December 2010 Signs of the Times Email Newsletter

[Stan]

December 2010 Signs of the Times Email Newsletter

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

***************************

This story from These Times is longer than the usual stories we offer—but the message of Christmas hope is powerful!

I remember a day one winter that stands out like a boulder in my life. The weather was unusually cold, our salary had not been regularly paid, and it did not meet our needs when it was.

My husband was away much of the time, traveling from one district to another. Our boys were well, but little Ruth was ailing, and at best none of us was decently clothed. I patched and re-patched, with spirits sinking to the lowest ebb. The water gave out in the well, and the wind blew through cracks in the floors.

The people in the parish were kind, and generous, too; but the settlement was new, and each family was struggling for itself. Little by little, at the time I needed it most, my faith began to waver.

Early in life I was taught to take God at His word, and I thought my lesson was well learned. I had lived upon the promises in dark times until I knew, as David did, who was “my fortress, and my deliverer.”

My husband’s overcoat was hardly thick enough for December, and he was often obliged to ride miles to attend some meeting or funeral. Many times our breakfast was Indian cake and tea.

Christmas was coming; the children always expected their presents. I remember the ice was thick and smooth, and the boys were each craving a pair of skates. Ruth, in some unaccountable way, had taken a fancy that the dolls I had made were no longer suitable; she wanted a nice large one, and insisted on praying for it.

I knew it seemed impossible, but oh! I wanted to give each child its present. It seemed as if God had deserted us, but I did not tell my husband all this. He worked so earnestly and heartily. I supposed him to be as hopeful as ever. I kept the sitting room cheerful with an open fire, and tried to serve our scanty meals as invitingly as I could.

The morning before Christmas, James was called to see a sick man. I put up a piece of bread for his lunch—it was the best I could do—wrapped my plaid shawl around his neck and then tried to whisper a promise as I often had, but the words died away upon my lips. I let him go without it.

That was a dark, hopeless day. I coaxed the children to bed early, for I could not bear their talk. When Ruth retired, I had listened to her prayer. She asked for the last time most explicitly for her doll, and for skates for her brothers. Her bright face looked so lovely when she whispered to me, “You know, I think they’ll be here early tomorrow morning, Momma,” that I wished I could move heaven and earth to save her from disappointment. I sat down alone and gave way to the most bitter tears.

Before long James returned, chilled and exhausted. He drew off his boots; the thin stockings slipped off with them, and his feet were red and cold. “I wouldn’t treat a dog that way; let alone a faithful servant,” I said. Then as I glanced up and saw the hard lines of his face and the look of despair, it flashed across me, James had let go, too.

I brought him a cup of tea, feeling sick and dizzy at the very thought. He took my hand, and we sat for an hour without a word. I wanted to confront God and tell Him His promise wasn’t true; my soul was so full of rebellious despair.

There came a sound of bells, a quick stop, and a loud knock at the door. James sprang up to open it. There stood Deacon White. “A box came by express just before dark. I brought it around as soon as I could get away. Reckon it might be for Christmas. ‘At any rate,’ I said, ‘they shall have it tonight.’ Here is a turkey my wife asked me to fetch along, and these other things, I believe, belong to you.”

There was a basket of potatoes and a bag of flour. Talking all the time, he carried in the box, and then, with a hearty good night, he rode away.

Still without speaking, James found a chisel and opened the box. He drew out first a thick, red blanket, and saw that beneath was full of clothing. It seemed at that moment as if Christ fastened upon me a look of reproach. James sat down and covered his face with his hands. “I can’t touch them,” he exclaimed. “I haven’t been true, just when God was trying me to see if I could hold out. Do you think I could not see how you were suffering? And I had no word of comfort to offer. I know how to preach the awfulness of turning away from God.”

“James,” I said, clinging to him, “don’t take it to heart like this; I’m to blame. I ought to have helped you. We’ll ask Him together to forgive us.”

“Wait a moment, dear, I cannot talk now,” he said and left the room. I knelt down, and my heart broke; in an instant all the darkness, all the stubbornness rolled away. Jesus came again with the loving word, “Daughter!”

Sweet promises of tenderness and joy flooded my soul. I was so lost in praise and gratitude that I forgot everything else. I don’t know how long it was before James came back, but I knew he, too, had found peace.

“Now, my dear wife,” he said, “let us thank God together”; and he poured out Bible words of praise, for nothing else could express our thanksgiving.

It was eleven o’clock, the fire was low, and there was the great box, and nothing touched but the warm blanket we needed. We piled on some fresh logs, lighted candles, and began to examine our treasures.

We drew out an overcoat; I made James try it on; just the right size, and I danced around him, for all my lightheartedness had returned. Then there was a cloak, and he insisted on seeing me in it. My spirits always infected him, and we both laughed like foolish children.

There was a warm suit of clothes also, and three pairs of woolen hose. There was a dress for me, and yards of flannel, a pair of arctic overshoes for each of us, and in mine was a slip of paper. I have it now, and mean to hand it down to my children. It was Jacob’s blessing to Asher: “Thy shoes shall be iron and brass; and as thy days, so shall thy strength be.” In the gloves, evidently for James, the same clear hand had written, “I the Lord thy God will hold thy right hand, saying unto thee, Fear not; I will help thee.”

It was a wonderful box and packed with thoughtful care. There was a suit of clothes for each of the boys, and a little red gown for Ruth. There were mittens, scarves, and hoods; and down in the center, a box. We opened it, and there was a great waxed doll. I burst into tears again; James wept with me for joy. It was too much, and then we both exclaimed again, for close behind it came two pairs of skates. There were books for us to read—some of them I had wished to see—stories for the children to read; aprons, and underclothing, knots of ribbon, a gay little tidy, a lovely phonograph, needles, buttons and thread, a muff, and an envelope containing a ten-dollar gold piece.

At last we cried over everything we took up. It was past midnight, and we were faint and exhausted even with happiness. I made a cup of tea, cut a fresh loaf of bread, and James boiled some eggs. We pulled the table before the fire; how we enjoyed our supper! And then we sat talking over our life and how sure a help God always provided.

You should have seen the children the next morning! The boys raised a shout at the sight of their skates; Ruth caught up her doll and hugged it tightly without a word, then she went into her room and knelt by her bed.

When she came back, she whispered to me, “I knew it would be there, Momma, but I wanted to thank God just the same, you know.”

“Look, here, wife, see the difference?”

We went to the window, and there were the boys out of the house already, and skating on the ice with all their might.

My husband and I both tried to return thanks to the church in the East that had sent us the box and have tried to return thanks unto God every day since.

Hard times have come again and again, but we have trusted in Him, dreading nothing so much as a doubt of His protecting care. Over and over again we have proved that “they that seek the Lord shall not want any good thing.”—From a pastor’s wife, These Times, December 1980.

Quote: “Men think that God is destroying them because He is tuning them. The violinist screws up the key till the tense cord sounds the concert pitch; but it is not to break it, but to use it tunefully, that he stretches the string upon the musical rack.”—By Henry Ward Beecher, These Times, October 1953.

***************************

Don't miss the January 2011 issue of Signs of the Times: “Does Prayer Make a Difference?” “The Secret Rapture, Is It Real?” “The Lord’s Supper,” “Discovering the Book” and other important articles. To order Signs, call: 1-800-765-6955 or online at www.pacificpress.com/signs

***************************

“The greatest of these is love.” A worker in the Manchester slums tells the story of a whole family completely changed by the presence of a deformed child. The father was a rude, working man, the boys were coarse and uncouth, and the mother, overworked and far from strong, had fallen into untidy habits. But there was born into that home a crippled child, and that deformed baby was the means of drawing out the sympathy, and love, and tenderness of the whole family.

The man nursed and petted his child in the evenings; the boys made playthings for her, and showed their affection in all sorts of pleasant ways; the mother kept the window clean, that her child, pillowed on the table, might look out on the court. The visitor declared that she witnessed a complete transformation in the family, an elevating and refining process went right through the whole household. Surely, love is the great transformer.—From S. S. Times, Signs of the Times, March 4, 1903.

Quote: “Wealth consists not in having great possessions but in having few wants.”—By Epicurus, Signs of the Times, March 5, 1885.

***************************

NEW from Pacific Press—Revive Us Again by Mark A. Finley. In Revive Us Again, Pastor Mark Finley invites you to prayerfully open your heart and mind. Revival always begins with one man, one woman, one boy, or one girl on his or her knees, seeking God. You can be that one person who is used of God to bring the outpouring of the Holy Spirit on your home, your church, and your world. As you read these pages, may the prayer of your heart be, “Lord, revive us again.”

Read the first chapter of this book online at http://www.adventistbookcenter.com/Detail.tpl?sku=0816324506 Order online or from your local Adventist Book Center--1-800-765-6955.

***************************

It was a fascinating news program. An ape and a man each sought to predict the ups and downs of the stock market! The chimp, of course, used random guesswork, while the man—a top expert in market forecasting—utilized all his sophisticated formulas, complex computers, and hard-earned professional insight.

The conclusion: After months of experimenting, the chimp was significantly ahead. He was doing better than the “expert.” The moral: Predicting the future is difficult; it is humanly impossible.—By George R. Knight, Signs of the Times, December 1997.

Quote: “The light that shines farthest shines brightest nearest home.”--By Charles G. Bellah, Signs of the Times, May 6, 1930.

***************************

Place this in your church bulletin or newsletter: Signs of the Times is a clear and consistent witness. Your friends and neighbors will be inspired with its timely articles! Send a subscription today. Order from your Adventist Book Center. To order call: 1-800-765-6955 or online at: www.pacificpress.com/signs

***************************

A promising young man campaigned for the legislature in Illinois but sustained a humiliating defeat. Undaunted, he plunged into business, only to go bankrupt, spending the next fifteen years slowly and painfully paying off debts incurred by his shiftless partner.

A beautiful young lady he loved and planned to marry offered the one redeeming feature of his life. Then she contracted malarial fever and died. Finally savoring nominal success in state politics, he ambitiously sought a congressional seat, but to no avail. Triumphing in a second attempt, he helplessly watched his support erode when no one seemed satisfied with his brand of statesmanship. He left Washington after only two years.

Entering the U.S. senatorial race about five years later, he plummeted to defeat. A second effort likewise brought disaster. But he refused to capitulate to Fate’s whims. Casting defeat behind, counting on his instincts, he surged forward. He knew he would ultimately win the day.

His name? Abraham Lincoln. He became our greatest President.—By Jerry Gladson, These Times, December 1980.

Quote: “Little acts are the elements of true greatness.”—By H.E.S. Hopkins, Signs of the Times, June 13, 1900.

***************************

Share the story of Christmas with your friends this holiday season. “Heaven’s Most Precious Gift”—a Signs of the Times special, is available for you to give to friends and family. Order from your Adventist Book Center: http://www.adventistbookcenter.com/Detail.tpl?sku=4333003812

***************************

Twelve thousand feet above Phoenix, Arizona, Debbie Williams and a half-dozen friends dived through the open door of an airplane into the clear blue sky. These experienced sky divers planned to link into a midair formation.

A few seconds into her free fall, Debbie went into a fast dive to catch up with those below her. But she miscalculated and slammed into another diver. The 50-mile-per-hour impact knocked her unconscious. She plummeted toward earth with her parachute unopened.

Jumpmaster Gregory Robertson forced his body into a “no-lift” dive: head tucked into his chest, toes pointed, and arms flat at his sides. Reaching the speed of 180 miles per hour, he caught up with Debbie, grabbed her reserve cord, and yanked it hard. Her chute opened, and she drifted slowly to the ground.

We’re rushing headlong toward an impact with the end time, and a lot of people are unconscious; they don’t realize that the horizon is rushing up to meet them. But God has planned a midair rescue. It’s described in Revelation, the last book of the Bible.—By Mark Finley, Signs of the Times, July 2003.

Quote: “We are getting too far away from facts nowadays, and too much into the realm of myths and notions. ‘Every eye shall see Him;’ in this there shall be no delusion. Note well that He is to be seen of all kinds of living men; every eye shall see Him: the king and the peasant, the most learned and the most ignorant.”—By Charles Spurgeon, Our Times, May 1947.

***************************

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

[rudywoofs (Pam)]

Stan, ... that was a great read..