December 2015 Signs of the Times Newsletter

December 3, 2015

December 2015 Signs of the Times Email Newsletter

The Signs of the Times newsletter is a collection of stories and quotes from past issues ofSigns and These Times.
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     It was a simple scene. A kindly old man. A plain old desk. Four reference books open to the light of an old-fashioned lamp. And to his left, a tiny flame flickering above the darkening embers on a stone hearth.
     “I am in my sixty-eighth year,” he murmured, laying his glasses aside. “I have been a member of the church since I was fifteen. I have sensed this thing, for a long time. I have spoken of it many times. Casually. Superficially. Never before have I seen it so clearly. Never in my life has it been so overwhelming.”
     He turned slowly to the fire. “Our language,” he went on with his musing, “is totally inadequate to express the love of God. Totally inadequate and utterly helpless. So much so that it is virtually dead. So are the Greek and Hebrew. So also every other language of men, ancient or modern.”
     He sat for a time in silent wonder. “How much of God’s love can sinful, ignorant men comprehend in such terms as ‘attachment,’ ‘affection,’ ‘attraction’? Not very much. Tellingus was not enough. God had to do something else. He had to show us.”
     God has done everything possible to make Himself known. . . He sent His Son so that we could look at Him and see at last!—By Sanford T. Whitman, Signs of the Times, December 1973.

Quote: “Be not a shooting meteor that dazzles the earth with brightness for a moment, and then falls a cumbrance to the ground; but be a twinkling star deeply set to heaven’s blue, that shines through storm and sunshine, through cold and heat, day and night the same.”—By Kenneth Gant, Signs of the Times, September 25, 1917.

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     A little girl and her mother were passing a shop window. It was just before Christmas, and the window was decorated to represent a stable. The familiar scene was complete with plastic oxen, mother and Child, angels and kneeling shepherds. In the background were the three Magi on camels.
     The little girl was heard to say indignantly to her mother, “Mummy, don’t tell me they are bringing religion into Christmas now!”
     This year, when again we are tempted to let the glamour of Christmas rob us of its glory, let us remember the quipster’s definition of glamour: “The condition that exists when the value of the package exceeds the value of the contents.” The true value of the genuine content of Christmas is, of course, by our attitudes toward them. And if we attach more importance to the gaudy trappings of Christmas than to the significant fact that “God so loved. . . that He gave” to the world its first and greatest Christmas present, Jesus Christ, we have hidden the glory of Christmas behind its glamour.—By Kenneth W. Sollitt, These Times, December 1962.

Quote: “Those who do not read can have nothing to think and little to say.”—By Dr. Samuel Johnson, These Times, December 1965.

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NEW from Pacific Press—40 Days: Prayers and Devotions Reflecting on the Cross of Christ by Dennis Smith. The cross of Christ is the greatest revelation of love that ever has, and that ever will be, exhibited in this universe. A love that led our Creator to step down from His throne in heaven, become one of us, and die so our sins can be forgiven. In book five of this series, author Dennis Smith challenges readers to spend forty days reflecting on the cross of Christ and to discover anew that the cross of Christ is some to glory in, to rejoice in, and to proclaim to the world!

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     An old man told me the following incident, which had occurred in his youth and which, he said, had colored his way of thinking for the remainder of his life.
     “I was traveling around the country in search of some ‘local color and characters’ for the book I planned to write. My characters were to represent an indolent, shiftless people whom I could see in my mind, but whose existence needed to be authenticated. After some days I found myself in a backwoods area which was just what I had dreamed it would be—complete as to ‘color’—the run-down farms, the seedy men, the washed-out women. Now there remained only for me to find the one character who would epitomize the indolence and spiritlessness of the community.
     “Suddenly I came upon him; he had been made to order. He was a white-bearded old man in a faded blue shirt and overalls. He was hoeing around a little patch of potatoes in a scrubby backyard garden—while sitting in a chair.
     “I was elated. My eye, trained for detail, took in the whole scene: the unpainted shack, the sagging door, the broken wooden steps of the porch. Here was my background complete, and in the foreground my ‘character’ sitting down to hoe his garden.
    “I started back to the rooming house where I had put up for a few days; my fingers were itching to get at my typewriter keys. As I made the turn in the dirt road which ran past the cabin, I turned to look back, to see the scene from another angle.
     “When I did so, I saw something that stopped me cold in my tracks. For from this side I observed, leaning against the chair, a pair of crutches, while one empty overall leg hung limply to the ground.
     “In that instant the shiftless, lazy ‘character’ I had been looking for was transformed into one of dauntless courage.
     “Since that hour I have never made a judgment of any man after only one look at him, or one conversation with him. For I know that often the second look, the second word, may prove the folly of so doing.
     “And I thank God because on that day so many years ago I turned for the ‘second look.’”—By Marjorie Spiller Neagle, These Times, September 1962.

Quote: “The ladder of life is full of splinters, but the splinters prick us only when we’re sliding down.”—Unknown, These Times, December 1962.

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     A number of years ago a man named Luther Warren, a mighty power in the pulpit, was invited to give a series of lectures in Jamaica. A large hall was rented in the city of Kingston, and young ministers for miles around were invited in to watch this man in action.
     On the first night the hall was crowded. The young ministers were there in the front seats. Luther Warren stepped to the desk.
     But something strange happened. In a few minutes he had covered his announced subject and turned to another. Then another. He had left introductory truth behind and had turned to the most vital issues that claim man’s attention in this last hour. He talked of obedience. He talked of judgment. He talked of decision. As those who had sponsored him watched in amazement from the back of the auditorium, he invited men and women to step to the altar in complete commitment. And the people surged forward under the power of deep conviction.
     Why had he preached as he did? Why had he touched every challenging truth in one night? No one knew. Luther Warren himself did not know.
     But the next morning they all knew. For a large part of Kingston lay in ruins at the hand of the great earthquake. There had been only one night.
      I ask you, isn’t it just like God to send a last warning message?—By Marjorie Lewis Lloyd, These Times, May 1964.

Quote: “Death takes no bribes.”—By Benjamin Franklin, These Times, June 1974.

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Are you looking for inspiring Christmas stories? Christmas in My Heart, Vol 24 by Dr. Joe Wheeler is now available. CLICK to read the first story FREE online!

Order from your Adventist Book Center: ONLINE or call 1-800-765-6955.
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     Someone asked Dwight Moody, “How is it you can preach so mightily as to lead people out of darkness into light? I should think it would get to be an old story to you.”
     Mr. Moody was about sixty-two years old. His heart was failing fast, and his life work was nearly over. The doctors had told him: “Mr. Moody, your heart will never hold out for another campaign.”
     But he went out to Kansas City, and said: “I want to make one more attempt for the Lord Jesus Christ, anyway.”
     Someone asked him, “Why is it that you can’t stop? What gives you such a mighty earnestness for souls?”
     He said: “I am grieved for lost souls, and the words of Jesus Christ, ‘I am coming back again,’ give me power to tell the story with greater earnestness than ever before, every time I tell it.” And one day, while holding his last mighty effort, he fell back in a faint, and they carried him home to Norfield, dead.—By Charles T. Everson, Signs of the Times, May 1925.

Quote: “When Christians grow in light and knowledge faster than they grow in love and humility, they necessarily become harsh and censorious. They have more sail than ballast. Knowledge is dangerous unless it is well seasoned with humility.”—From Herald of Light, Signs of the Times, August 29, 1911.

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     Thomas Henry Huxley, agnostic and English biologist, was leaving a Dublin hotel to catch a train. He ordered one of the jaunting coaches for which Ireland was famous, and thinking that the hotel clerk must have told the driver his destination, he directed the man at the reins to drive fast.
    After some time, the old professor realized that they were heading away from the station. “Do you know where you are going?” asked Huxley.
     “No your honor,” the driver replied; “but I am driving fast.”
     That just about sums up our time. Men and women everywhere are running fast, not knowing where they are going.—By John M. Fowler, These Times, September 1973.

Quote: “Kindness is the only service that will stand the storms of life and will not wash out. It will wear well, look well, and be remembered long after the prism of politeness of the complexion of courtesy has faded away. When I am gone, I hope it can be said of me that I plucked a thistle and planted a flower wherever I thought a flower would grow.”—By Abraham Lincoln, These Times, August 1961.

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To get his goodnight kiss he stood
     Beside my chair one night
And raised an eager face to me,
     A face with love alight.
And as I gathered in my arms
     The son God gave to me,
I thanked the lad for being good,
     And hoped he’d always be.
His little arms crept around my neck,
     And then I heard him say
Four simple words I can’t forget—
     Four words that made me pray.
They turned a mirror on my soul,
     On secrets no one knew.
They startled me, I hear them yet:
     He said, “I’ll be like you!”—Unknown, These Times, June 1979.

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Compiled by Dale Galusha. Please pass this newsletter on to others.