Illustration results for psalms 91
Sermon Central Staff
A LIGHT THAT LASTS
Thomas Edison invented the electric light bulb in 1879. Twenty-two years later, in 1901, one of the newfangled gadgets was hung and turned on in the Livermore, Calif., Fire Department. Itís still there, and still on. The old bulb has almost never been turned off in 109 years.
By todayís standards it should have burned out 852 times by now. The bulb, hand-blown, with a thick carbon filament, was made, it is said, by the Shelby Electric Company, which did not become one of the giants of the nation, for an obvious reason. The Shelby Company made light bulbs to last, and nobody ever reordered.
The bulb is accorded an awesome respect by Fire Captain Kirby Slate and his men. In a time of planted and planned obsolescence, when gadgets are forever falling apart or burning out or breaking up, itís reassuring to watch a dusty 109-year-old light bulb shine on and on and on.
His promises are never failing.
(From a sermon by Ralph Andrus, How to Dwell Securely, 8/26/2010)
FATHERíS DAY: A TRIBUTE Today is Fatherís Day. A day of cologne. A day of hugs, new neckties, long-distance phone calls, and Hallmark cards. Today is my first Fatherís Day without a father. For thirty-one years I had one. I had one of the best. But now heís gone. Heís buried under an oak tree in a west Texas cemetery. Even though heís gone, his presence is very near--especially today. It seems strange that he isnít here. I guess thatís because he was never gone. He was always close by. Always available. Always present. His words were nothing novel. His achievements, though admirable, were nothing extraordinary. But his presence was. Like a warm fireplace in a large house, he was a source of comfort. Like a sturdy porch swing or a big-branched elm in the backyard, he could always be found...and leaned upon. During the turbulent years of my adolescence, Dad was one part of my life that was predictable. Girl friends came and girl friends went, but Dad was there. Football season turned into baseball season and turned into football season again and Dad was always there. Summer vacation, Homecoming dates, algebra, first car, driveway basketball--they all had one thing in common: his presence. And because he was there life went smoothly. The car always ran, the bills got paid, and the lawn stayed mowed. Because he was there, the laughter was fresh and the future was secure. Because he was there my growing up was what God intended growing up to be; a storybook scamper through the magic and mystery of the world. Because he was there we kids never worried about things like income tax, savings accounts, monthly bills, or mortgages. Those were the things on Daddyís desk. We have lots of family pictures without him. Not because he wasnít there, but because he was always behind the camera. He made the decisions, broke up the fights, chuckled at Archie Bunker, read the paper every evening, and fixed breakfast on Sundays. He didnít do anything unusual. He only did what dads are supposed to do--be there. He taught me how to shave and how to pray. He helped me memorize verses for Sunday school and taught me that wrong should be punished and that rightness has its own reward. He modeled the importance of getting up early and staying out of debt. His life expressed the elusive balance between ambition and self-acceptance. He comes to mind often. When I smell "Old Spice" aftershave, I think of him. When I see a bass boat I see his face. And occasionally, not too often, but occasionally when I hear a good joke, (the kind Red Skelton would tell), I hear him chuckle. He had a copyright chuckle that always came with a wide grin and arched eyebrows. Daddy never said a word to me about sex or told me his life story. But I knew that if I ever wanted to know, he would tell me. All I had to do was ask. And I knew if I ever needed him, heíd be there. Like a warm fireplace. Maybe thatís why this Fatherís Day is a bit chilly. The fire has gone out. The winds of age swallowed the late splendid flame, leaving only golden embers. But there is a strange thing about those embers...stir them a bit and a flame will dance. It will dance only briefly, but it will dance. And it will knock just enough chill out of the air to remind me that he is still...in a special way...very present. Max Lucado
After a forest fire in Yellowstone National Park, forest rangers began their trek up a mountain to assess the damage. One ranger found a bird literally petrified in ashes, perched statuesquely on the ground at the base of a tree. Startled by the eerie sight, he knocked over the bird with a stick. When he struck it, three tiny chicks scurried from under their dead motherís wings.
The loving mother, keenly aware of impending disaster, had carried her offspring to the base of the tree and had gathered them under her wings. She could have flown to safety but refused to abandon her bab...
Psa 91 Ė engineer unit (1943-45)Their chaplain encouraged them to carry a copy of this Psalm with them as they went into battle. During two years and over 20 intense battles, the unit expereinced no deaths. During Operation Ira...
The secret of a good sermon is to have a good beginning and a good ending and having the two...