December 2008 Signs of the Times Email Newsletter

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The Signs of the Times newsletter is a collection of stories and quotes from past issues of Signs and These Times.

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There lived in the city of Marseilles, France, long, long ago an old shoemaker, loved and honored by his neighbors, who affectionately called him “Father Martin.” One Christmas Eve as he sat alone in his little shop, reading of the visit of the wise men to the Infant Jesus, and of the gifts they brought, he said to himself, “If tomorrow were the first Christmas, and if Jesus were to be born in Marseilles this night, I know what I would give Him!”

He rose and took from a shelf two tiny shoes of softest snow-white leather, with bright silver buckles. “I would give Him these, my finest work. . . How pleased His mother would be! . . . But I’m a foolish old man,” he thought, smiling. “The Master has no need of my poor gifts.”

Replacing the shoes, he blew out the candle and retired to rest. Hardly had he closed his eyes, it seemed, when he heard a voice call his name. “Martin!” Intuitively he felt aware of the identity of the Speaker. “Martin, you have longed to see Me. Tomorrow I shall pass by your window. If you see Me and bid Me enter, I shall be your guest and sit at your table.”

Martin did not sleep that night for joy. Before it was yet dawn, he rose and swept and tidied up his little shop. Fresh sand he spread upon the floor, and green boughs of fir he wreathed along the rafters. On the spotless, linen-covered table he placed a loaf of bread, a jar of honey, and a pitcher of milk.

When all was in readiness, he took up his vigil at the window.

Presently he saw an old street sweeper pass by, blowing upon his thin, gnarled hands to warm them. “Poor fellow, he must be half frozen,” thought Martin. Opening the door, he called out to him, “Come in, my friend, and warm, and have a bite to eat.” And the man gratefully accepted the invitation.

An hour passed, and Martin saw a young, miserably clothed woman, carrying a baby. She paused wearily to rest in the shelter of his doorway. The heart of the old cobbler was touched. Quickly he flung open the door. “Come in and warm while you rest,” he said to her. “You do not look well,” he added.

“I am going to the hospital. I hope they will take me in, and my baby boy,” she exclaimed. “My husband is at sea, and I am ill, without a soul.”

“Poor child!” cried the old man. “You must eat something while you are getting warm. Let me give a cup of milk to the little one. . . Ah! What a bright, pretty little fellow he is! . . . Why, you have put no shoes on him!”

“I have no shoes for him,” sighed the mother.

“Then he shall have this lovely pair I finished yesterday.” And Martin took down from the shelf the soft little snow-white shoes he had looked at the evening before, and slipped them on him. They fitted perfectly.

Hour after hour went by. Although many people passed his window, and many needy souls shared the hospitality of the old cobbler, the expected Guest did not appear.

“It was only a dream,” he sighed.

Suddenly, so it seemed to his weary eyes, the room was flooded with a glorious light. And to the cobbler’s astonished vision there appeared before him, one by one, the poor street sweeper, the sick mother and her baby, and all the people whom he had aided during the day. And each smiled at him and said, “Have you not seen me? Did I not sit at your table?”—and vanished.

Then softly out of the silence he heard again the gentle voice:

“Whosoever shall receive one of such children in my name, receiveth me.”

“For I was an hungered, and ye gave me meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink: I was a stranger, and ye took me in.”

“Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.”—By Anne McCollum Boyles, These Times, December 1958.

Quote: “Kindness comes with slippered feet, and knocks with gentle hands.”—Unknown, Signs of the Times, January 24, 1911.

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Don't miss the January 2008 issue of Signs of the Times: “How Kids Manipulate Us”, “Is Jesus Really Coming Back?”, “God Delivers a New Earth”, “Does It Matter What I Believe?” “UFOs: Are They Real?” and other important articles. To order Signs, call: 1-800-765-6955 or online at http://www.AdventistBookCenter.com

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When Queen Victoria had just ascended her throne, she went, as is the custom of royalty, to hear “Messiah” rendered. She had been instructed as to her conduct by those who knew, and was told that she must not rise when the others stood at the singing of the “Hallelujah Chorus.”

When the magnificent chorus was being sung and the singers were shouting, “Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah! For the Lord God omnipotent reigneth,” she sat with great difficulty. It seemed as if she would rise in spite of the custom of kings and queens, but finally when they came to that part of the chorus where with a shout they proclaimed Him King of kings, suddenly the young queen rose and stood with bowed head, as if she would take her own crown from off her head and cast it at His feet.

Let us make Him King and every day be loyal to Him. This is the secret of peace.—By J. Wilbur Chapman, Signs of the Times, December 1988.

Quote: “The true Christian is like the sun, which pursues its noiseless course, and everywhere leaves the effect of its beams in blessings upon the world around him.”—Unknown, Signs of the Times, July 4, 1939.

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Read the first chapter of this book online at http://www.AdventistBookCenter.com Order online or from your local Adventist Book Center--1-800-765-6955.

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Many years ago a man from another state was driving his old-fashioned four-wheeled carriage along a road in Maine. He stopped a local farmer coming from the opposite direction and asked, “Say, man, is there no end to this long hill? I’ve been driving upwards for nigh unto an hour.”

“Hill, stranger!” replied the farmer, with amusement. “You ain’t going up no hill. Your hind wheels are off!”

We smile as we think of this poor fellow barely dragging along the road, completely unaware that his hind wheels had fallen off. But in a way we do the same thing. We labor under strain and stress. Without God life is an uphill struggle. We make our lives miserable for want of the one supreme person who will enrich everything.

Yes, what we need more than anything else is God. Then let us make Him today and every day the center and circumference of life—the end of our quest.—By Walter Raymond Beach, These Times, November 1964.

Quote: “Let us endeavor to live so that, when we come to die, even the undertaker will be sorry.”—By Mark Twain, These Times, August 1964.

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Dr. Guthrie once told the following story: “One of our boys, a very little fellow, but uncommonly smart, entered the lists and carried off a prize against the whole of England and Scotland, by his answer to the question: ‘Can you give the history of the apostle Paul in thirty words?’

“His answer was, ‘Paul was born at Tarsus, and brought up at Jerusalem; he continued a persecutor until his conversion, after which he became a follower of Christ, for whose sake he died.’ “—Dr. Guthrie, Signs of the Times, June 29, 1888.

Quote: “Most of the grand truths of God have to be burned into us by the hot iron of affliction.”—Unknown, Signs of the Times, January 25, 1883.

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“If you were permitted to speak only one sentence, what would you say?”

That was the question put to me last May. I was in Sweden, attending a Christian youth camp by a picturesque lake. The water was deep and cold, evergreens peopled the surrounding hills, splashes of purple, yellow, and white of the first flowers highlighted the startling green of a Swedish spring. Invited to speak to the group, about 150-strong, I had already addressed them three times, with one meeting still to come.

Now it was Saturday evening, and we were in line for supper. A blue-eyed, flaxen-haired girl, perhaps eighteen years old, came up to me. After I greeted her, she looked me straight in the eye and put her question with inescapable directness: “If you were permitted to speak only one sentence, what would you say?”

Over the course of twenty years of teaching and public speaking, I have faced many questions. This was a new one, however! And its disarming simplicity and the intense expectancy of its framer left me no choice. Why did she ask? Had she thought I had been multiplying words? I could not stall for time. No chance to hedge, no mumbled rejoinder, no fleeing to books or solitude to seek a reply—not when you have been fixed by the eye of an eighteen-year-old interrogator. Only an answer as sincere and direct as the question would do.

And so I replied, “If I could speak only one sentence, I would say. . .”

Before I tell you what I said, think of what you would answer. Remember, you have no time to consider and no way to hedge. What do you think is the most significant sentence in the world?

Think how single sentences have shaped events in the past. Many of them have been only one-liners:

“We have not yet begun to fight!”

“Remember the Maine!”

“England expects that every man will do his duty.”

“I have nothing to offer but blood, toil, tears, and sweat.”

“Ask not what your country can do for you but what you can do for your country.”

No doubt the reply you would give will vary with the circumstances surrounding the question. While you reflect on your answer, let me give you mine: “If I could speak only one sentence, I would say: ‘God is love.’ “—By William G. Johnsson, These Times, November 1980.

Quote: “The truly illustrious are they who do not court the praise of the world, but perform the actions which deserve it.”—By George Henry Tilton, These Times, July 1965.

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Compiled by Dale Galusha. Please pass this newsletter on to others. If this FREE newsletter was forwarded to you by a friend, and you would like to receive it directly on a monthly basis, email: join-signsnews@lyra.pacificpress.com