Illustration results for luke 23

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One of the most powerful prayers in the midst of suffering I have read was uncovered from the horrors of Ravensbruck concentration camp. Ravensbruck was a concentration camp built in 1939 for women. Over 90,000 women and children perished in Ravensbruck, murdered by the Nazis. Corrie Ten Boom, who wrote The Hiding Place, was imprisoned there too. The prayer, found in the clothing of a dead child, says:

O Lord, remember not only the men and woman of good will, but also those of ill will. But do not remember all of the suffering they have inflicted upon us: Instead remember the fruits we have borne because of this suffering, our fellowship, our loyalty to one another, our humility, our courage, our generosity, the greatness of heart that has grown from this trouble. When our persecutors come to be judged by you, let all of these fruits that we have borne be their forgiveness.

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In his autobiography, Mahatma Gandhi wrote that during his student days he read the Gospels seriously and considered converting to Christianity. He believed that in the teachings of Jesus he could find the solution to the caste system that was dividing the people of India. So one Sunday he decided to attend services at a nearby church and talk to the minister about becoming a Christian. When he entered the sanctuary, however, the usher refused to give him a seat and suggested that he o worship with his own people. Gandhi left the church and never returned, “If Christians have caste differences also, “ he said, “I might as well remain a Hindu.” That usher’s prejudice not only betrayed Jesus but also turned a person away from trusting Him as Savior.

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Max Lucado (as found in his ‘God’s Inspirational Promise Book’, but written for his book, ‘In the Eye of the Storm’), told this fictional story of an angel trying to find another way for salvation:

“He looked around the hill and foresaw a scene. Three figures hung on three crosses. Arms spread. Heads fallen forward. They moaned with the wind.

Men clad in religion stood off to one side…Arrogant, cocky.

Women clad in sorrow huddled at the foot of the hill…Faces tear streaked.

All heaven stood to fight. All nature rose to rescue. All eternity poise to protect. But the Creator gave no command. ‘It must be done…,” he said, and withdrew.

The angel spoke again. “It would be less painful…”

The Creator interrupted softly. “But it wouldn’t be love.”

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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...

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“Small Opportunities in Great Tasks!” Luke 23: 50-56 Key verse(s): 55: “The women who had come with Jesus from Galilee followed Joseph and saw the tomb and how his body was laid in it.”

IF YOU HAD your choice, would you prefer that your hands and heart be on the end of great deeds or lesser ones? Great deeds are not only attention getters’; they are potentially more impacting in their scope. So it is not always a matter of recognition that must be considered. Great deeds affect more people and isn’t that the goal of every Christian? If we keep in mind that our ministries, yours and mine, are not about us but about the glory that God can reveal through us, would it not then make sense that each of us should aspire to great deeds and let the lesser one fall where they may?

Recently I had my classic car into the shop for major body work and repainting. The wear and tear of nearly four decades of driving had really taken their toll. The original paint finish, a beautiful willow green, had faded to a very indistinct grayish green color. In places the brown undercoating was showing through and it had become nearly impossible to tell just what color the car had been in the first place. Surface rust had spring up in abundance over the entire chassis skin. That combined with the revealing undercoat brought some to speculate that the car had originally been brown and that the greenish-gray paint was nothing more than a poor attempt to cover it. There were dings, dent and creases everywhere. Both rear fenders had been buckled due to accidents and there was a good size dent in one of the front fenders. Both bumpers were creased and dented and a number of pieces of chrome trim was missing. The car looked pretty sorry as I left in in the capable hands of the body shop. It would be many weeks before it would be finished.

Over the course of the next several weeks I had occasion to stop into the shop just to see how things were going. I was amazed the very first time that I stopped to see that all the dents, creases and dings had been eliminated. I walked along the sides of it brushing my hand along the now smooth and sleep exterior. But, the old paint remained as well as the surface rust. The car looked better but, unfinished as it was, it still looked kind of sad. The next time I stopped by I was told that the car had been stripped and readied for painting. Curious as to how she might look I asked to see it. The manager called up the young man who had been working on it and he guided me back to where they were working on it. There it sat, chrome taped up to prevent over-printing and completely devoid of color and finish. Frankly, it looked barren and stark as it sat there covered with a thick layer of dust and specks due to the power sanding that had been done. Improvement? Sure, the surface rust was gone and there were no more dents, creases and dings. They had put a lot of work into it; but it still seemed a long way from being finished.

Finally I got the phone call I was waiting for. My car was “finished and I could pick it up any time.” I rushed down to the shop and there she was; gleaming, painted and smooth. I could hardly believe it was the same car I had dropped off weeks earlier. As I paid my bill I asked to see the guys who had worked on her over the course of those weeks. It turned out there were several who had put a whole lot of effort into the project. I thanked each of them and then got into my car to drive back home. The first thing I noticed, however, was that there was no wax on the car and that the entire interior was coated with a thick layer of dust. There was also a missing chrome bezel over the back running light. The car was finished but not complete. There were yet a few details to be taken care of. Each not critically important but each would contribute to the overall appearance of the car. Several weeks later, new bezel in hand, interior cleaned, and a fresh coat of wax on the entire surface, the old car gleamed. It was the few final details that made all the difference.

Those Galilean women that followed Joseph to the Savior’s tomb had not been allowed to testify in Jesus’ behalf. They were not important enough to be pursued by the authorities as “followers” of the “Galilean prophet.” Neither Caiaphas nor Pontius Pilate even knew that they existed nor did they probably care. They were not preachers or baptizers but they did what they could. They were the “detailers,” the ones who took care of the little things that on the surface did not seem that important relevant to the whole picture. Yet their deeds were works of completion and finishing. On the one hand small, on the other great. You and I are often called to just such opportunities. When called to do the small things we need to recognize that even lesser opportunities serve to complete those of greater impact. In these instances we need to see that it is not what we feel we cannot do but what God has enabled us to do is important. Often in great tasks rest small opportunities. It is up to us to look for them for they are not always labeled.

THROUGH THE VALLEY OF DEATH

Philip Crosby, in his book "March Till They Die," gives an account of a forced march that American and European soldiers who had been captured had to endure in Korea.

It was November of 1950, and the North Koreans were being pushed north. As they went, they forced the American and European prisoners to go with them. It was a terrible march. They were driven as far as twenty miles a day at times, though it was cold and they were emaciated, hungry, suffering.

When prisoners who couldn’t keep up would fall back, shots would ring out. They were executed on the spot. Crosby and several other Christians would pass close to the GI’s who were having a hard time keeping up. They would say slowly in a whisper, so as not to be heard, “God is near us in this dark hour. His love is real. His mercy is real. His forgiveness is real. His reward is waiting for us....

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“Remember Me!” Luke 23:32-43 Key verse(s): 42-43:“Then he said, ‘Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.’ Jesus answered him, ‘I tell you the truth, today you will be with me in paradise’.”

Did you ever notice that there are some problems that no matter how long you work with them or how hard you try to peer into them, there just aren’t any answers to be found? I’m talking about those real humdingers that not only give you pause but actually carve out a wide swath in the course of your day. These are the posers that twist and convolute inside of your head, squirming to get out but simply not finding the way. When a multiplicity of factors collide, each wanting to go its own way, the effort to sort out which direction is the best can often lead to full cognitive collapse. Given enough time and anguish, the problem which seemed innocent enough at the start rapidly becomes an evil menace. The more you pound away at it, the more recalcitrant it becomes. The face of the problem, although defying your best efforts to solve it, you know is really not that impenetrable. Yet, if you miss the initial opportunity to grasp it, your own sense of frustration has a way of “painting” a layer of impossibility over what might otherwise be a very solvable issue. That’s when putting the problem aside for a time is often so rewarding. Attacking it again later, frustration removed, will often reveal a fairly transparent and innocent face that was always waiting to be discovered if only you had taken the time to be patient.

It’s like that for Christians as well when we look into the face of life every day. We always have the choice to peer through eyes that are wondering and full of faith. Or we can choose to look through eyes that are predisposed to become frustrated unless we get what we want in the exact time frame that we want it. Over time we have a way of “painting over” life with an almost impenetrable coating of frustration. In the quest to “understand” within the time frame and parameters of our own self-interest, we lose the opportunity to “find the answers” that were always waiting there to be found. Author M. Corcoris writes: “I was once conducting a rap session with high school teenagers. I told them that they could ask me any question on any subject, and I would try and answer it. Their questions were typical of ones I had received in similar sessions scores of times before.

As the session drew to a close, one girl toward the back, who had not said anything, raised her hand. I nodded, and she said, ‘The Bible says God loves everybody. Then it says that God sends people to hell. How can a loving God do that?’ I gave her my answer, and she came back to me with arguments. I answered her arguments, and she answered my answers. The conversation quickly degenerated into an argument. I did not convince her, nor did she convince me. After a few more questions I dismissed the session. After the session I approached her and said, ‘I owe you an apology. I really should not have allowed our discussion to become so argumentative.’ Then I asked, ‘May I share something with you?’ She said, ‘Yes.’ So I took her through a basic presentation of the gospel. When I got to Romans 3:23 and suggested that all of us were sinners she began to cry. It was then that this high school senior admitted she had been having an affair with a married man. The one thing she needed was forgiveness. When I finished the presentation of the gospel, she trusted Christ. The reason she did not believe in hell was because she was going there. In her heart she knew she had sinned. Her conscience condemned her, but rather than face the fact of her guilt, she simply denied any future judgment or future hell.” (M. Cocoris, Evangelism, A Biblical Approach, Moody, 1984, p...

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