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It was related that once when the Duke of Wellington remained to take communion at his parish church, a very poor old man went up to the opposite aisle, and reaching the Communion table, knelt down close by the side of the Duke. (Immediately, tension and commotion interrupted the silence of the church.) Someone came and touched the poor man on the shoulder, and whispered to him to move farther away, or to rise and wait until the Duke had received the bread and the wine.
But the eagle eye and the quick ear of the great commander caught the meaning of that touch and that whisper. He clasped the old man’s hand and held him to prevent his rising; and in a reverential but distinct undertone, the Duke said, "Do not move; we are equal here." (Pulpit Helps 3/91)
I saw this in Reader’s Digest,
- On the last day of school, children were bringing gifts to their teacher. The florist’s son brought the teacher a bouquet. The candy store owner’s son brought the teacher a pretty box of candy. Then the liquor store owner’s son brought a big, heavy box. The teacher lifted it up and noticed that it was leaking a little bit. She touched a drop of the liquid with her finger and tasted it. "Is it wine?" She guessed. "No," said the boy. She tasted another drop and asked, "Champagne?" "No," said the little boy. "It’s a puppy!"
The Touch of the Masters Hand.
It was battered and scarred, and the auctioneer
Thought it scarcely worth his while,
To waste much time on the old violin,
But held it up with a smile.
"What am I did for this old violin?
You will start the bidding for me?
A dollar, a dollar, who’ll make it two?
Two dollars, and who will make it three?
"Three dollars, once; three dollars twice,
Going for three," But no;
From the back of the room a gray-haired man
Came forward and picked up the bow.
Then wiping the dist from the old violin,
And tightening up all the strings,
He played a melody pure and sweet,
As sweet as the angels sing.
The music ceased, and the auctioneer
With a voice that was quiet and low
Said, "What am I bid for the old violin?"
And he held it up with the bow.
"A thousand dollars, and who will make it two?
Two thousand! And who’ll make it three?
Three thousand, once; three thousand, twice;
And going and gone," said he.
The people cheered, but some of them said,
"We do not quite understand,
What changed its worth?" Came the reply,
"The touch of a masters hand."
And many a man with life out of tune,
And battered and scarred with sin,
Is auctioned cheap to a thoughtless crowd,
Much like the old violin.
A "mess of potage," a glass of wine;
A game, and he shuffles along.
He’s going once, and he’s going twice,
He’s going and almost gone.
But the master comes, and the thoughtless crowd
Never quite understands
The worth of a soul, and the change that’s wrought
By the touch of the Master’s hand.
-Myra Brooks Welch
Davon Huss
Exodus 18:15-18:18
Matthew 25:34-25:45
John 13:34-13:35
Luke 23:32-23:34
1 Corinthians 13:1-13:8
Ephesians 2:1-2:10
Psalms 40:1-40:3
Matthew 22:1-22:14
CYMBALA'S EASTER STORY
Jim Cymbala preaches at a church in the slums of New York. He tells the following story: It was Easter Sunday and I was so tired at the end of the day that I just went to the edge of the platform, pulled down my tie and sat down and draped my feet over the edge. It was a wonderful service with many people coming forward. The counselors were talking with these people.
As I was sitting there I looked up the middle aisle, and there in about the third row was a man who looked about fifty, disheveled, filthy. He looked up at me rather sheepishly, as if saying, “Could I talk to you?”
We have homeless people coming in all the time, asking for money or whatever. So as I sat there, I said to myself, though I am ashamed of it, “What a way to end a Sunday. I’ve had such a good time, preaching and ministering, and here’s a fellow probably wanting some money for more wine.”
He walked up. When he got within about five feet of me, I smelled a horrible smell like I’d never smelled in my life. It was so awful that when he got close, I would inhale by looking away, and then I’d talk to him, and then look away to inhale, because I couldn’t inhale facing him. I asked him, “What’s your name?”
“David.”
“How long have you been on the street?”
“Six years.”
“How old are you?”
“Thirty-two.” He looked fifty--hair matted; front teeth missing; wino; eyes slightly glazed.
“Where did you sleep last night, David?”
“Abandoned truck.”
I keep in my back pocket a money clip that also holds some credit cards. I fumbled to pick one out thinking; I’ll give him some money. I won’t even get a volunteer. They are all busy talking with others. Usually we don’t give money to people. We take them to get something to eat.
I took the money out. David pushed his finger in front of me. He said, “I don’t want your money. I want this Jesus, the One you were talking about, because I’m not going to make it. I’m going to die on the street.”
I completely forgot about David, and I started to weep for myself. I was going to give a couple of dollars to someone God had sent to me. See how easy it is? I could make the excuse I was tired. There is no excuse. I was not seeing him the way God sees him. I was not feeling what God feels.
But oh, did that change! David just stood there. He didn’t know what was happening. I pleaded with God, “God, forgive me! Forgive me! Please forgive me. I am so sorry to represent You this way. I’m so sorry. Here I am with my message and my points, and You send somebody and I am not ready for it. Oh, God!”
Something came over me. Suddenly I started to weep deeper, and David began to weep. He fell against my chest as I was sitting there. He fell against my white shirt and tie, and I put my arms around him, and there we wept on each other. The smell of His person became a beautiful aroma. Here is what I thought the Lord made real to me: If you don’t love this smell, I...
The problem is that the church that fails to change fails to impact the culture of change. It becomes a dinosaur, a memorial to a world that no longer exists. So, on the one hand, while it protects those within its walls from overwhelming stress, on the other hand, it becomes biblically and spiritually irrelevant. That which is to be the salt of the earth turns tasteless, and its light flickers dimly if at all.
Aubrey Malphurs, Pouring New Wine Into Old Wineskins, p. 88]
Remember the story of the King that had a great feast, he would provide all the meat, vegetables, the fruits, and the desserts. Each servant was to bring the best wine, one quart, and pour it into a 500 gallon wine vat. A little servant thought my quart can’t matter that much in 500 gallons. So he got there early and poured one quart of water into the huge vat. All day long over 2000 men poured their quart of their best wine into the vat. In the evening the King blessed the meal. The king took his silver chalice to the wine vat, the king opened the tap and his chalice filled with water. See, each servant thought they were so little that their little part would not matter, so the vat was filled with just water. This is the story of the Kingdom, when God’s children see how little they are, and not how big God is.
I love the story of a king that wanted to show his people how much he loved them.
So, he decided to pay for a great feast for his kingdom.
He decided to have a great meal and invite every family.
The king would provide all the meat, all the vegetables, all the desserts ...
everything, the king would provide all, but the wine.
The king asked every family to bring one bottle of their best wine.
He would see that there was a several thousand gallon vat for all to pour in their bottle of wine.
What a feast this would be! The King wanted to honor his people.
One poor farmer decided, he would slip in his bottle, nothing but water, no wine.
How would the king ever know his selfishness?
His one bottle of water mixed with thousands of bottles of wine would never be known.
The King would never know? The taste would still be good.
So the poor farmer climbed the stairs to the top of the vat and while no one was looking,
he poured in his bottle of wine, I mean his bottle of water in with the thousands of other
wine bottles.
No one saw him. He had fooled every one there.
He laughed, he got away cheap!
He sat down at the kings table ready for the feast.
The king was so proud, he honored his precious people.
He filled his plate with delicious food.
The King picked up his Royal Gold Chalice.
The king placed his chalice under the spout of the huge vat of wine.
The king looked into his chalice, and to his surprise ... it was clear, pure water.
Seems everybody in the kingdom thought their little bottle of water would not matter
in the vat of wine..
Dear friend, your part matters!
Doubt cannot feed on doubt else it would die.
Doubt degenerates into cynicism, faultfinding, doom, gloom, pessimism.
Life is what you should emphasize...
Do you emphasize adverse, negative attitudes that fall into hopelessness and despair?
Self inflicted depression? You decide?
Are you going to leave and quit also?
On the last day of school, children were bringing gifts to their teacher. The florist’s son brought the teacher a bouquet. The candy storeowner’s son brought the teacher a pretty box of candy. Then the liquor storeowner’s son brought a big, heavy box. The teacher lifted it up and noticed that it was leaking a bit. She touched a drop of liquid with her finger and tasted it. “Is ...
“Instead of putting facts into the [wine] press of meditation, and fermenting them until they can draw out inferences, they leave them to rot and perish. They extract none of the sweet juice of wisdom from the precious fruits of the vine-tree. A man who reads only a tenth part as much, but who takes the grapes of Eschol that he gathers, and squeezes them by meditation, will learn more in a week than your pendant will in a year, because he muses on what he reads."
(Charles Spurgeon)
’Twas battered and scarred, and the auctioneer thought it scarcely worth his while
To waste much time on the old violin, But he held it up with a smile,
"What am I bid, good folks," he cried "Who’ll start the bidding for me?"
"1 dollar, a dollar"; then, "Two! Only two? Two dollars, and who’ll make it three?
Three dollars, once; three dollars, twice; Going for three --" But no,
From the room, far back, a gray haired man came forward and picked up the bow;
Then, wiping the dust from the old violin And tightening the loose strings,
He played a melody pure and sweet As the caroling angel sings.
The music ceased, and the auctioneer, With a voice that was quiet and low,
Said: What am I bid for the old violin?" And he held it up with the bow.
"A thousand dollars, and who’ll make it two? Two thousand! And who’ll make it three?
Three thousand, once; three thousand, twice, And going, and gone," said he.
The people cheered, but some of them cried, "We do not quite understand
What changed its worth?" Swift came the reply: "The touch of a masters hand,"
And many a man with life out of tune And battered and scarred with sin,
Is auctioned cheap to the thoughtless crowd, Much like the old violin
A "mess of pottage," a glass of wine A game - and he travels on.
He is "going" once, and "going" twice He’s "going" and almost "gone,"
But the Master comes, and the foolish crowd Never can quite understand
The worth of a soul and the change that’s wrought By the touch of the Master’s hand.
by Myra Brooks Welch
Pastor's MediaVault
