Monday, February 21, 2011
Who's Praying?
Jim Cymbala's (of the Brooklyn Tabernacle) daughter had been running from God for a long time. Chrissy had rebelled against her family, had left home, and was living as far from God as she could.
But one night, this teenager awoke with the distinct feeling that someone was praying for her. And someone was.
The entire congregation of the church her father pastored was talking to God about her. During their weekly prayer meeting, a member suggested they should all pray for Chrissy.
Two days later, she came home. The first question she had for her startled father was this: "Who was praying for me?" She begged forgiveness and recommitted her life to Christ. In the apostle Paul's second letter to Timothy, he told the young first-century pastor that he was praying for him night and day (2Ti 1:3). Timothy was facing some big challenges, so it must have been encouraging to know that Paul was praying specifically for him.
Are there some people we know who are in bondage to sin as Chrissy was, or who are facing a challenge as Timothy was? Are we willing to spend some concentrated time praying for them? Are we confident that God will answer?
To influence others for God, intercede with God for others.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
My Friend went home to be with JESUS
On 19th October 2010, my friend Mary Anne, went home to be with JESUS after a year long battle against Cancer.
We became friends when I was 10 & she was in her late 30s. She was a single lady who lived in the same area. She loved me. When I came home from school she called out to me and gaves me boxes of dry fruits or sweets or Tang. One day she bought the entire raffle booklet from me. She loved me.
Then a few years later things happened and my mom & she & we never spoke again. It was an ugly fight, by all means, was blown out of proportion. In 1998.
Since then we never spoke. People made fun of her because she was single. They ridiculed her lonely life in the closed apartment. The fact that she lived alone, ate alone, and lived alone. Day after day for over a decade I watched a life from a distance.
In March this year, I bumped into her and smiled. She immediately walked towards and spoke to me like as if we always spoke, like as if nothing was a problem. Through this conversation I found out that she became a believer shortly after the fall out. And that she had been praying for our family to get to know Jesus for the last 10 years. She was enthralled to know that I had come to faith 3 years ago. We exchanged numbers. She told me that she was terminally ill.
For the rest of her life, we never lost touch. I went to her house often. We talked about the LORD, the BIBLE & she poured out so much joy & faith & love into my broken heart.
17th Aug 2010, My birthday she came home early in the morning with 2 bars of cakes for my colleagues at work, lotions because she knew how much I love them & pink nail paint because she knew how i loved pink!!!
2nd Oct 2010, Her birthday, her family decided to throw her a party. We colored her nails to match her outfit, we got her new slippers. She looked gorgeous! Everyone who she loved made it to her party...It was a lavish spread of cakes, snacks, specials, etc...We worshipped the LORD & prayed together.
Then late that night she was rushed to the hospital. She was serious & under observation. Her condition just worsened overnight. With each passing day she was deteriorating more and more.
I often wondered what was GOD going to do through it all. Was HE going to come through and simply heal her sickness & take away her pain? Was HE going to use her sickness to glorify HIMSELF? How long was she going to suffer this?
And then on the 19th of Oct, after 17 days of of the dreadful hospitalization, at 10:30 pm My friend Mary Anne went home to be with JESUS forever and ever and ever and ever...
We became friends when I was 10 & she was in her late 30s. She was a single lady who lived in the same area. She loved me. When I came home from school she called out to me and gaves me boxes of dry fruits or sweets or Tang. One day she bought the entire raffle booklet from me. She loved me.
Then a few years later things happened and my mom & she & we never spoke again. It was an ugly fight, by all means, was blown out of proportion. In 1998.
Since then we never spoke. People made fun of her because she was single. They ridiculed her lonely life in the closed apartment. The fact that she lived alone, ate alone, and lived alone. Day after day for over a decade I watched a life from a distance.
In March this year, I bumped into her and smiled. She immediately walked towards and spoke to me like as if we always spoke, like as if nothing was a problem. Through this conversation I found out that she became a believer shortly after the fall out. And that she had been praying for our family to get to know Jesus for the last 10 years. She was enthralled to know that I had come to faith 3 years ago. We exchanged numbers. She told me that she was terminally ill.
For the rest of her life, we never lost touch. I went to her house often. We talked about the LORD, the BIBLE & she poured out so much joy & faith & love into my broken heart.
17th Aug 2010, My birthday she came home early in the morning with 2 bars of cakes for my colleagues at work, lotions because she knew how much I love them & pink nail paint because she knew how i loved pink!!!
2nd Oct 2010, Her birthday, her family decided to throw her a party. We colored her nails to match her outfit, we got her new slippers. She looked gorgeous! Everyone who she loved made it to her party...It was a lavish spread of cakes, snacks, specials, etc...We worshipped the LORD & prayed together.
Then late that night she was rushed to the hospital. She was serious & under observation. Her condition just worsened overnight. With each passing day she was deteriorating more and more.
I often wondered what was GOD going to do through it all. Was HE going to come through and simply heal her sickness & take away her pain? Was HE going to use her sickness to glorify HIMSELF? How long was she going to suffer this?
And then on the 19th of Oct, after 17 days of of the dreadful hospitalization, at 10:30 pm My friend Mary Anne went home to be with JESUS forever and ever and ever and ever...
As for me...I miss her...And one day in eternity I will meet her again...
The african girl, hot water bottle & doll
A True Story By Helen Roseveare
One night, in Central Africa, I had worked hard to help a mother in the labor ward; but in spite of all that we could do, she died leaving us with a tiny, premature baby and a crying, two-year-old daughter. We would have difficulty keeping the baby alive. We had no incubator. We had no electricity to run an incubator, and no special feeding facilities. Although we lived on the equator, nights were often chilly with treacherous drafts.
A student-midwife went for the box we had for such babies and for the cotton wool that the baby would be wrapped in. Another went to stoke up the fire and fill a hot water bottle. She came back shortly, in distress, to tell me that in filling the bottle, it had burst. Rubber perishes easily in tropical climates. "...and it is our last hot water bottle!" she exclaimed. As in the West, it is no good crying over spilled milk; so, in Central Africa it might be considered no good crying over a burst water bottle. They do not grow on trees, and there are no drugstores down forest pathways. All right," I said, "Put the baby as near the fire as you safely can; sleep between the baby and the door to keep it free from drafts. Your job is to keep the baby warm."
The following noon, as I did most days, I went to have prayers with many of the orphanage children who chose to gather with me. I gave the youngsters various suggestions of things to pray about and told them about the tiny baby. I explained our problem about keeping the baby warm enough, mentioning the hot water bottle. The baby could so easily die if it got chilled. I also told them about the two-year-old sister, crying because her mother had died.
A student-midwife went for the box we had for such babies and for the cotton wool that the baby would be wrapped in. Another went to stoke up the fire and fill a hot water bottle. She came back shortly, in distress, to tell me that in filling the bottle, it had burst. Rubber perishes easily in tropical climates. "...and it is our last hot water bottle!" she exclaimed. As in the West, it is no good crying over spilled milk; so, in Central Africa it might be considered no good crying over a burst water bottle. They do not grow on trees, and there are no drugstores down forest pathways. All right," I said, "Put the baby as near the fire as you safely can; sleep between the baby and the door to keep it free from drafts. Your job is to keep the baby warm."
The following noon, as I did most days, I went to have prayers with many of the orphanage children who chose to gather with me. I gave the youngsters various suggestions of things to pray about and told them about the tiny baby. I explained our problem about keeping the baby warm enough, mentioning the hot water bottle. The baby could so easily die if it got chilled. I also told them about the two-year-old sister, crying because her mother had died.
During the prayer time, one ten-year-old girl, Ruth, prayed with the usual blunt consciousness of our African children. "Please, God," she prayed, "send us a water bottle. It'll be no good tomorrow, God, the baby'll be dead; so, please send it this afternoon." While I gasped inwardly at the audacity of the prayer, she added by way of corollary, " ...And while You are about it, would You please send a dolly for the little girl so she'll know You really love her?" As often with children's prayers, I was put on the spot. Could I honestly say, "Amen?" I just did not believe that God could do this. Oh, yes, I know that He can do everything: The Bible says so, but there are limits, aren't there? The only way God could answer this particular prayer would be by sending a parcel from the homeland. I had been in Africa for almost four years at that time, and I had never, ever received a parcel from home. Anyway, if anyone did send a parcel, who would put in a hot water bottle? I lived on the equator!
Halfway through the afternoon, while I was teaching in the nurses' training school, a message was sent that there was a car at my front door. By the time that I reached home, the car had gone, but there, on the veranda, was a large twenty-two pound parcel! I felt tears pricking my eyes. I could not open the parcel alone; so, I sent for the orphanage children. Together we pulled off the string, carefully undoing each knot. We folded the paper, taking care not to tear it unduly. Excitement was mounting. Some thirty or forty pairs of eyes were focused on the large cardboard box.
Halfway through the afternoon, while I was teaching in the nurses' training school, a message was sent that there was a car at my front door. By the time that I reached home, the car had gone, but there, on the veranda, was a large twenty-two pound parcel! I felt tears pricking my eyes. I could not open the parcel alone; so, I sent for the orphanage children. Together we pulled off the string, carefully undoing each knot. We folded the paper, taking care not to tear it unduly. Excitement was mounting. Some thirty or forty pairs of eyes were focused on the large cardboard box.
From the top, I lifted out brightly colored, knitted jerseys. Eyes sparkled as I gave them out. Then, there were the knitted bandages for the leprosy patients, and the children began to look a little bored. Next, came a box of mixed raisins and sultanas - - that would make a nice batch of buns for the weekend. As I put my hand in again, I felt the...could it really be? I grasped it, and pulled it out. Yes, "A brand-new rubber, hot water bottle!" I cried. I had not asked God to send it; I had not truly believed that He could. Ruth was in the front row of the children. She rushed forward, crying out, "If God has sent the bottle, He must have sent the dolly, too!" Rummaging down to the bottom of the box, she pulled out the small, beautifully dressed dolly. Her eyes shone: She had never doubted! Looking up at me, she asked, "Can I go over with you, Mummy, and give this dolly to that little girl, so she'll know that Jesus really loves her?"
That parcel had been on the way for five whole months, packed up by my former Sunday School class, whose leader had heard and obeyed God's prompting to send a hot water bottle, even to the equator. One of the girls had put in a dolly for an African child -- five months earlier in answer to the believing prayer of a ten-year-old to bring it "That afternoon!"
Helen Roseveare a doctor missionary from England to Zaire, Africa, told this as it had happened to her in Africa. She shared it in her testimony on a Wednesday night at Thomas Road Baptist Church.
That parcel had been on the way for five whole months, packed up by my former Sunday School class, whose leader had heard and obeyed God's prompting to send a hot water bottle, even to the equator. One of the girls had put in a dolly for an African child -- five months earlier in answer to the believing prayer of a ten-year-old to bring it "That afternoon!"
Helen Roseveare a doctor missionary from England to Zaire, Africa, told this as it had happened to her in Africa. She shared it in her testimony on a Wednesday night at Thomas Road Baptist Church.
"And it shall come to pass, that before they call, I will answer; and while they are yet speaking, I will hear." (Isaiah 65:24)
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