Sam Duncan lay in the semi-darkness of his nursing home room performing the only two activities of which he still considered himself capable: watching and waiting. Although his eyesight was dim, he could still make out the steady brightening of the light of dawn through the window next to his bed. And although his hearing was too far gone to catch the rumble of the medicine cart, as it worked its way up the hall toward his room, he could sense that the time for his morning pills was near. He waited for the nurse to push open the door and greet him and his roommate Arthur, who was still snoring loudly in the bed next to his.

Most of the accepted measures of quality of human existence no longer affected Sam. While time, in terms of years, seemed to slip away unnoticed, the hours of the day crept by in agonizing slowness. Time no longer meant anything to him. Schedules all belonged to the nurses and aides and family members who waited on him. He himself had no claim to time. The staff dieticians and cooks decided what he would eat, and when. The aides assigned to care for him on any given day decided when he would be bathed, dressed, shaved, and even toileted. His family decided what clothes he needed, what treats to bring to him, and when he should go out. The activity director decided when he needed exercise, stimulation and entertainment, and he was delivered into her hands by the aides upon request.

There were few days when Sam could tell you what had occurred the day before, or even the hour before. He had little memory for what he had eaten for dinner Tuesday or breakfast Saturday. He seldom knew the day of the week or the correct month, although seasons were still instinctively evident. The minutia of every day had ceased to have meaning for him even before his nursing home days had begun ten years earlier, and he felt no concern or remorse over loss of interest in such trivia. But if you asked him if he remembered Pearl Harbor, or the day Franklin Roosevelt died, or what he was doing the day JFK was assassinated, he could tell you with detailed clarity what had gone on. He recalled vividly his wedding day, the day he and Martha buried their firstborn infant son, the details of the funeral of his grandson Sam who was killed in Vietnam, and what the weather was like on the day Martha died.

Sam also remembered the friends who had been most dear to him. They had all been gone for many years: Boots Martin, who had served with him in Germany in WW I; Alvy Hankins, who had gone to school with him and farmed outside of town; Dick Travis, who had been his business partner for nearly forty years ... all dead and buried long ago. It hadn't seemed unnatural that he had outlived them all, just part of life. But when he had outlived all of his children, the burden of life had become heavy, cumbersome. And now, at 102, it was nearly unbearable.

Sam had never been a complainer. Life was what it was. He didn't second-guess nature or the Creator. When he and Martha lost that first baby son, they had grieved and comforted one another, and eventually gone on with their lives. And God had blessed them with six healthy children who had survived well into old age. The death and destruction he had seen in the trenches during "the war to end all wars" was etched in his memory for all time, and yet he had survived it, both physically and emotionally. But when his grandson, young Samuel Wilks Duncan III, had been killed in Vietnam at the tender age of nineteen, it had taken much prayer and effort to overcome his sense of anger and grief. And when Martha died in 1989, at the ripe old age of ninety, and his own heart beat on strong and steady, even though he knew it was broken, he had shaken a mental fist at God and demanded to know why. Why must he be left to bear the burdens of life alone? At 93, why couldn't he go home, too?

That had been ten years ago. Ten years of slowly declining health, gradual loss of sight, hearing, movement and body function. Ten years of being taken here and there, regardless of his own wishes, by those whose job it was to provide him with comfort, stimulation, and quality of life. His grandchildren became so busy with their own lives that they seldom visited. And when his last surviving daughter had died of cancer last year at the age of 75, Sam couldn't help but wonder if God was allowing him to be put to the test, as he did Job. He felt very keenly the truth of Jesus' words in the Gospel of John:

... when you were younger, you used to fasten your own belt and go wherever you wished. But when you grow old, you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will fasten a belt around you and take you where you do not wish to go.

And so Sam had formed a mental list of Psalms from which to pray in all of his various moods:

How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me? How long must I bear pain in my soul, and have sorrow in my heart all day long? -- Psalm 13:1-2

My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? Why are you so far from helping me, from the words of my groaning? Oh my God, I cry by day, but you do not answer; and by night, but find no rest.  -- Psalm 22:1-2

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil; for you are with me; your rod and your staff -- they comfort me. -- Psalm 23:4

As a deer longs for flowing streams, so my soul longs for you, O God. -- Psalm 42:1

Do not cast me off in the time of old age; do not forsake me when my strength is spent. For my enemies speak concerning me, and those who watch for my life consult together. -- Psalm 71:9-10

Sing praises to the Lord, O you his faithful ones, and give thanks to his holy name. For his anger is but for a moment; his favor is for a lifetime. Weeping may linger for the night, but joy comes with the morning. -- Psalm 30:4-5

Joy comes with the morning ... Sam's litany came to an end as the nurse pushed through the door with the medications.

"Good morning, Sam. Wake up, Arthur! It's time for your pills. It's a special day, Sam. Do you remember what day it is?"

"I don't know. Tuesday, maybe?"

"No, Saturday. You're going to have a lot of company today. This is your birthday, Sam. Do you remember how old you are today."

"I guess I'd be about 103."

"That's right. One hundred and three years old. Everyone is coming for your birthday party today. All of your grandchildren and great-grandchildren, and I've heard you even have a couple of great-great grandsons."

"I think they even named one of them after me."

"Well, April will be in in another hour or so to give you your breakfast and bath. When you're all dressed and ready, we'll take some pictures with all of your friends. Happy Birthday, Sam!"

One hundred and three. As he swallowed his pills, Sam's mind drifted back to the lighthearted days of his youth, when he and his friends used to say things like, "I'll never understand that if I live to be a hundred." Things don't really change, Sam thought. I've lived to be more than a hundred, and there are so many things I still don't understand. "Do not cast me off in the time of old age." "Weeping may linger with the night, but joy comes in the morning." Sam sighed and laid back to watch and wait.

Until Jesus Christ permeates every fiber of our being, we can never begin to appreciate the power and potentiality available in us. We continue to doubt whether we can do this or that or be what we want to be. Yet, God wants us to reach the heights of our created potential. God wants us to develop a faith that can handle both problems and opportunities. He desires that we capture his vision of our worth and our latent abilities.

Some time ago I saw the play Man of La Mancha. I believe it illustrates what I am saying. The man of La Mancha comes to a wayside inn. Here the camel drivers stop. He sees Aldonza, the waitress, there. She is also the local prostitute. Aldonza is dirty and smells from perspiration. "Ho, my lady. You will be my lady ... every knight needs a lady, and you will be my lady. And I will give you a new name, it will no longer be Aldonza but Dulcinea." She looks at him in amazement. "Me, your lady, ha!" she kicks up her heels, grabs a sack of money out of his hand, runs off the stage. Every time the man of La Mancha sees her, he says, "You are a lady, you have a new name. I have given it to you. It is Dulcinea."

The curtain opens on another scene ... the stage is empty. It’s night. Suddenly Aldonza comes on stage. Her hair is disheveled; she has blood and dirt and mud on her; her skirt is torn. She’s been raped. Hysterical, she runs confused and crying to the middle of the stage. Off to the side enters the man of La Mancha. When he sees her, he says, "Ho, my lady." To which she replies, "Don’t call me a lady. Look at me; I was born in a ditch; my mother left me naked and cold and too hungry to cry. I never blamed her; I’m sure she left hoping I would have the good sense to die. Ah ... look at me, I’m no lady, I’m only a kitchen slut, reeking with sweat, a strumpet men use and forget. Oh God, I am no lady; I am only Aldonza. I am nothing at all." Then she runs away and is gone.

And now it is the last scene. The man of La Mancha, like Jesus of Nazareth, has been despised, rejected by men, a man of sorrow, acquainted with grief. He is dying, like our Lord, from a broken heart. While on his deathbed, a courtly woman comes to his side. She has a beautiful mantilla which covers her modestly. She kneels beside him and says, "My lord, my lord."

Through a haze he looks at her and asks, "Who are you?"

"My lord, look, don’t you remember? Try to remember, my lord. You sang the song, remember ... to dream the impossible dream, to fight the unbeatablc foe. My lord you gave me a new name. You called me your lady."

And through eyes clouded with death he recognizes her and says, "Dulcinea," and he dies.

God has given all of us great potential. He believes in us and wants to help us lead full and useful lives. We need to join God in his faith in us. An ever-deepening faith in Jesus Christ is the best way to accomplish this. Come, Lord Jesus, be our guest and bless us with a doubt-cleansing faith, a possibility - expanding faith, a faith that opens up our great potential.

I am the Church. Most of you associate me with steeples and stained glass windows. And in one sense, you are right. One of the ways I can be described is by my individual architectural style. I am usually constructed with the finest materials, and my cost per square foot is often quite high. I think this is appropriate because I make a visible statement to the world about the feelings of my members towards the Lord. I am a visible witness to the community. When I am allowed to look run-down, my appearance reflects how you feel about me.

Although many folks see me mainly as a building, this is only a small part of my personality. For the most part, I am people, people like you who are reading this message. I am the people of God who believe in the Lord Jesus Christ and are baptized. Each believer is part of me ... a little me, a little church. In the same way that the building part of me gives an image to the community, the people part of who I am makes a statement to the community also. We reflect God’s importance and love to the community we serve.

Because of the inability to understand clearly what God teaches in the Bible about what we should believe and how we should be in ministry, there are many denominations that make me up. This hurts me. It hurts me because God wants us all to be one. It hurts me because the non-believing world looks at our division and finds fault with us. This makes it harder for them to become one of us. It hurts me because we are also weakened through division. I am the Church, and for my sake, I hope each of you will pray that there will be greater understanding, acceptance, working together, and unity among all Christians.

There is another most important thing that I want to talk about. My cornerstone must always be the Lord Jesus Christ. Jesus said to the apostle Peter that his confession of faith in him was the strong foundation upon which the church must be built. When it is built on Jesus, not even the gates of hell can destroy it. Don’t forget your cornerstone. This is another way of my telling you not to forget your central purpose for being the church. I am the Church and my central, most important function is to share with my members and the world that God is in love with all people and desires their salvation. This can only happen when people recognize their sinfulness, repent, and receive Jesus Christ as the cornerstone of their personal lives. When this happens, God looks at them and no longer sees their sin but rather sees his Son, their Savior.

I challenge each of you to seek the help of God to expand in your love for him and for one another. I challenge you to expand in your willingness to listen to one another, to accept one another, to forgive one another. I challenge you to expand your involvement with other churches and the world-wide ministry of our Lord Jesus Christ. Finally, I challenge you to expand your efforts in sharing with each other and with your community the message of God’s love through Jesus Christ. This message is the Rock upon which I am built.

In modern times we define a host of relations by contracts. These are usually for goods or services and for hard cash. The contract, formal or informal, helps to specify failure in these relationships. The Lord did not establish a contract with Israel or with the church. He created a covenant. There is a difference. Contracts are broken when one of the parties fails to keep his promise. If, let us say, a patient fails to keep an appointment with a doctor, the doctor is not obligated to call the house and inquire, "Where were you? Why didn't you show up for your appointment?" He simply goes on to his next patient and has his appointment secretary take note of the patient who failed to keep the appointment. The patient may find it harder the next time to see the doctor. He broke an informal contract.

According to the Bible, however, the Lord asks: "Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has borne? Though she may forget, I will not forget you!" (Isaiah 49:15) The Bible indicates the covenant is more like the ties of a parent to her child than it is a doctor's appointment. If a child fails to show up for dinner, the parent's obligation, unlike the doctor's, isn't canceled. The parent finds out where the child is and makes sure he's cared for. One member's failure does not destroy the relationship. A covenant puts no conditions on faithfulness. It is the unconditional commitment to love and serve.

In 1970, a man by the name of Malcolm Muggeridge went to Calcutta to do a special documentary on Mother Teresa for BBC-TV. Muggeridge then was Europe's Tom Brokaw.

Well, on that fated morning of their meeting (a morning that would change him the him for the rest of his life) he met her as she was working out in the streets with sick and poor people in a ghetto like he had never seen before, amid stench, filth, garbage, disease, and poverty that was just unbelievable. But what struck Muggeridge more than anything else, even there in that awful squalor and decadence, was the deep, warm glow on Mother Teresa's face and the deep, warm love in her eyes.

"Do you do this every day?" he began his interview.

"Oh, yes," she replied, "it is my mission. It is how I serve and love my Lord."

"How long have you been doing this? How many months?"

"Months?" said Mother Teresa.

"Not months, but years. Maybe eighteen years.

"Eighteen years!" exclaimed Muggeridge. "You've been working here in these streets for eighteen years?"

"Yes," she said simply and yet joyfully. "It is my privilege to be here. These are my people. These are the ones my Lord has given me to love."

"Do you ever get tired? Do you ever feel like quitting and letting someone else take over your ministry? After all, you are beginning to get older."

"Oh, no," she replied, "this is where the Lord wants me, and this is where I am happy to be. I feel young when I am here. The Lord is so good to me. How privileged I am to serve him."

Later, Malcolm Muggeridge said, "I will never forget that little lady as long as I live. The face, the glow, the eyes, the love—it was all so pure and so beautiful. I shall never forget it. It was like being in the presence of an angel. It changed my life. I have not been the same person since. It is more than I can describe." By the way, after Malcolm Muggeridge made those comments, Mother Teresa continued to serve in that sacrificial way until the end of her life nearly twenty-seven more years.

Obviously, we can't all be Mother Teresa, but we can all live in that spirit. In our own ways, we can all learn to give.

Out of parental concern and a desire to teach our young son responsibility, we require him to phone home when he arrives at his friend's house a few blocks away. He began to forget, however, as he grew more confident in his ability to get there without disaster befalling him. The first time he forgot, I called to be sure he had arrived. We told him the next time it happened, he would have to come home. A few days later, however, the telephone again lay silent, and I knew if he was going to learn, he would have to be punished. But I did not want to punish him. I went to the telephone, regretting that his great time would be spoiled by his lack of contact with his father. As I dialed, I prayed for wisdom. "Treat him like I treat you," the Lord seemed to say. With that, as the telephone rang one time, I hung up. A few seconds later the phone rang, and it was my son.

"I'm here, Dad!"

"What took you so long to call?" I asked.

"We started playing and I forgot. But Dad, I heard the phone ring once and I remembered."

How often do we think of God as One who waits to punish us when we step out of line? I wonder how often he rings just once, hoping we will phone home.

A retelling of the talents parable:

Once there was a king who had three sons, each with a special talent. The first had a talent for growing fruit. The second for raising sheep. And the third for playing the violin. Once, the king had to go overseas on important business. Before departing he called his three sons together and told them he was depending on them to keep the people contented in his absence. Now for a while things went well. But then came the winter, a bitter and cruel winter it was. There was an acute shortage of firewood. Thus the first son was faced with a very difficult decision. Should he allow the people to cut down some of his beloved fruit trees for firewood? When he saw the people shivering with cold, he finally allowed them to do so. The second son was also faced with a difficult decision. Food became very scarce. Should he allow the people to kill some of his beloved sheep for food? When he saw the children crying for hunger, his heart went out to them and he allowed them to kill some of the sheep.. Thus the people had firewood for their fires, and food for their tables. Nevertheless the harsh winter continued to oppress them. Their spirits began to sag, and there was no one to cheer them up. They turned to the fiddler, but he refused to play for them. In the end things got so bad that in desperation many of them emigrated. Then one day the king arrived back home. He was terribly sad to find that many of his people had left his kingdom. He called in his three sons to give an account of what had gone wrong. The first said, "Father, I hope you won't be mad at me, but the winter was very cold and so I allowed the people to cut down some of the fruit trees for firewood." And the second son said, "Father, I hope you won't be mad with me because when food got scarce I allowed the people to kill some of my sheep." On hearing this, far from being angry, the father embraced his two sons, and told them that he was proud of them. Then the third son came forward carrying his fiddle with him. "Father", he said, "I refused to play because you weren't here to enjoy the music." "Well then", said the king, "play me a tune now because my heart is full of sorrow." The son raised the violin and bow, but found that his fingers had gone stiff from lack of exercise. No matter how hard he tried, he could not get them to move. Then the father said, "You could have cheered up the people with your music, but you refused. If the kingdom is half-empty, the fault is yours. But now you can no longer play. That will be your punishment."

Note: Some have attributed this retelling to Henry David Thoreau, but we have been unable to substatiant this.

G. K. Chesterton, the noted British poet and theologian, was a brilliant man who could think deep thoughts and express them well. However, he was also extremely absent-minded and over the years he became rather notorious for getting lost. He would just absolutely forget where he was supposed to be and what he was supposed to be doing. On one such occasion, he sent a telegram to his wife which carried these words: "Honey, seems I'm lost again. Presently, I am at Market Harborough. Where ought I to be?" As only a spouse could say it, she telegraphed back a one-word reply "HOME!"

This is precisely what this classic passage in the first chapter of Matthew does for us... it brings us home...

Home to the real meaning of Christmas

Home to the most magnificent truth in the entire Bible

Home to our Lord's greatest promise

Home to the reason we celebrate Christmas

Namely this: "GOD IS WITH US!" When we accept Christ into our lives, nothing, not even death, can separate us from God and His love. It is what Christmas is about. God is with us. The great people of faith have always claimed that promise. Just think of it:

Moses caught between the Pharaoh and the deep Red Sea in a seemingly hopeless situation believed that God was with him and he went forward and trusted God to open a way and He did!

Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego went into the fiery furnace into a seemingly hopeless situation and they trusted God to be with them and He was!

Little David stood before Goliath. What chance could a small boy with a slingshot have against this giant of a warrior? But David believed that God was with him and it made all the difference!

Now, it's interesting to note that when the writer of Matthew's gospel wanted to capture the meaning of Christmas, the meaning of the Christ event, the meaning of Jesus in a single word, he did a very wise thing. He reached back into the Old Testament, pulled out an old word, dusted it off, and used it to convey the message. The word was Emmanuel. That's what Jesus is about "His name shall be called Emmanuel" which means, "God is with us."

The impact of that Christmas promise is incredible. When you believe that, when you accept that, when you claim that promise it will absolutely change your life. Let me show you what I mean by bringing this closer to home. Let me underscore three ideas relating to this great promise of God's presence. I'm sure you will think of others, but for now please consider these. We can claim the great Christmas promise God with us...

1. When We Are Frightened.
2. When We Are Lonely.
3. When We Are in Sorrow.

Sometimes we as Christians need to stop along life's road and look back. Although it might have been winding and steep, we can see how God directed us by His faithfulness. Here's how F.E. Marsh described what the Christian can see when he looks back:

• The deliverances the Lord has wrought (Deut. 5:15).
• The way He has led (Deut. 8:2)
• The blessings He has bestowed (Deut. 32:7-12).
• The victories He has won (Deut. 11:2-7).
• The encouragements He has given (Josh. 23:14).

When we face difficulties, we sometimes forget God's past faithfulness. We see only the detours and the dangerous path. But look back and you will also see the joy of victory, the challenge of the climb, and the presence of your traveling Companion who has promised never to leave you nor forsake you.

Easter is a magnificent day! It is the most significant day of the entire year. It is a day of celebration ... the finest clothes, lilies trumpeting their beautiful fragrance, Christian fellowship, joyful greetings ... nothing can be too good. On Easter we celebrate new hope and the possibility of living life to its fullest. God is saying to us that his blessings and love are ours. Good and even great days are now possible for us with the best of days still to come in heaven.

What problems lurk in your life? Are you afraid of death? Are you afraid of life? Easter proclaims that you can be victorious over any problem that you might face. Victory can be yours by believing in Easter and by appropriating Easter into your daily life.

But what is Easter? Easter is power. The power of God released which raised a dead Son after he had been in the grave for three days. Many gravestones carry the inscription, "Here lies ...," but on Christ’s tomb are the words, "He is not here." In Joseph’s garden is history’s only empty grave. I believe Christ rose from the dead, and I believe the resurrection power of God is still being unleashed today.

God wants to resurrect us from whatever defeat is in our lives and then give us a victorious death. He wants to resurrect us from a life of loneliness and gloom into one of meaning and joy. He wants to resurrect us from a life deadened by fear to a life enlivened by confidence. He especially wants to resurrect us from our own personal death into his very own personal paradise.

So roll back the stone of any unbelief in your hearts, behold the glory of the empty tomb, and thrill to the power that can now be yours. Place your weak and trembling hand into his and say with Thomas, "My Lord and my God." Belief in Jesus and his resurrection is the key that delivers us from fear and sorrow. Jesus is the key to personal happiness, to peace, and to life everlasting. You can know this peace, you can know this joy, you can have this power, if today you will commit yourself to him, and then say with your whole heart, "I know that my Redeemer lives!"

I am the Christmas Spirit

I enter the home of poverty, causing pale-faced children to open their eyes wide, in pleased wonder.

I cause the miser's clutched hand to relax and thus paint a bright spot on his soul.

I cause the aged to renew their youth and to laugh in the old glad way.

I keep romance alive in the heart of childhood, and brighten sleep with dreams woven of magic.

I cause eager feet to climb dark stairways with filled baskets leaving behind hearts amazed at the goodness of the world.

I cause the prodigal to pause a moment on his wild, wasteful way and send to anxious love some little token that releases glad tears—tears which wash away the hard lines of sorrow.

I enter dark prison cells, reminding scarred manhood of what might have been and pointing forward to good days yet to be.

I come softly into the still white home of pain, and lips that are too weak to speak just tremble in silent, eloquent gratitude.

In a thousand ways, I cause the weary world to look up into the face of God, and for a little moment forget the things that are small and wretched.

I recently was in the company of a minister friend who, between conversations, periodically hummed the tune to Charles Tindley’s great old hymn, "Stand By Me." He frequently interrupted his humming to sing such verses as he could recall. In time, I inquired as to his fascination with that particular hymn. "Oh," said he, "we sang it in church this past Sunday and I’ve had it on my mind ever since. Besides, its always been one of my favorites."

We all have favorite hymns which impress themselves upon our lives until we find ourselves even unconsciously drawing upon their influence, don’t we? Sometimes we are attracted first by the tune ... at other times, the words ... or at other times by the story of how the song came into being. We may be assured that the Psalms, the hymnbook of the Jewish people, contain many such songs which were hummed or sung aloud in the course of an ordinary day because they had become so indelibly imprinted upon the souls of a people who were able to "Sing the Lord’s song (even) in a strange land." Psalm 103 is such a song. What a magnificent affirmation of faith! "Bless the Lord," it proclaims, and forget not the benefits of the One who forgives your iniquity, heals your diseases, redeems your life from the Pit, crowns you with steadfast love and mercy, and renews your youth like the eagles.

There is more here than a song. It is the verbalization of an experience. The Psalmist expressed the experience through music, the prophets through prophecy, Christ through Calvary, Paul through his life and letters, and multitudes of saints across the ages through their witness. God crowns us with steadfast love!

In 1874 Dwight L. Moody and Ira Sankey boarded a train in Glasgow, Scotland, on their way to Edinburgh where Moody was to preach and Sankey was to lead the singing. Sankey perused a newspaper while Moody tended to some correspondence and jotted down notes for his sermon. Sankey was about to discard the newspaper when he noticed a little poem appearing in the corner of one of the pages. It had been written by a little orphaned Scottish girl who had died five years before the Glasgow paper had printed it as a "filler." Her name was Elizabeth Clephane. Sankey tore the poem from the paper and put it in his pocket with the thought of perhaps setting it to music one day. Later that evening in Edinburgh, Moody preached a sermon on "The Good Shepherd," then called on Sankey for a solo. Not having been told beforehand the subject of Moody’s sermon, and certainly unprepared to sing, Sankey was taken by complete surprise. He had absolutely no idea what piece of music would be appropriate for the moment, even if he had had time to think about it. At a loss, he approached the pulpit, bowed his head for a moment, removed the little poem from his pocket. Without the slightest idea of a tune, he prayed for the Holy Spirit to direct him as he attempted to sing a poem which had no music. He began, "There were ninety and nine that safely lay in the shelter of the fold ..."

There is more than a song here. It is yet another verbalization of God’s steadfast love.

The renown teacher and author Dr. David McLennon tells a story of his very first job in a small town general store. This was the day before mails and supermarket chains at least it was in his community. At age thirteen he was hired as a handy boy. He would sweep the flour, bag items for customers, put up stock. On one particular Saturday, he recalled, he heard the owner say to one of the clerks "It's that time of the year again, it's time to take inventory." Dr. McLennon wrote that this was a word that had not yet entered into his vocabulary. When an opportune moment arrived, he went up to the kindly older man and asked, Sir, what is an inventory? Patiently the owner explained that it was a time when you made a list of everything that you had from groceries on the shelves to wrapping paper and string. Still somewhat puzzled, the young McLennon then asked, Why?

"Well," responded the owner, "it's easy to forget exactly how much you have each year. Every now and then you have to take an inventory just to see what all you have."

That little story, to me, pretty well sums up what Thanksgiving is all about. It is a time when each of us needs to ask ourselves the question: Have I taken inventory of my life lately? Have I made an effort to count all the things that I do have in life instead of complaining about the things that I don't have. It is a good exercise especially when we are of a mind to brood or whine in self pity. Have you taken inventory lately?

What I am suggesting here is not some shallow "count your blessings" platitude. But from time to time, in a genuine kind of a way, we need to sit down and do some talking to ourselves about all of the gifts and opportunities and challenges that God has given each one of us. Perhaps there is a deep underlying wisdom in the children's poem that says: "Count your blessings one by one, and you might be surprised what the Lord has done."

Our labor for the Lord is:

1. a labor of love (I Thes 1:3).
2. a labor not in vain (I Cor 15:58).
3. a labor known by Christ (Rev 2:2).
4. a labor God does not forget (Heb 6:10).
5. a labor which is to be done together (I Cor 3:9).
6. a labor for eternal things (Col 1:28-9).
7. a labor which is to reward (I Cor 3:8).
8. a labor done to be accepted by Him (II Cor 5:9).
9. a labor which doesn't have an end (Luke 10:2).

Let thy gold be cast in the furnace,
The red gold, precious and bright;
Do not fear the hungry fire,
With its caverns of burning light;

And thy gold shall return more precious,
Free from every spot and stain;
For gold must be tried by fire,
As a heart must be tried by pain!

In the cruel fire of Sorrow
Cast thy heart, do not faint or wail;
Let thy hand be firm and steady
Do not let thy spirit quail:

But wait till the trial is over
And take thy heart again;
For as gold is tried by fire,
So a heart must be tried by pain!

I shall know by the gleam and the glitter
Of the golden chain you wear,
By your heart's calm strength in loving,
Of the fire they have had to bear.

Beat on, true heart, forever!
Shine bright, strong golden chain!
And bless the cleansing fire,
And the furnace of living pain!

Imagine what the game of bowling would be like if you couldn't see the pins you were trying to hit. Bill Knox did just that and bowled a perfect game. In Philadelphia's Olney Alleys, Bill had a screen placed just above the foul line to obscure his view of the lane. His purpose was to demonstrate the technique of spot bowling, which involves throwing the ball at a selected floor mark on the near end of the lane. Like many bowlers, Bill knew that you can do better if you aim at a mark close to you that's in line with the pins. He proved his point with a perfect 300 game of 12 strikes in a row.

Spot bowling illustrates part of a wise approach to life. When Paul wrote to the Thessalonians about the return of Christ, he reminded them that the ultimate goal of their salvation was to "be preserved blameless at the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ" (5:23). Paul taught them to focus their eyes on near actions that were in line with that goal. He urged them to comfort one another, help the weak, warn the wayward, pray without ceasing, and rejoice always. Then he added that we must do this in the power of Christ who is working in us (vv. 23-24).

Lord, help us to see what we can do today that will keep us focused on Your eternal goal for us.

In the "Peanuts" comic strip we find Sally waking up in the morning. She jumps out of bed, walks into Charlie Brown’s room, wakes him up and says, "Duck, big brother! Here comes another day!"

Every one of us has experienced similar feelings at one time or another. If we visualize the new day as something to be ducked, we will not be anxious to get out of bed. On the other hand, if the world and life are seen as a great opportunity, then we cannot wait to get back into it each morning. Although all of us have our ups and downs, it is God’s will for our lives that each dawn brings a new beginning, a new joy, as we are blessed with still another opportunity to sample his magnificent creation.

Yet so many people drag through life missing much of what it has to offer. They come across an opportunity for their lives, and they think of all the reasons why it won’t work. It could work for thousands of other people but not for them. These people are worry creators and optimism deflators.

The Devil has a merry time in Hell rejoicing that these negative, self-distrusting thinkers are literally stewing in their own juices. Satan wants them to forget that God created them in his own image. He wants Jesus’ promise of an abundant, worthwhile life to seem little more than a sanctimonious saying.

But the Bible says, "With God all things are possible." Satan detests that God is suggesting to you that you can become a somebody in a world of too many nobodies, a success in a crowd of failures. He does not want you to live up to your God-given potential; instead he wants you to be down on yourself, to hate to get out of bed in the morning.

Tomorrow morning, when the alarm rings, be the person God says you can be. Proclaim with the psalmist, "This is the day the Lord has made, let us rejoice and be glad in it." Next upon your lips should be the verse, "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me." Then jump out of bed and meet the day head-on, walking with the Lord and finding pleasure, possibility, and fulfillment in each step.

My life is but a weaving between my Lord and me,
I cannot choose the colors he worketh steadily.

Oft times he weaveth sorrow and I in foolish pride
Forget he sees the upper and I the underside.

The dark threads are as needful in the weaver’s skillful hand
As the threads of gold and silver in the pattern he has planned.

Not till the loom is silent and the shuttle cease to fly
Shall God unroll the canvas and explain the reason why.

D-Day for WWII was June 6, 1944 — the day on which the Battle of Normandy began — commencing the Western Allied effort to liberate mainland Europe from Nazi occupation during World War II. President Roosevelt composed a prayer and delivered it on the radio that evening. What follows is the full text of that address:

My Fellow Americans,

Last night, when I spoke with you about the fall of Rome, I knew at that moment that troops of the United States and our Allies were crossing the Channel in another and greater operation. It has come to pass with success thus far.

And so, in this poignant hour, I ask you to join with me in prayer:

Almighty God: Our sons, pride of our nation, this day have set upon a mighty endeavor, a struggle to preserve our Republic, our religion, and our civilization, and to set free a suffering humanity.

Lead them straight and true; give strength to their arms, stoutness to their hearts, steadfastness in their faith.

They will need Thy blessings. Their road will be long and hard. For the enemy is strong. He may hurl back our forces. Success may not come with rushing speed, but we shall return again and again; and we know that by Thy grace, and by the righteousness of our cause, our sons will triumph.

They will be sore tried, by night and by day, without rest until the victory is won. The darkness will be rent by noise and flame. Men's souls will be shaken with the violences of war.

For these men are lately drawn from the ways of peace. They fight not for the lust of conquest. They fight to end conquest. They fight to liberate. They fight to let justice arise, and tolerance and goodwill among all Thy people. They yearn but for the end of battle, for their return to the haven of home.

Some will never return. Embrace these, Father, and receive them, Thy heroic servants, into Thy kingdom.

And for us at home fathers, mothers, children, wives, sisters, and brothers of brave men overseas, whose thoughts and prayers are ever with them help us, Almighty God, to rededicate ourselves in renewed faith in Thee in this hour of great sacrifice.

Many people have urged that I call the nation into a single day of special prayer. But because the road is long and the desire is great, I ask that our people devote themselves in a continuance of prayer. As we rise to each new day, and again when each day is spent, let words of prayer be on our lips, invoking Thy help to our efforts.

Give us strength, too strength in our daily tasks, to redouble the contributions we make in the physical and the material support of our armed forces.

And let our hearts be stout, to wait out the long travail, to bear sorrows that may come, to impart our courage unto our sons wheresoever they may be.

And, O Lord, give us faith. Give us faith in Thee; faith in our sons; faith in each other; faith in our united crusade. Let not the keeness of our spirit ever be dulled. Let not the impacts of temporary events, of temporal matters of but fleeting moment let not these deter us in our unconquerable purpose.

With Thy blessing, we shall prevail over the unholy forces of our enemy. Help us to conquer the apostles of greed and racial arrogances. Lead us to the saving of our country, and with our sister nations into a world unity that will spell a sure peace a peace invulnerable to the schemings of unworthy men. And a peace that will let all of men live in freedom, reaping the just rewards of their honest toil.

Thy will be done, Almighty God.

Amen.

Note: We offer this as a possible pastoral prayer during times of war or conflict. We understand that current wars and WWII have many dissimilarities but there are at the same time similarities. Also we understand there are many differences of opinion regarding war and conflict. So we will not attempted to contemporize or adapt the above prayer leaving that up to each pastor. Or, you may simply wish to incorporate part or all into your sermon as an historical illustration.

One summer morning in a mission camp where I was serving as a teacher of Galatians to junior high youth, a bird appeared at morning devotions, and lighted on the head of one of the girls. From there the bird hopped to her arm and then onto the arm of another camper and then another. The bird seemed to be looking for someone. We learned later that it was indeed a tame bird, the pet of a camper in an adjoining camp. We were also told that some boys in our camp had thrown sticks at the bird and frightened it so much that it would not come out of the woods.

The following night, at campfire, one of the counselors got up during our sharing time and told this story. When the bird came among us yesterday morning I was reminded of another camp I attended many summers ago when we were visited by a bird in much the same way. It proved to be a most remarkable bird, and the wonders it worked among us I shall never forget.

It was larger than the bird we saw yesterday, about as big as a pigeon -- black on top with a snowy white breast -- with the most peculiar array of feathers I have ever seen. I have never seen one like it before or since. It came to bring us a blessing at a time when a blessing was very much needed. Our camp was full of dissension. The campers had little respect for the camp, for their fellow campers, or for the counseling staff. They wrote graffiti on the cabin walls and interrupted the counselors with obnoxious noises and giggling during evening devotions. Campers teased one another and called each other hateful names. The counselors had to break up several fights, including a food fight one day in the dining hall during lunch.

There was one boy who was older and bigger than the rest who was the instigator of much of the disharmony and fighting. His name was Johnny. He would start the teasing and then egg others on until a fight had erupted. He got the food fight going simply by daring one of the other boys to throw spaghetti at a group of girls. Conditions in the camp reached a low point when Johnny's cabin raided one of the other cabins. They dumped their luggage on the floor and threw their sleeping bags in the lake. The director tried everything she could think of to restore order, but nothing seemed to work. She was ready to call some of the parents and ask them to come and take their campers home. And then the bird appeared -- suddenly, as if out of nowhere -- on a cold and rainy evening as we were all gathered here around the campfire. It hopped softly and gently among us, flitting from one camper to another, lighting on a head here and an arm there, spreading joy and love as it went. The bird stayed with us for several days. Peace returned to our camp.

One of the counselors, a man in his 70s who had been coming to the camp for many years, told us one night at campfire that it was a spirit bird sent by God to show us how to live peacefully together. Johnny whispered to some of his friends that it wasn't true. He said it was an evil bird, and that if we didn't do something, it would spread disease and sickness throughout the camp. After the campfire Johnny's friends lured the bird into the woods with some bread left from their supper and then pelted it with sticks and stones until it was dead. Johnny watched from behind a tree, and later, when the director asked him what had happened to the bird, he claimed that he had had nothing to do with it.

The next day the old counselor and several of the campers carried the bird's body out to the meadow and laid it gently in a shallow grave beneath the shade of a small pine tree. Then they joined hands and prayed the Lord's Prayer. On the path back to the camp as the little band of faithful mourners sang "We Are One In The Spirit," Johnny and his friends jumped down from a tree from where they had been watching the burial and pelted them with water balloons.

Later that week Johnny plotted with his friends to raid one of the neighboring camps. They planned to soak their sleeping bags with water balloons. When they were about halfway down the path the spirit bird appeared suddenly over their heads, as if out of nowhere. It dove down and landed on Johnny's head with such force that he was knocked to the ground. Then the bird perched on his arm and spoke to him in a human voice. "Johnny, you cannot kill the spirit of God. Whenever I am struck down, I rise up with greater strength and power than before. I want you to go back to the camp and tell everyone that I am alive. Teach them to live by the Spirit."

Johnny went back to the camp and began immediately to tell everyone that the Spirit bird was alive. He became one of the most fervent followers of the Spirit, spreading love, joy and peace wherever he went. I know because I am Johnny. I am the one who caused the other campers to fight with each other and to kill the spirit bird. But since the spirit bird spoke to me, I have been living with the Spirit in my heart. I have not seen the spirit bird since that day on the path, but I see signs of its presence everywhere." Then the old counselor opened a pouch that he carried on his belt and took out a handful of black and white feathers. He walked around the fire circle and gave a feather to each camper and counselor. We closed our campfire that night by joining hands and singing, "We Are One In The Spirit."

Author's Note: This story is dedicated to the campers and counselors of the July 1990 Mission Camp at Lake Lucerne near Neshkoro, Wisconsin -- with special thanks to our director Karen King and my fellow teachers, Isabel Molina Jefferson and Dick and Pat Myer.

In evil long I took delight,
Unawed by shame or fear,
Till a new object struck my sight,
And stopp'd my wild career:

I saw One hanging on a Tree
In agonies and blood,
Who fix'd His languid eyes on me.
As near His Cross I stood.

Sure never till my latest breath,
Can I forget that look:
It seem'd to charge me with His death,
Though not a word He spoke:

My conscience felt and own'd the guilt,
And plunged me in despair:
I saw my sins His Blood had spilt,
And help'd to nail Him there.

Alas! I knew not what I did!
But now my tears are vain:
Where shall my trembling soul be hid?
For I the Lord have slain!

A second look He gave, which said,
"I freely all forgive;
This blood is for thy ransom paid;
I die that thou may'st live."

Thus, while His death my sin displays
In all its blackest hue,
Such is the mystery of grace,
It seals my pardon too.

With pleasing grief, and mournful joy,
My spirit now if fill'd,
That I should such a life destroy,
Yet live by Him I kill'd!

There's no music in a rest, but there is the making of music in it. In our whole life-melody, the music is broken off here and there by 'rests,' and we foolishly think we have come to the end of the tune. Not without design does God write the music of our lives. It is ours to learn the tune, and not be dismayed at the rests. They are not to be slurred over, not to be omitted. They are not there to destroy the melody, not there to change the keynote. If we sadly say to ourselves, "There is no music in a rest," let us not forget that there still is the making of music within it.

"Carry some quiet around inside thee," the well-known Quaker, George Fox, used to say. "Be still and cool in thy own mind and spirit, from thy own thoughts, and then thou wilt feel the principle of God to turn thy mind to the Lord from whence cometh life; whereby thou mayest receive the strength and power to allay all storms and tempests."

I was a shepherd on that star-filled night
In Bethlehem. I thought of long ago ...
I thought of brave Naomi taking flight
From Moab's land, of Ruth who chose to know

A stranger's lot—a royal daughter, she.
"Entreat me not to leave thee," she had said,
"Thy people shall be mine—so let it be."
Humbly she gleaned the fields, and there she wed

Boaz, and there she bore him a son.
And from this line came David. In these hills
He roamed and played, and fought at last and won.
Ah, memories-my heart with rapture fills

For here of David's family Christ was born
And alleluias rang from night till morn!

Yes, I, a shepherd on that holy night
In Bethlehem, saw the bright, whirling star
Shatter the darkness like a shaft of light,
Shedding great gleams of glory from afar.

With fright, yet filled with dreams, I heard the song
"Come, find the Child." Joy overflowed the brim
Until I found I could not go along.
I sent instead a lamb to welcome Him.

Though mine shall be a humble walk for long,
I shall not sorrow, for I saw the Light,
And I shall hear the glory of the song-
My days shall always mark that one great height.

They told me that the blessed mother smiled,
And that she placed my lamb beside the Child.
Ah, Bethlehem, my home, my house of bread,
Here let my body and my soul be fed!

The glory of God comes to us when we are most "fully awake." A list of the half-dozen or more true geniuses of human history would surely include the name of Blaise Pascal the seventeenth-century French philosopher, mathematician, and scientist. In his brief 39 years, he made scientific discoveries which are basic to a great amount of our most significant contemporary knowledge.

But with all his ability in logic and all his commitment to tough-minded scholarship, Pascal found his greatest personal assurance, not in science but in faith. On the evening of Monday, November 23, 1654, he felt the reality of Jesus Christ in such an intense way that it changed him. So that he would never forget that moment and forget his Lord he he wrote his feelings down on parchment and sewed it into the lining of his coat, which he wore for the rest of his life. Here is some of what he wrote:

God of Abraham, God of Isaac, God of Jacob.
Not of the Philosophers and Scientists.
Certainty, Certainty, Feeling Joy, Peace.
God of Jesus Christ
May I not forget your words. Amen.

The words were found by his servant after his death nearly eight years later. For Pascal the greatest reality was not what he discovered in laboratory experiments, but what he found in his communion with God. It was at such a time that he was "fully awake."

Note: Here is the full writing as it appears on the parchment in his jacket:

Memorial

The year of grace 1654,

Monday, 23 November, feast of St. Clement, pope and martyr,
and others in the martyrology.
Vigil of St. Chrysogonus, martyr, and others.
From about half past ten at night until about half past midnight,

FIRE.

GOD of Abraham, GOD of Isaac, GOD of Jacob
not of the philosophers and of the learned.
Certitude. Certitude. Feeling. Joy. Peace.
GOD of Jesus Christ.
My God and your God.
Your GOD will be my God.
Forgetfulness of the world and of everything, except GOD.
He is only found by the ways taught in the Gospel.
Grandeur of the human soul.
Righteous Father, the world has not known you, but I have known you.
Joy, joy, joy, tears of joy.
I have departed from him:
They have forsaken me, the fount of living water.
My God, will you leave me?
Let me not be separated from him forever.
This is eternal life, that they know you, the one true God,
and the one that you sent, Jesus Christ.
Jesus Christ.
Jesus Christ.
I left him; I fled him, renounced, crucified.
Let me never be separated from him.
He is only kept securely by the ways taught in the Gospel:
Renunciation, total and sweet.
Complete submission to Jesus Christ and to my director.
Eternally in joy for a day’s exercise on the earth.
May I not forget your words. Amen.

“Jesus wept.” Had he not heard that big boys never cry? He wept with Mary as she told how Lazarus came to die. He wept with her. His heart was touchedto see her weeping there. And, as he wept, his weeping said her sorrow he would share. He did not say, “Be brave and strong,”and thus condemn her tears. He worried not that he was seenas sharing in her fears. If Jesus was so sensitive to Mary’s dreadful loss, I wonder how he bore so well the torture of the cross.

If Jesus thus could weep and did not try his tears to hide, I wonder why we try to keepour tears of love inside. And I believe that Jesus weeps for human anguish knownthroughout the world by those in pain. He makes their pain his own. If I would then be Christ-like and would follow in his way, I too may weep with others as I share with them today.

Katherine, the wife of Martin Luther, dramatically revived the depressed Reformer’s confidence in God’s providence. This has been versified by F. W. Herzberger:

One day when skies loomed the blackest,
     This greatest and bravest of men
Lost heart and in an oversad spirit
     Refused to take courage again,

Neither eating or drinking nor speaking
     To anxious wife, children or friends,
Till Katherine dons widow garments
     And deepest of mourning pretends.

Surprised, Luther asked why she sorrowed.
     “Dear Doctor,” his Katie replied,
“I have cause for the saddest of weeping,
     For God in His heaven has died!”

Her gentle rebuke did not fail him,
     He laughingly kissed his wise spouse,
Took courage, and banished his sorrow,
     And joy again reigned in the house.

A brand new pastor, fresh out of seminary, was preaching his first sermon in his first church. In seminary he had been taught to repeat his text numerous times for emphasis, and to pound on the pulpit occasionally. His text happened to be that promise of our Lord: "Behold I come quickly." At the beginning of the sermon he slammed the pulpit rather smartly and declared, "Behold I come quickly." Then about five minutes into the sermon he did the same thing. About ten minutes into the sermon he did it again. And then as he was winding it all up, he repeated that text again-- "Behold I come quickly" and slammed his fist against the pulpit.

In fact, he hit it a little too hard. The pulpit toppled over and the preacher fell with it. He found himself in the soft lap of an upper middle-aged, motherly type of saint. The preacher began apologizing profusely, but she cut in and said, "Forget it, son. I should have been expecting you. You warned me four times you were coming."

Becoming good at the things that build inner confidence and calm takes practice and a dash of creativity! The following list might provide some cloudseeding for a brainstorm or two of your own:

1. Pay off your credit cards.
2. Take off ten pounds or accept where you are without any more complaints.
3. Eat dinner together as a family for seven days in a row.
4. Take your wife on a dialogue date (no movie, guys).
5. Read your kids a classic book (Twain's a good start).
6. Memorize the Twenty-third Psalm as a family.
7. Give each family member a hug for twenty-one days in a row (that's how long the experts say it takes to develop a habit).
8. Pick a night of the week in which the television will remain unplugged.
9. Go out for a non-fast food dinner as a family.
10. Pray for your spouse and children every day.
11. Plan a vacation together.
12. Take a vacation together.
13. Read a chapter from the Bible every day until it becomes a habit.
14. Sit together as a family in church.
15. Surprise your teenager. Wash his car and fill up his gas tank.
16. Take an afternoon off from work; surprise your child by excusing him from school and taking him to a ball game.
17. Take a few hours one afternoon and go to the library as a family.
18. Take a walk as a family.
19. Write each member of your family a letter sharing why you value them.
20. Give your spouse a weekend getaway with a friend (same gender!) to a place of their choice.
21. Go camping as a family.
22. Go to bed early (one hour before your normal bedtime) every day for a week.
23. Take each of your children out to breakfast (individually) at least once a month for a year.
24. Turn down a promotion that would demand more time from your family than you can afford to give.
25. Religiously wear your seat belts.
26. Get a complete physical.
27. Exercise a little every day for a month.
28. Make sure you have adequate life insurance on both you and your spouse.
29. Write out information about finances, wills, and important business information that your spouse can use to keep things under control in the event of your death.
30. Make sure your family car is safe (tires, brakes, etc.) and get it tuned up.
31. Replace the batteries in your smoke alarm.
32. Put a security system in your house.
33. Attend the parent/teacher meetings of each child as a couple.
34. Help your kids with their homework.
35. Watch the kids on Saturday while your wife goes shopping (but if a friend calls, don't say that you're "babysitting").
36. Explain to your spouse exactly what you do for a living.
37. Put together a picture puzzle. (One thousand pieces or more.)
38. Take time during the week to read a Bible story to your children and then discuss it with them.
39. Encourage each child to submit to you his most perplexing question, and promise him that you'll either answer it or discuss it with him.
40. Finish fixing something around the house.
41. Tell your kids how you and your spouse met.
42. Tell your kids about your first date.
43. Sit down and write your parents a letter thanking them for a specific thing they did for you. (Don't forget to send it!)
44. Go on a shopping spree where you are absolutely committed to buying nothing.
45. Keep a prayer journal for a month. Keep track of the specific ways that God answers your needs.
46. Do some stargazing away from the city with your family. Help your children identify constellations and conclude the evening with prayer to the majestic God who created the heavens.
47. Treat your wife to a beauty make-over (facial, manicure, haircut, etc.). I hear they really like this.
48. Give the kids an alternative to watching Saturday morning cartoons (breakfast at McDonald's, garage sales, the park, chores, etc.).
49. Ask your children each day what they did at school (what they learned, who they ate lunch with, etc.).
50. After you make your next major family decision, take your child back through the process and teach him how you arrived at your decision.
51. Start saying to yourself "My car doesn't look so bad."
52. Call you wife or husband from work just to see how they're doing.
53. Compile a family tree and teach your children the history of their ancestors.
54. Walk through an old graveyard with your children.
55. Say no to at least one thing a day even if it's only a second piece of pie.
56. Write that letter to the network that broadcast the show you felt was inappropriate for prime-time viewing.
57. Turn off the lights and listen to a "praise" tape as you focus your thoughts on the Lord.
58. Write a note to your pastor praising him for something.
59. Take back all the books in your library that actually belong in someone else's library.
60. Give irritating drivers the right to pull in front of you without signaling and yelling at them.
61. Make every effort to not let the sun go down on your anger.
62. Accept legitimate criticism from your wife or a friend without reacting or defending yourself.
63. If your car has a Christian bumper sticker on in drive like it.
64. Do a Bible study on the "wise man" and the "fool" in Proverbs...and then apply what it takes to be wise to your life.
65. Make a list of people who have hurt your feelings over the past year...then check your list to see if you've forgiven them.
66. Make a decision to honor your parents, even if they made a career out of dishonoring you.
67. Take your children to the dentist and doctor for your wife.
68. Play charades with your family, but limit subjects to memories of the past.
69. Do the dishes for your wife.
70. Schedule yourself a free day to stay home with your family.
71. Get involved in a family project that serves or helps someone less fortunate.
72. As a family, get involved in a recreational activity.
73. Send your wife flowers.
74. Spend an evening going through old pictures from family vacations.
75. Take a weekend once a year for you and your spouse to get away and renew your friendship.
76. Praise your spouse and children in their presence to someone else.
77. Discuss a world or national problem, and ask your children for their opinion on it.
78. Wait up for your teenagers when they are out on dates.
79. Have a "quiet Saturday" (no television, no radio, no stereo...no kidding).
80. If your children are little, spend an hour playing with them but let them determine the game.
81. Have your parents tell your children about life when they were young.
82. Give up soap operas.
83. De-clutter your house.
84. If you have a habit of watching late night television, but have to be to work early every morning, change your habit.
85. Don't accept unnecessary breakfast appointments.
86. Write missionaries regularly.
87. Go through your closets and give everything that you haven't worn in a year to a clothing relief organization.
88. Become a faithful and frequent visitor of your church's library.
89. Become a monthly supporter of a Third World child.
90. Keep mementos, school projects, awards, etc. of each child in separate files. You'll appreciate these when they've left the nest.
91. Read the biography of a missionary.
92. Give regularly and faithfully to conscientious church endeavors.
93. Place with your will a letter to each family member telling why you were glad you got to share life with him or her.
94. Go through your old records and tapes and discard any of them that might be a bad testimony to your children.
95. Furnish a room (or a corner of a room) with comfortable chairs and declare it the "disagreement corner." When conflicts arise, go to this corner and don't leave until it's resolved.
96. Give each child the freedom to pick his favorite dinner menu at least once a week.
97. Go over to a shut-in's house as a family and completely clean it and get the lawn work done.
98. Call an old friend from your past, just to see how he or she is getting along.
99. Get a good friend to hold you accountable for a specific important need (Bible reading, prayer, spending time with your family, losing a few pounds, etc.).
100.  Establish a budget.
101. Go to a Christian marriage enrichment seminar.

The palm branches and the shouts harked back a century-and-a-half to the triumph of the Maccabees and the overthrow of the brutal Antiochus Epiphanes, the Saddam Hussein of his day. In 167 B.C. Antiochus had precipitated a full-scale revolt when, having already forbidden the practice of Judaism on pain of death, he setup, right smack in the middle of the Jewish temple, an altar to Zeus and sacrificed a pig on it. Hard to imagine a greater slap in the religious face to good Jews. Stinging from this outrage, an old man of priestly stock named Mattathias rounded up his five sons, all the weapons he could find, and a guerrilla war was launched. Old Mattathias soon died, but his son Judas, called Maccabeus (which means "hammer"), kept on and within three years was able to cleanse and rededicate the desecrated temple.

"Mission Accomplished?" Well, it would be a full 20 years more of fighting, after Judas and a successor brother, Jonathan, had died in battle, that a third brother, Simon, took over, and through his diplomacy achieved Judean independence. That would begin a century of Jewish sovereignty.

Of course, there was great celebration. "On the twenty-third day of the second month, in the one hundred and seventy-first year, the Jews entered Jerusalem with praise and palm branches, and with harps and cymbals and stringed instruments, and with hymns and songs, because a great enemy had been crushed and removed from Israel." So says the account in I Maccabees - a story as well known to the crowd in Jerusalem that day as George Washington and the defeat of the British is known to us.

Forget what you learned in elementary school the earth is flat as a pancake. All that stuff about the earth being round and the sun being the center of the universe is a big joke, insists C.K. Johnson, the one time president of the International Flat Earth Research Society, who died in 2001. The group takes great pleasure in poking fun at "globites." Did you know you were being insulted in that way? "You Globite!"

The organization, backed by 1400 members from around the world...or rather, from across the plane, still gets scads of mail from dedicated teachers and students who blast it as a group of kooks and charlatans. Maybe it is, but Johnson claims the society's largest single group of members is doctors. Then come lawyers and other professional people, like engineers and architects. I think the make up of their members is fabricated. Why? Because they dismiss modern science as a club for sun worshippers and write off the American and Russian space programs as multi-billion dollar hoaxes. So the majority of their members are scientist but they reject modern science?

Johnson once famously said: "The moon walk was done in a Hollywood set. All faked," Johnson's a former airplane mechanic. Furthermore, he and his followers insist the sun is not stationary and does not set. They figure it to be a gigantic spotlight, 32 miles across, that moves in an ellipse just 3000 miles above the center of the earth. The other stars are just a lot of tiny holes poked in a huge canopy covering this planet.

Do Flat Earthers believe in anything? Here's what they say, "We believe the Earth is flat. Everything else is pure conjecture." Now that's an airtight system of thought. We on the other hand do not believe in vain stories with no proof. Remember Peter's words: For we did not follow cleverly devised stories when we told you about the coming of our LORD Jesus Christ in power, but we were eyewitnesses of his majesty. And the words of John: That which was from the beginning, which we have heard, which we have seen with our eyes, which we have looked at and our hands have touched-this we proclaim concerning the Word of life.

Years ago, an angry man rushed through the Rijks Museum in Amsterdam until he reached Rembrandt's famous painting "Nightwatch." Then he took out a knife and slashed it repeatedly before he could be stopped. A short time later, a distraught, hostile man slipped into St. Peter's Cathedral in Rome with a hammer and began to smash Michelangelo's beautiful sculpture The Pieta. Two cherished works of art were severely damaged. But what did officials do? Throw them out and forget about them? Absolutely not! Using the best experts, who worked with the utmost care and precision, they made every effort to restore the treasures.

By His sovereign grace, God can bring good out of our failures, and even out of our sins. J. Stuart Holden tells of an old Scottish mansion close to where he had his little summer home. The walls of one room were filled with sketches made by distinguished artists. The practice began after a pitcher of soda water was accidentally spilled on a freshly decorated wall and left an unsightly stain. At the time, a noted artist, Lord Landseer, was a guest in the house. One day when the family went out to the moors, he stayed behind. With a few masterful strokes of a piece of charcoal, that ugly spot became the outline of a beautiful waterfall, bordered by trees and wildlife. He turned that disfigured wall into one of his most successful depictions of Highland life.

Be simple and direct in your secret prayer. The grace of simplicity is not to be despised in public prayer; but when we call on God in secret, any formality or elaborateness in our petitions is an offense.

Pray audibly. You need not lift your voice to be heard in the street, but it is vastly better to pray not merely in your thoughts but also with words. The utterance of our wants helps to define them.

Be honest in your secret prayer. Do not express any want that you do not feel. Do not confess any fault that you do not mean to forsake. Do not keep anything back. Remember that it is He that searcheth the heart to whom you are speaking.

Pray earnestly. The words need not be loud, but the desire should be intense. "The fervent, energetic prayer of a righteous man availeth much." "The kingdom of heaven suffereth violence, and the violent take it by force." No listless, drowsy petitioning will serve.

Do not mock God in your prayers. Do not beg him to come to you. You know that he is never far from any soul that seeks him. That prayer is answered before you utter it. Do not ask God to do for you that which he has expressly bidden you to do.

Ed Young, pastor of the Second Baptist Church of Houston, Texas, tells of one event in his call to the ministry. 

While I attended the University of Alabama, I got away from Bible study and away from the church. I had a friend name Walter Carroll, who was an atheist. He was a good guy, though. One Sunday afternoon he looked at me and said, "Eddie, do you believe there's a God??" I said, "Sure, Walter, I believe there is a God." He said, "You don't live like it." I said, "What do you mean?" He said, "You live just like I do. I'm an atheist. I don't believe there's a God, and I live like there's no God. We're buddies. You do everything I do. You say there is a God, and yet you don't live like there's a God. Don't you know that, if there is a God, if you can get to know Him and live the way He wants you to live, that's the most important thing in life?" 

Ed Young goes on to say, "That was the greatest sermon I have ever heard. God used the mouth of an atheist. I'll never forget it. I couldn't answer. I went to my room, dropped on my knees and said, Lord, I know you're there. I believe Jesus is Your Son. I've gotten away from that? Just lead me. I'm yours."

Do you believe there's a God? The most natural response is "of course!" Our lives, the way we live  - do they support our belief of God? Many of us have wavered between belief and unbelief in both thought and action. It's time to make a decision.

I've always loved the little story about the boy who's trying to learn the Lord's Prayer, so he kneels by his bed, and says:
 
Our Father, who are in heaven
How do you know my name?
 
Such individualized affection will always remain a mystery to us mortals, and at the same time, let us never forget we're made in the image of that extraordinary love. And doing what Jesus did in loving each one he ever met as if there were none other in all the world is at least an ideal toward which we can reach even if it always remains utterly beyond our complete grasp.

I was spending the night in the hospital room with my mother.  Fifteen years before, she had won a tough, ravaging battle with cancer. Now it had struck again.  She had a mastectomy that morning and had been sedated all day.  In the middle of the night I was dozing, but her stirring brought me to alertness.  I had the feeling that she wanted to talk, and that she wanted to talk about real things - not just make time passing conversation. 

How did she feel? What was she thinking?  There was a lot of deep sharing.  I hope I never forget that night and what she said. "When you give your life to the Lord, son, everything has to be alright no matter what happens."  It was her way of expressing confidence that she was O.K. In God's hands.  She had known God's love and care in the past, and she could trust him now.  Mom taught me that trust is a verb.  We trust and rely on God to be true to His promises.

Until I learned to trust,
I never learned to pray;
And I did not learn to fully trust
Till sorrows came my way.

Until I felt my weakness,
His strength I never knew
Nor dreamed ‘til I was stricken
That he could see me through.

Who deepest drinks of sorrow,
Drinks deepest, too, of grace;
He sends the storm so he himself
Can be our hiding place.

His heart, that seeks our highest—GOOD—
Knows well when things annoy;
We would not long for heaven
If earth held only joy.

The art of forgiving is a spiritual grace every Christian should develop. Because this is so difficult to put into practice, here are some suggestions on how to forgive others:

1. Begin by assuring yourself that compared to Christ's suffering you haven't been seriously wronged at all.
2. Recall the many kind deeds that have been shown to you, perhaps even by the person who has harmed you.
3. List the benefits you have received from the Lord.
4. Thank Him for blessing you with His love and forgiveness each day.
5. Make an honest effort to pray for the one who has injured you.
6. Go even further by looking for an opportunity to help him.
7. If the offense is especially hard to forget, try to erase the memory by thinking gracious and generous thoughts.
8. Finally, before you fall asleep at night, repeat slowly and thoughtfully that phrase from the Lord's Prayer, "Forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors."

Perhaps we need Santa at Christmas to help us be merry and joyous because we have a flawed understanding of Jesus. From today's gospel text we learn that the first reaction to Jesus' presence on earth, of God-in-our-midst, was joy. Joy so tremendous, joy so utterly overwhelming that it must somehow escape the bounds of earth itself and jump towards the heavens.

In John Ortberg's wonderful book The Life You've Always Wanted (Zondervan,2002), he writes: We will not understand God until we understand this about him: "God is the happiest being in the universe" (G. K. Chesterton). Yes, God knows sorrow. Jesus is remembered, among other things, as a 'man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief.' But the sorrow of God, like the anger of God, is his temporary response to a fallen world. That sorrow will be banished forever from his heart on the day the world is set right. Joy is God's basic character. God is the happiest being in the universe.

Joy is what makes Christmas. Each of us may look to some annual family tradition to trigger that joy. But the trees, the carols, the cookies, the presents, the parties, are only various expressions of a single experience of the spirit JOY born again into our souls.

Some of you may remember Dave Dravecky, former pitcher for the San Francisco Giants. At the peak of his career in 1991 he lost his pitching arm to cancer. Those who watched his 1989 comeback will never forget the Montreal game. Dave's left arm snapped with a deafening crack that could be heard in the stands. The comeback quickly ended. It was a devastating experience. It is bad enough to have cancer, let alone face the amputation of an arm, but then on top of that, to lose a promising career as a major league baseball player. Naturally Dave was filled with many questions.

During his struggles, letters of encouragement poured in from all over the country. Most were letters of encouragement. Some were looking for answers to life's questions. They had seen him keep his faith, and they wanted to know how he had done it. But one day he received this letter:

Dear Mr. Dravecky, If there is a God who cares so much about you, why did he allow you to have the surgery in the first place? I have lived 41 years in this old world and have yet to see any piece of genuine evidence that there is anything real about any of those religious beliefs you talk about. God certainly does not love me and has never done a single thing to express that love for me. I have had to fight for everything I ever got in life. Nobody cares about what happens to me and I don't care about anybody else either. Can't you see the truth that religion is nothing more than a crutch used by a lot of weaklings who can't face reality and that the church is nothing but a bunch of hypocrites who care nothing for each other and whose faith extends not to their actions or daily lives but is only just a bunch of empty phrases spouted off to impress others?

A cruel letter, isn't it? How would you have responded to it? He sent a letter to the man and said that he had faced his own doubts and that faith was not always easy. He wrote, "I am convinced that there is a God. That no matter what happens to me, there is a purpose for it and behind that purpose stands a loving, caring God." Dravecky had come to know the same Lord who came back for Thomas. The same Resurrected Jesus who stood before all the disciples and said, "Peace be with you, Thomas. Put your finger here; see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it into my side. Stop doubting and believe."

We all have doubts: Thomas, Dravecky, the letter writer. No one is exempt. What Jesus says to you is: You will be blessed if in the midst of those doubts you believe.

Many years ago, a friend of mine from church pulled me out into the parking lot to listen to a tape in her car. Darlene Malmo wanted me to hear her favorite Lionel Ritchie song. There was this song about life being like a party, "all night long." She said, "I am going to party all night long with God." That is what being a Christian is.

Some Christian say that it is not right to have such a mood of happiness and joy. Especially when there is so much starvation. When there is so much hunger. When there is so much suffering in the world, it is not right to be happy.

But that is not true. I think of the hymn, "This Is My Father's World" and the great words to that hymn. "This is my father's world, o let me ne'ver forget. That though the wrong be oft so strong, God is the ruler yet. This is my father's world, o let my heart by glad, for the Lord is king, let the heavens ring. God reigns, let the earth be glad."

Yes, in this world there is so much suffering and so much starvation, but it is also a banquet. Joy, in the middle of suffering, is at the core of being a Christian.

When I was a boy, I felt it was both a duty and a privilege to help my widowed mother make ends meet by finding employment in vacation time, on Saturdays and other times when I did not have to be in school. For quite a while I worked for a Scottish shoemaker, or "cobbler," as he preferred to be called, an Orkney man, named Dan Mackay. He was a forthright Christian and his little shop was a real testimony for Christ in the neighborhood. The walls were literally covered with Bible texts and pictures, generally taken from old-fashioned Scripture Sheet Almanacs, so that look where one would, he found the Word of God staring him in the face. There were John 3:16 and John 5:24, Romans 10:9, and many more.

On the little counter in front of the bench on which the owner of the shop sat, was a Bible, generally open, and a pile of gospel tracts. No package went out of that shop without a printed message wrapped inside. And whenever opportunity offered, the customers were spoken to kindly and tactfully about the importance of being born again and the blessedness of knowing that the soul is saved through faith in Christ. Many came back to ask for more literature or to inquire more particularly as to how they might find peace with God, with the blessed results that men and women were saved, frequently right in the shoe shop.

It was my chief responsibility to pound leather for shoe soles. A piece of cowhide would be cut to suite, then soaked in water. I had a flat piece of iron over my knees and, with a flat-headed hammer, I pounded these soles until they were hard and dry. It seemed an endless operation to me, and I wearied of it many times.

What made my task worse was the fact that, a block away, there was another shop that I passed going and coming to or from my home, and in it sat a jolly, godless cobbler who gathered the boys of the neighborhood about him and regaled them with lewd tales that made him dreaded by respectable parents as a menace to the community. Yet, somehow, he seemed to thrive and that perhaps to a greater extent than my employer, Mackay. As I looked in his window, I often noticed that he never pounded the soles at all, but took them from the water, nailed them on, damp as they were, and with the water splashing from them as he drove each nail in.

One day I ventured inside, something I had been warned never to do. Timidly, I said, "I notice you put the soles on while still wet. Are they just as good as if they were pounded?" He gave me a wicked leer as he answered, "They come back all the quicker this way, my boy!"

"Feeling I had learned something, I related the instance to my boss and suggested that I was perhaps wasting time in drying out the leather so carefully. Mr. Mackay stopped his work and opened his Bible to the passage that reads, "Whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of god."

"Harry," he said, "I do not cobble shoes just for the four bits and six bits (50c or 75c) that I get from my customers. I am doing this for the glory of God. I expect to see every shoe I have ever repaired in a big pile at the judgment seat of Christ, and I do not want the Lord to say to me in that day, 'Dan, this was a poor job. You did not do your best here.' I want Him to be able to say, 'Well done, good and faithful servant.'"

Then he went on to explain that just as some men are called to preach, so he was called to fix shoes, and that only as he did this well would his testimony count for God. It was a lesson I have never been able to forget. Often when I have been tempted to carelessness, and to slipshod effort, I have thought of dear, devoted Dan Mackay, and it has stirred me up to seek to do all as for Him who died to redeem me.

Hanging on a wall on the Cancer Ward of Forsyth Hospital, in Winston‑Salem, North Carolina:

If my days were untroubled and my heart was light,
Would I seek that fair land where there is no night?
If I never grew weary with the weight of my load
Would I seek God’s peace at the end of the road?

If I never knew sickness and never felt pain
Would I reach for the hand that helps and sustains?
If I walked without sorrow and lived without loss
Would my soul seek sweet solace at the foot of the cross?

If all that I desired were mine day by day
Would I kneel before God and earnestly pray?
I ask myself this and the answer is plain
If my life was all pleasure and not any pain

I’d ask God less often and need Him much less;
For God is sought most often in times of distress.
For no one knows God or sees Him as plain
As those who have met Him on the pathway of pain.

Let me tell you a true story that happened some time ago: A young boy's father died in a car wreck when he was twelve years old. He read it in the newspaper before anyone got word to him to tell him about it. When he saw that picture of the family car smashed-up on the front page of the newspaper… and read that his dad had died in that accident, he was thrust immediately and painfully into the shocked numbness of deep grief.

Strangely, one of his very first feelings were those of guilt. He had remembered how some months before at a family picnic he was showing off with a baseball. At one point he got careless and threw wildly; it hit his dad in the hand and broke his thumb. The young boy felt horrible. He said to himself, "What a terrible son I am! I have caused my dad great pain."

It seemed that was all he could remember after his fathers death—the pain he caused his dad. Finally, the young boy went to see his pastor and told him about the deep feelings of guilt and about breaking his dad's thumb.

The young boy… well, let me tell you in the boy's own words, he said: I'll never forget how my pastor handled that. He was so great. He came around the desk with tears in his eyes. He sat down across from me and said:

"Now, Jim," that was the boy's name, "you listen to me. If your dad could come back to life for five minutes and be right here with us… and if he knew you were worried about that, what would he say to you?"

"He would tell me to quit worrying about that," Jim said.

"Well, all right," the minister said, "then you quit worrying about that right now. Do you understand me?"

"Yes sir," he said… and he did.

That minister was saying: "You are forgiven. Accept the forgiveness… and make a new start with your life." The young boy did make a new start. And many years later, he served a 9,000 member church: St Luke' s in Houston. The young Boy? James W. Moore, the author of over 30 books on Christian living.

That's Easter. The Risen Lord comes back to life… and assures the disciples that they are forgiven.

· Peter had denied his Lord three times.
· Thomas had doubted.
· All the disciples had forsaken Him.

But, Christ came back, forgave them, resurrected them. He came back to share with them… He comes today, this morning, to share with you the joy, the encouragement and the forgiveness of Easter.

While very ill, John Knox, the founder of the Presbyterian Church in Scotland, called to his wife and said, "Read me that Scripture where I first cast my anchor." After he listened to the beautiful prayer of Jesus recorded in John 17, he seemed to forget his weakness. He began to pray, interceding earnestly for his fellowmen. He prayed for the ungodly who had thus far rejected the gospel. He pleaded in behalf of people who had been recently converted. And he requested protection for the Lord's servants, many of whom were facing persecution.

As Knox prayed, his spirit went Home to be with the Lord. The man of whom Queen Mary had said, "I fear his prayers more than I do the armies of my enemies," ministered through prayer until the moment of his death.

The following quotation is from a Christian man who has been an invalid all his life, one of those lonely and obscure people who live in constant pain, who do not know what it means to be able to use their physical body in any way without pain and suffering:

“Loneliness is not a thing of itself, not an evil sent to rob us of the joys of life. Loneliness, loss, pain, sorrow, these are disciplines, God’s gifts to drive us to his very heart, to increase our capacity for him, to sharpen our sensitivities and understanding, to temper our spiritual lives so that they may become channels of his mercy to others and so bear fruit for his kingdom. But these disciplines must be seized upon and used, not thwarted. They must not be seen as excuses for living in the shadow of half-lives, but as messengers, however painful, to bring our souls into vital contact with the living God, that our lives may be filled to overflowing with himself in ways that may, perhaps, be impossible to those who know less of life’s darkness.”

Tony Campolo tells the story of a black Baptist preacher in the inner city of Philadelphia who preached a sermon Tony says he'll never forget. Tony preached first. He was "hot," so "hot" he says, that he even stopped and listened to himself. He sat down and said to his pastor: "Now see if you can top that one!"

"Son," said the black pastor, "you ain't seen nothin' yet." For an hour and a half the pastor repeated these words over and over again: "It's Friday, but Sunday's a comin'."

"I've never heard anything like it," Tony said. "He just kept saying it. The congregation was spellbound by the power of it."

"It's Friday. Mary, Jesus' mother is crying her eyes out. That's her son up there on the cross. He's dying the agonizing death of crucifixion as a criminal. But it's only Friday," the preacher said. "Sunday's a comin'.

"The apostles were really down and out. Jesus, their leader, was being killed by evil men. But it was only Friday. Sunday is a comin'.

"The Devil thought he had won. 'You thought you could outwit me,' he said, 'but I've got you now.' But it was only Friday. Sunday is a comin'."

"He went on like that for 30 minutes, 40 minutes, an hour. Each time he said, 'It's Friday,' the crowd began to respond, 'but Sunday's comin'. An hour and 15 minutes.

"It's Friday and evil has triumphed over good. Jesus is dying up there on the cross. The world is turned upside down. This shouldn't happen. But it's only Friday. Sunday's a comin'.

Mary Magdalene was out of her mind with grief. Her Lord was being killed. Jesus had turned her life from sin to grace. Now he was dead. But it's only Friday. Sunday's a comin'."

The place was rocking. For an hour and a half. "Friday! But Sunday's a comin'. Friday. But Sunday is a comin'.

"The sisters and the brothers are suffering. It just isn't fair...all they have to go through, but it's only Friday. Sunday is comin'."

"I was exhausted," Tony said. "It was the best sermon I've ever heard. The old preacher was saying it and the people were with him. 'It's Friday, but Sunday is a comin'. It was powerful," Tony said. "It was personal."

The following incident is vouched for by a Church of England clergyman who knew all the circumstances:

A young woman, who had been brought up in a Christian home and who had often had very serious convictions in regard to the importance of coming to Christ, chose instead to take the way of the world. Much against the wishes of her godly mother, she insisted on keeping company with a wild, hilarious crowd, who lived only for the passing moment and tried to forget the things of eternity. Again and again she was pleaded with to turn to Christ, but she persistently refused to heed the admonitions addressed to her.

Finally, she was taken with a very serious illness. All that medical science could do for her was done in order to bring about her recovery, but it soon became evident that the case was hopeless and death was staring her in the face. Still she was hard and obdurate when urged to turn to God in repentance and take the lost sinner's place and trust the lost sinner's Saviour.

One night she awoke suddenly out of a sound sleep, a frightened look in her eyes, and asked excitedly, "Mother, what is Ezekiel 7:8,9?"

Her mother said, "What do you mean, my dear?"

She replied that she had had a most vivid dream. She thought there was a Presence in the room, who very solemnly said to her, "Read Ezekiel 7:8,9." Not recalling the verses in question, the mother reached for a Bible. As she opened it, her heart sank as she saw the words, but she read them aloud to the dying girl:

"Now I will shortly pour out my fury upon thee, and accomplish mine anger upon thee: and I will judge thee according to thy ways, and will recompense thee for all thine abominations. And mine eye shall not spare, neither will I have pity: I will recompense thee according to thy ways and thine abominations that are in the midst of thee; and ye shall know that I am the Lord that smiteth."

The poor sufferer, with a look of horror on her face, sank back on the pillow, utterly exhausted, and in a few moments she was in eternity. Once more it had been demonstrated that grace rejected brings judgment at last.

The gospel tells rebellious men that God is reconciled, that justice is satisfied, that sin has been atoned for, that the judgment of the guilty may be revoked, the condemnation of the sinner cancelled, the curse of the Law blotted out, the gates of hell closed, the portals of heaven opened wide, the power of sin subdued, the guilty conscience healed, the broken heart comforted, the sorrow and misery of the Fall undone.

God called Sarah, too! We talk so much about God's call to Abraham that we can easily forget that God called Sarah as well. The story is told in Genesis 17. This old story begins with God's call to Abraham. It then moves to Sarah. "As for Sarah," God says, "she shall no longer be called Sarai but Sarah shall be her name." "I will bless her ..." God promises, "and she shall give rise to nations; kings of people shall come from her" (Genesis 17:16).

We can only imagine the solemnity of the moment when God made this promise to Abraham and Sarah. Abraham broke the solemnity. He fell on his face laughing at the very thought of God's promise. "Can a child be born to a man who is 100 years old?" Abraham laughed to himself. "Can Sarah, who is 90 years old, bear a child?" Abraham's laughter, it turns out, is the laughter of unbelief. He doesn't believe that God can keep this promise. The Lord has to scold Abraham a bit for his unseemly laughter. "No," God says firmly, "your wife shall bear you a son, and you shall name him Isaac" (Genesis 17:19). The Lord, it seems, also has a sense of humor. The name Isaac means: "he laughs."

Very soon thereafter the Lord visited Abraham in the guise of three messengers. Abraham and Sarah scurried around like mad making their home suitable for a visit from the Lord. They put on their finest spread. As the meal begins we hear that the Lord has made this appearance in order to speak with Sarah. "Where is Sarah your wife?" the Lord said to Abraham. Abraham had laughed off God's promise to Sarah. But the Lord perseveres. The Lord speaks the promise again in Sarah's hearing. "I will surely return to you in due season and your wife Sarah shall have a son" (Genesis 18:10).

This time it was Sarah who laughed. "After I have grown old, and my husband is old, shall I have pleasure?" she mused (Genesis 18:12). Sarah joined her husband in the laughter of unbelief. For the Lord, however, this was not a laughing matter. The Lord was angry with all this laughter of unbelief. "Is anything too wonderful for the Lord?" the Lord says in reprimand of Sarah's laughter. Sarah protested. "I did not laugh," she said to the Lord in fear. "Oh yes you did laugh," the Lord replied (Genesis 18:14-15).

Now a little laughter cannot dissuade the Lord. The Lord had made a promise to Sarah. The Lord kept that promise. The Lord means what the Lord says! Sarah did conceive and bear a son. What joy this son must have brought into the life of Abraham and Sarah! They named him "laughter," Isaac, as the one who promised had instructed them.

But we're not done with the laughing. Now it was Sarah's turn to laugh. "God has brought laughter for me; everyone who hears will laugh with me," Sarah said. "Who would ever have said to Abraham that Sarah would nurse children? Yet I have born him a son in his old age" (Genesis 21:6-7). Sarah's laughter here is clearly a sign of her faith. At least that's how the author of the book of Hebrews understands the story. Sarah's laughter has turned from the laughter of unbelief to the laughter of belief. She has heard the promise. She has conceived. She has given birth. She has believed it all. And she has laughed about it all. As Sarah is our witness, what better response can be given to this promise-making, promise-keeping Lord?