: the fear of God brings wisdom and perhaps we all need more wisdom than we realise.
Well, perhaps it starts with a bit of respect towards ourselves. But that is another chapter.
Street vendors, restauranteurs, hotel receptionists, shop owners, taxi drivers and people that you meet everywhere seem to have a new sense of dignity and regard for other human beings that shows itself in respect.
Someone once said that respect is the best form of self defence. When you speak respectfully to someone who reviles you, it disarms them completely.
Because of my army training, I understood the respectful salutes very well and quickly fell into the rhythm of calling other men 'Sir' when addressing them. It gives you a sudden rush of well-being!
All of a sudden it is a pleasure to be alive. For a moment you feel like royalty, like someone who deserves a certain respect and it takes nothing from you to reciprocate.
Come to think of it, it takes the same breath and the same energy to speak respectfull to others as it does to be disrespectful. It is a matter of choice. Or perhaps it is a matter of breeding.
America has a way of infiltrating society with its own values whenever they want to. It seems that there is a new upsurgence of respect wherever I travelled in America. It was obvious. When you buy a train ticket at a railway station or on the tubes they thank you and add, 'Sir'. It is a pleasure to do business with Americans on the phone. The respect makes you want to do the deal!
Sarah in the bible had a way with Abraham, the father of our faith. She respected him and even called him, 'lord'. This is going a further step, climbing even higher on the step ladder of respect!
When women respect their husbands they inspire them to do great things and to accomplish great feets. When children respect their parents it brings great joy to the hearts of the paretns who give their best to raise them.
All of us can do with a bit of respect these days - the times are hard and nothing comes easy, but respect costs nothing at all. We can all give and receive a bit more respect that will enhance our society as a whole.
Finally, respect towards God and God's Word, the Bible, and the institutio of a church will cause a revival of a new nature: the fear of God brings wisdom and perhaps we all need more wisdom than we realise.
Well, perhaps it starts with a bit of respect towards ourselves. But that is another chapter.
Tuesday, 14 July 2009
OMG in USA
What struck me on my recent visit to the United States of America is the abbreviation of the use of the Name of the Lord in vain in the local newspapers! OMG represents the most commonly used phrase on American TV and in daily conversations instilled by Hollywood and the media: Oh My God!
The Bible clearly states that you shall not use the name of the Lord your God in vain. There are clear indications of punishment awaiting those who use the name of the Lord in vain.
The old Jewish holy men did not even dare to mention the word 'GOD' nor would they dare to write it, but preferred the respectful version, 'G-D', in their manuscripts to honor the commnandment not to use the name of the Lord in vain.
But Hollywood and the American TV moguls have succeeded in teaching this generation to liberally use the word of the Lord in vain and they glamorized it as fashionable and common. They took something sacared and made it as common as a dirty rag.
The other thing they succeeded in was to use the name of the Lord Jesus Christ as the most common swear word in movies and TV. The actors never use the name of Buddha or Mohammed in vain. Nor do they swear by using the names of Darwin, Voltaire or Rousseau, or Karl Marx or Freud. It is always ' Jesus Christ - this' and ' Jesus Christ - that'.
Now the latest fad is to abbreviate it in the age of technological slogans based on abbreviations - the underlying implication being that if you do not know what the abbreviation stands for you are obviously not enlightened.
OMG appears in newspaper articles, magazines and soon the TV commentators will start using it and then it will be part and parcel of the movie and TV scripts and then in daily use by teenagers...
America, America, America when will you realise that God has blessed you and preserverd you until this day? When will you admit that it is His goodness and mercy that has made you what you are? When will you remember the warning that using his name in vain is punishable for generations to come? When will you admit your part in influencing the world to curse and use the name of the Lord in vain?
Isn't it time to repent and change your ways?
You call it old fashioned to believe in the bible. You talk about the post-Christian world as if it is gone and as if true believers are no longer part of the world. Yes, you want them to leave and will be glad when they do, for they still prick your conscience and stab your hearts with the Word of God. But you prefert to turn your back on God and follow your own stubborn ways.
I pray for you, I pray for you that you will realise your error before it is too late. Every other kingdom and realm that rejected God were rejected by God. Think of the great Empires throughout history: the Medes and Persians, The Babylonians, the Greeks, the Romans, the British Empire, the Communistic Empire, and now the American Empire...
My voice might be a lonely voice in the wilderness, but I have to raise it for the sake of the ones in your midst that still keep the godly standard according to the Word of God as it is recorded in the Bible.
By shortening the phrase, Oh My God, to OMG, does not reduce the punishment awaiting those who use the name of the Lord in vain.
Turn, turn, turn before it is too late, my friends.
I literally thank God on my knees for all the good America has done for the rest of the world and when I go to preach in that great land I see it as a small part of the debt the rest of the world owes to America, just to say thank you.
My heart bleeds for you America: hear the message I am trying to convey - in the Name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth. Amen.
The Bible clearly states that you shall not use the name of the Lord your God in vain. There are clear indications of punishment awaiting those who use the name of the Lord in vain.
The old Jewish holy men did not even dare to mention the word 'GOD' nor would they dare to write it, but preferred the respectful version, 'G-D', in their manuscripts to honor the commnandment not to use the name of the Lord in vain.
But Hollywood and the American TV moguls have succeeded in teaching this generation to liberally use the word of the Lord in vain and they glamorized it as fashionable and common. They took something sacared and made it as common as a dirty rag.
The other thing they succeeded in was to use the name of the Lord Jesus Christ as the most common swear word in movies and TV. The actors never use the name of Buddha or Mohammed in vain. Nor do they swear by using the names of Darwin, Voltaire or Rousseau, or Karl Marx or Freud. It is always ' Jesus Christ - this' and ' Jesus Christ - that'.
Now the latest fad is to abbreviate it in the age of technological slogans based on abbreviations - the underlying implication being that if you do not know what the abbreviation stands for you are obviously not enlightened.
OMG appears in newspaper articles, magazines and soon the TV commentators will start using it and then it will be part and parcel of the movie and TV scripts and then in daily use by teenagers...
America, America, America when will you realise that God has blessed you and preserverd you until this day? When will you admit that it is His goodness and mercy that has made you what you are? When will you remember the warning that using his name in vain is punishable for generations to come? When will you admit your part in influencing the world to curse and use the name of the Lord in vain?
Isn't it time to repent and change your ways?
You call it old fashioned to believe in the bible. You talk about the post-Christian world as if it is gone and as if true believers are no longer part of the world. Yes, you want them to leave and will be glad when they do, for they still prick your conscience and stab your hearts with the Word of God. But you prefert to turn your back on God and follow your own stubborn ways.
I pray for you, I pray for you that you will realise your error before it is too late. Every other kingdom and realm that rejected God were rejected by God. Think of the great Empires throughout history: the Medes and Persians, The Babylonians, the Greeks, the Romans, the British Empire, the Communistic Empire, and now the American Empire...
My voice might be a lonely voice in the wilderness, but I have to raise it for the sake of the ones in your midst that still keep the godly standard according to the Word of God as it is recorded in the Bible.
By shortening the phrase, Oh My God, to OMG, does not reduce the punishment awaiting those who use the name of the Lord in vain.
Turn, turn, turn before it is too late, my friends.
I literally thank God on my knees for all the good America has done for the rest of the world and when I go to preach in that great land I see it as a small part of the debt the rest of the world owes to America, just to say thank you.
My heart bleeds for you America: hear the message I am trying to convey - in the Name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth. Amen.
Monday, 13 July 2009
We all need someon we can lean on
I felt I wanted to share this with you, I thought of putting it on the testimonies on the website, but couldnt find anything to select where I could write. Last week Sunday when you prayed for me, I cried, at first because of the emotions and the hurt, but afterwards it was something else, something I could not explain and didnt understand. God, being the loving God He is, later revealed it to me. For the very first time in my 38 years, I laid my head on my fathers shoulder, and sought refuge. Prophet Nola, and yourself, and my Godly parents. I have never had either a mother or a father figure in my life. God allowed me to lay my head on your shoulder, and know the love of a father, for the first time in my life. It is an experience I cannot describe. All I can say is that it was something I needed and will always be grateful for. We dont always realize what emptiness is in us, when we grow up without the love of a mother and father, and its sad that people who dont give their life to Jesus, will always unconsciously seek to fill that void with the wrong things. So I am glad that I am where I am, because here, in my church, my Harvester home, is where He fixes me bit by bit. And He fixed something in the picture I have of a father, in human form and in the form of God. Thank you Jesus for that experience.
Thank you for being a father.
This reminded me of the time in Australia when I was at my wits end as a missionary. I had no one to turn to and no one to ask for help. I was a stranger in a foreign land and I had a wife and two kids to take care of. I ddin't mind going without food or shelter, but I just couldn't bear the thought of not being able to provide for them. The offerings in Australia were so small wherever I preached that it hardly covered my petrol or hotel bill. Sometimes I drove 800 KM to a distant little town and then couldn't make it back on the offering. Sometimes I had no money left for food. It looked like the end of the road for me, a dead end.
I cried in frustration as I prayed to the Lord, telling him that missionary work was too hard and to unrewarding. In fact I took out all my frustrations in prayer. When I finished praying I thought God might desert me and never pay any attention to me ever again. Instead I clearly and distinctly heard a voice in me that said,'It's ok to cry on my shoulder. I have broad shoulders. The government of your life is on my shoulder. From now on many people will cry on your shoulder too.'
I never knew how many times this would repeat itself in my life. The above letter is simply an indication of many, many others that have said the same thing. I still need the Lord's shoulder to cry on sometimes...even after 27 years as a missionary. Nola and I have managed to raise three kids, one of them married with two kids of his own and also in the ministry with us. God is faithful. He is our Heavenly Father. But sometimes we all need someone we can lean on - down here!
Thank you for being a father.
This reminded me of the time in Australia when I was at my wits end as a missionary. I had no one to turn to and no one to ask for help. I was a stranger in a foreign land and I had a wife and two kids to take care of. I ddin't mind going without food or shelter, but I just couldn't bear the thought of not being able to provide for them. The offerings in Australia were so small wherever I preached that it hardly covered my petrol or hotel bill. Sometimes I drove 800 KM to a distant little town and then couldn't make it back on the offering. Sometimes I had no money left for food. It looked like the end of the road for me, a dead end.
I cried in frustration as I prayed to the Lord, telling him that missionary work was too hard and to unrewarding. In fact I took out all my frustrations in prayer. When I finished praying I thought God might desert me and never pay any attention to me ever again. Instead I clearly and distinctly heard a voice in me that said,'It's ok to cry on my shoulder. I have broad shoulders. The government of your life is on my shoulder. From now on many people will cry on your shoulder too.'
I never knew how many times this would repeat itself in my life. The above letter is simply an indication of many, many others that have said the same thing. I still need the Lord's shoulder to cry on sometimes...even after 27 years as a missionary. Nola and I have managed to raise three kids, one of them married with two kids of his own and also in the ministry with us. God is faithful. He is our Heavenly Father. But sometimes we all need someone we can lean on - down here!
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