This Day in History: Lest We Forget

They shall not grow old,

as we that are left grow old;

Age shall not weary them, 

nor the years condemn. 

At the going down of the sun 

and in the morning

We Will Remember Them. 

The Ode

Lest We Forget.

Today is ANZAC day. It's a day when we remember the landings in 1915 of Australian and New Zealand troops on the beaches of Gallipoli. We also remember the sacrifices of all the troops who fought to defend our freedom in the many conflicts since that day. It's also a time to remember our troops who are still serving overseas and their families. They're willingly putting their lives daily on the lines for us to be safe and free. Yes, there is no greater love than a friend lay down his life for his friends (see John 15:13). 

Find out more of the history of the ANZACs in WWI from the Australian War Memorial website 

Simpson and his donkey
Read the story behind this sculpture

At this time we can also remember the greatest sacrifice in the world that was done for us - how our Saviour gave His life to purchase our eternal freedom from sin and hell and gave us the gift of eternal life with Him. Thank you Lord Jesus for this sacrifice...Your love teaches us what love and sacrifice really are. 

There is one hymn I'd like to share with you today: 'Abide with me' 

This hymn became a great comfort to many during WWI both to our troops on the battlefields and to those back home. 

sung by Hayley Westenra

God Bless, 

An Unexpected, Life-changing Encounter

Good Friday is a very special day. A day when we remember the heavy price our Saviour, Jesus Christ the Son of God, paid for our salvation and redemption. His precious blood is what cleanses us from our sins and gives us eternal life. Without the events of that day all humanity would be in hopeless misery and darkness now and for all eternity. Neither you nor I would be able to know God, love Him, and approach Him. Thank you, Lord for the cross and the great price you paid for my salvation.

Now, on that Friday long ago, an suspecting man was thrust into the greatest event in history. It was then that He encountered Someone who changed his life forever.
The Gospels tell briefly of that encounter, but in it one could read a lifetime story. 

'And they compel one Simon of Cyrenian, who passed by, coming out of the country, the father of Alexander and Rufus, to bear his cross.' (Mark 15:21)
'And as they led him away, they laid hold upon one Simon, a Cyrenian, coming out of the country, and on him they laid the cross, that he might bear it after Jesus.' (Luke 23:26)


In his book, The First Easter, Peter Marshall imagines the scene of the procession to Calvary and that special encounter between Christ and Simon of Cyrene.   

It was an ugly situation as the procession went slowly along this way that will for ever be known as the Via Dolorosa [way of suffering or sorrow]. Meanwhile - Simon of Cyrene was approaching the city gate. 

He had just arrived in Judea, and was about to enter the Holy City, as a pilgrim for the festival. 

He had spent the night in some village just outside, and, rising early in the morning, had bathed and dressed himself carefully...with a tingling excitement because soon he would be in Jerusalem. The wonder of Jerusalem, that exiles had described, he would now see with his own eyes...the sounds of the Holy City...he would hear with his own ears. Yet He tried to keep calm, and as he set out on the short walk that lay between him and the city, he was very thoughtful. 

He walked along the winding path that sometimes ran through the fields...Sometimes along narrow roads between hedges where there was the fragrance of pomegranate trees and honeysuckle... Sometimes along the torturous course of the dried-up river bed where the earth was cracked with the heat of the sun.

       Sometimes it wound up the jagged hillside to twist down among the giant boulders and huge rocks behind which many a robber might hide. He walked along beside the tall rushes, where he frightened conveys of birds that flew wheeling, diving... 

And he walked through the divided crops, ripening in the sunshine. 

He could hear the sheep bleating on the inhospitable hillside, while the morning sun climbed higher and chased away the mists that lay in the hollows, trailing down into the ravines like tulle scarves.  

As he walked along, he was thinking of the temple and its glories, the history of his people and the worship of his fathers... 

Already he could see ahead of him the domes of the temple gleaming gold in the sunshine, could hear the pigeons that had their nest in the cupolas and gables, and he thought of his own city looking from her height over the blue waters of the Mediterranean. 

Then as he neared the city gate he began to hear shouting that grew louder and louder. 

There seemed to Simon to be a sort of chant running through the noise... 

        a refrain that men's voices made clearer and clear er until he thought he could recognise the word 

        "Crucify 

crucify 

      crucify...."  

They met right at the city gate ... Simon of Cyrene and the crowd. He found that the procession was headed by some Roman soldiers; he would recognise them anywhere... 

          the insignia on their shields... 

       and their uniforms... 

He could tell a legionnaire when he saw one.  

He had little time to gather impressions, and as for asking questions, that was impossible. He could not make himself heard in all the rabble. 

The noise and confusion with its sinister and malice made Simon shudder.  

Simon was aware of two moving walls of Roman steel. There was something strange about it all but, before he could understand it, Simon was caught up in it - sucked into the procession, and swept out through the gate again. 

Simon was excited, afraid...He was puzzled and ill at ease. He scanned face after face quickly, looking for some light of pity... 

          of friendliness, 

                 of welcome... 

But he found none. 

He felt the drama of the situation, the cruelty of it...And its horror crept over him like a clammy mist - and he shivered.  

He was captured by the procession, stumbling along, tightly wedged in the very heart of the crowd. 

Then he noticed that there were three men who staggered under the weight of crosses of rough, heavy wood on which these unfortunates were going to die.  

Each man was bent beneath the burden he carried, and perspiration moistened his drawn face. 

One of them was strangely appealing, His face was arresting. Simon felt his gaze returning again and again to that one face. He noticed that blood was trickling down from wounds in the brow. 

On His face there was a twig of long-thorned brier, twisted around in the shape of a crown and pushed down cruelly on His head.  

Simon watched with beating heart as they shuffled along, fascinated by the look in those eyes. 

He could see nothing else. Everything was forgotten, even why he had come to Jerusalem. This public execution had driven everything else from his mind. 

Forgotten for the moment were the temple and its services, 

         messages he brought from friends far away... 

               things he had been asked to get... 

Everything was forgotten as he watched this Man carrying the cross.  

And then He looked up! His eyes almost blinded by the blood that trickled down from under that grotesque crown that was on his head... 

Why didn't somebody wipe His eyes? 

And as Simon looked at Him, He looked at Simon...And the eyes of the two ... met! 

How did Christ know what was in Simon's heart?What was it that made Him smile, a slow, sad smile that seemed to still Simon's wildly beating heart and give him courage? 

The look that passed between them Simon never forgot as long as he lived, for no man can look at Jesus of Nazareth and remain the same. (my emphasis)

As these two looked at each other, the Man with the cross stumbled, and the soldiers, moved more by impatience than pity, seeing that the Nazarene was almost too exhausted to carry the cross any further, laid hands on Simon and conscripted him to carry it.

He was the nearest man. 

He was strong.

His shoulders were broad!

Simon's heart almost stopped beating; he tried to speak, but no words came.

A few minutes before, he had been a lonely pilgrim quietly approaching the Holy City. And now, there he was in the midst of a procession of howling men and women, walking between two moving walls of Roman steel, and carrying on his shoulder a cross on which someone was going to die!

The look of gratitude and love that flashed from the eyes of Jesus as Simon lifted the load from those tired, bleeding shoulders did something to the man from Cyrene, and in an instant life was changed. (my emphasis)

Simon never could explain it afterwards - how it happened! 

There are moments of spiritual insight that defy the limits of syntax and grammar. 

There are some things too deep for words.

But all at once he saw the meaning of pain...

          understood the significance of suffering...

The meaning of prayer was unveiled...

          and the message of the Scriptures.

He saw prophecy take form and live before him. 

He remembered words of the psalmist and the prophets of old, words that until now had been without sense of meaning, but now... he saw ... and understood. (my emphasis)

Yes, the one who meets Jesus of Nazareth will never be the same again. No-one can remain neutral. If you haven't yet had such a personal encounter with Jesus Christ, ask Him now. He is near and always ready to heal and forgive. If you have had that wonderful encounter already, take a moment to thank Him for His sacrifice and ask Him to refresh that relationship. This is what I pray. Amen.

God Bless, 
 

_________________
Reference: 
Peter Marshall, The First Easter, (ed.) Catherine Marshall, London: Hodder and Staughton, 1959, pp. 54-59 

Letter in a Wallet and God's Amazing Providence

Today I've decided to share something that I'm also sharing on Not An Average Girl. I came across an amazing and touching story in the really good book, The Grand Weaver by Ravi Zacharias. He found that story, 'Letter in the Wallet' by Arnold Fine, in the September 1980 issue of the Reader's Digest. Here is Zacharias' retelling of it and I hope it amazes and encourages you as it did to me. 

[Arnold] Fine tells how one bitterly cold day he stumbled upon a wallet on the street. It had just three dollars in it and a crumpled-up letter that obviously had been carried around for many years. The letter was dated sixty years earlier and began, "Dear Michael". The beautifully written, sadly worded letter ended a romance because of a parent's demands. The last line promised, "I will always love you, Michael," and was signed, "Yours, Hannah." 

Fine decided to try to track down the owner of the wallet. Using Hannah's address, still legible on the letter, he finally retrieved a telephone number. But when he called it, he was disappointed (though not surprised) to learn that Hannah and her family had long ago moved out of the house. The person on the other end of the line, however, knew the name of the nursing home to which Hannah's mother had gone. So Fine called the nursing home and learned that Hannah's mother was no longer living. When he told them what he he was trying to do, however, they gave him the address and telephone number they had on file for Hannah. He called the number and found out that Hannah herself now lived in a nursing home. Fine asked for the name of the home and found the phone number. Soon he was able to confirm that, yes, Hannah was a resident there. As soon as he could, Fine decided to visit the nursing home and try to talk with Hannah.

The director met him at the door and told him that Hannah was watching television on the third floor. An escort quickly took Fine there and then left. Fine introduced himself to Hannah and explained how he had found a letter in a wallet. He showed her the letter and asked if she was the one who had written it. 

"Yes," Hannah replied, "I sent this letter to Michael because I was only sixteen and my mother wouldn't let us see each other anymore. He was very handsome, you know, like Sean Connery." Fine could see both the twinkle in her eye and the joy on her face that spoke of her love for Michael. "yes, Michael Goldstein was his name. If you find him, tell him that I think of him often and never did marry anyone. No one ever matched up to him," she declared, discreetly brushing tears from her eyes. Fine thanked her for her time and left.  

As Mr. Fine was leaving the home, the security guard at the door asked him about his visit. He told the story and said, "At least I was able to get the last name from her. His name is Michael Goldstein." 

"Goldstein?" repeated the guard. "There is a Mike Goldstein who lives here on the eighth floor." Fine turned around and went back inside, this time to the eighth floor, where he asked for Michael Goldstein. When directed to an elderly gentleman, he asked the man, "Have you lost your wallet?"

"Oh, yes, I lost it when I was out for a walk the other day," Michael answered.  

Fine handed him the wallet and asked if it was his. Michael was delighted to see it again and, full of gratitude to the finder, proceeded to thank him for returning it when Fine interrupted him.

"I have something to tell you," Fine admitted. "I read the letter in your wallet." 

Caught off guard, Michael paused for a moment and then asked, "You read the letter?" 

"Yes, sir, and I have further news for you," Fine continued. "I think I know where Hannah is." 

Michael grew pale. "you know where she is? How is she?" 

"She's fine, and just as pretty as when you knew her." 

"Could you tell me where she is? I'd love to call her. You know, when that letter came to me, my life ended. I've never gotten married. I never stopped loving her." 

"Come with me," said Fine. He took Michael by the elbow and led him to the elevator and down to the third floor. By this time, the director of the building had rejoined them. They came to Hannah's room. 

"Hannah," the director whispered, gesturing toward Michael, "Do you know this man?"

She adjusted her glasses and looked at the man as she searched her memory bank. Then with a choked voice, Michael spoke up. "Hannah, it's Michael." She stood, as he walked over to her. They embraced and held on to each other for as long as they could stay steady on their feet. They sat down, holding hands, and between their tears they filled in the story of the long years that had passed. Feeling as though they had intruded on a sacred moment, Mr. Fine and the director slowly slipped away to leave the two alone to enjoy their reunion. 

Three weeks later, Arnold Fine received an invitation to attend the wedding of Hannah, seventy-six years of age, and Michael, seventy-eight. Fine closed his story by saying, "How good the work of the Lord is." 

Ravi Zacharias, The Grand Weaver, Zondervan, 2007, p.111-113 

What a story! It's got many deep lessons. The greatest one, of course, is God's sovereignty and providence. It was indeed a match made in heaven. He works the little threads of our lives and weaves it to His will. While it is being weaved, it is often difficult to discern the pattern, but God knows and He works everything beautifully and sweetly. 

Ravi Zacharias also points to the faithfulness of Hannah and Michael to their love to each other. Hannah loved Michael faithfully but chose to honour her parent's wishes, too. Michael also loved her and honoured her desire to please her parents. God honoured that and gave them a sweet and really heavenly romantic reunion, through Arnold Fine who was willing to trouble himself to learn the story. 

God is good and faithful. 

Nothing Shall Separate Us From God's Love: A Testimony

Today I just want to share a testimony that touched and encouraged me deeply and still does whenever I hear it. It is of a Vietnamese Christian, Hien Pham, during and after the Vietnam War. It really illustrates our Heavenly Father's eternal love, grace, mercy and faithfulness to us, His erring and weak children. Hien is a very close friend of the Godly evangelist and Christian apologist, Ravi Zacharias. Ravi Zacharias loves to relate this testimony in many of his talks and sermons. I quote it here from one his keynote address delivered on the National Day of Prayer, 2008, in Washington, D.C.: 

Of all the stories I’ve told after thirty years of traveling, this one is nearest to my heart, probably the most moving to me. In 1971, I preached in Vietnam. I was in my mid twenties; my interpreter was seventeen years old. His name was Hien Pham. We covered the length and breadth of the country. The American troops carried us around or we went by motorbike. How our lives were rescued, I don’t know. But we came back safely. A revival broke out in the country through the preaching of these two young men.

Hien was my interpreter. In the city Natrang, I held him close, embraced him, and said, “Goodbye, Hien. I’ll probably never see you again.” I flew to Saigon and on back where I was living at that time in Toronto. 

        Seventeen years later, my phone rang. I was in   Vancouver speaking and the phone rang at 11:00 p.m. 

The man said, “Brother Ravi.” 

There’s only one person who called me with that intonation that way. 

I said, “Hien, is that you?”  

he said, “Yes.” 

I said, “Oh my word! Where are you?” 

He said, “California.” 

I said, “What are you doing here?” 

He said, “Have you got a few minutes?” 

I said, “Yes.” 

He said, “After Vietnam fell, I was imprisoned by the Viet Cong because I’d worked with the Americans, worked with people like you. They put me behind bars, they took away all English from me, took away my Bible from me, tried to knock faith out of me. I was only allowed to read Marx and Engels in French and Vietnamese. After about a year in there, so worn out, I said, ‘Maybe you don’t exist, God. I’m giving up all hope. I don’t believe in you. Tomorrow when I wake up, I’m not going to pray.’   

That morning, he was assigned to clean the latrines. 

He said, “Brother Ravi, it’s the dirtiest place on earth you’d want to be. I bound a handkerchief around my mouth cleaning the wet floor, and I saw a little bin with dirty pieces of paper, with human excrement in it. But something told me as I looked there, there was one paper, a piece of paper with English.” He said, “I hadn’t read English for so long. I washed it off, put it in my hip pocket, waited for everybody to go to bed, to sleep. Lights were out.

I took out my flashlight under my mosquito net. I flashed it. On the right hand corner it said, Romans chapter 8.” He said, “I started reading and cried. ‘Oh, my dear Lord, you didn’t leave me one day without you.’ ‘For all things work together for good to them that love God; to those that are called according to his purpose. For who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Neither things present, nor things to come, nor life nor death.’” 

Hien said, “Next morning I went back to the commanding officer. I said, ‘Do you mind if I clean the latrines again today?’”  

He went there every day. He found another page from the New Testament. The commanding officer had been given a Bible a long time ago. He was tearing out a page every day using it as toilet paper. Hien was washing it and using it for his devotions every day. 

I said, “Where are you now?” 

He said, “I’m at Berkeley doing my business degree.” 

I said, “I can’t believe this, Hien.” 

He said, “I’m in America.” 

I said, “How did that happen?” 

He said, “I was released and I built a boat with 52 others. Four days before my release, before our escape, four Viet Cong came armed to the teeth and grabbed me and said, ‘Are you trying to escape?’ I lied and said, ‘No.’ They said, ‘Are you telling us the truth?’” He said, “Yes.”

They let him go. He got on his knees, and said, “God, I lied. I’m running my own life. I lied. If you really want me to tell them the truth, let them come back again.” He said, “I sincerely hoped that prayer would never be answered. Hours before we left, the four of them came with their machine guns, grabbed me by the collar, rammed me against the wall. ‘You’re lying, aren’t you?’”

Hien said, “Yes, I’m escaping with 52 others. Are you going to imprison me again?” They said, “No. we want to go with you.’

“Brother Ravi, if it weren’t for them we would never have made it. They knew how to navigate the ocean on that boat, get us safely to Thailand. I was then listed as a United Nations refugee. I’m here in America now doing my business degree.”

He runs a financial planning company now in California. He came and visited us, wanted me to officiate at his wedding, and he looked at my kids and said, “Don’t ever think God is far away from you. That intimate relationship is the greatest thrill of anyone’s life, for He seeks such to have fellowship with Him.” 

May God bless our nation and may God call us to prayer. May the greatest days be ahead...God bless you.

 And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose...

What shall we then say to these things? If God be for us, who can be against us?

 He that spared not his own Son, but delivered him up for us all, how shall he not with him also freely give us all things?

Who shall lay any thing to the charge of God's elect? It is God that justifieth.

 Who is he that condemneth? It is Christ that died, yea rather, that is risen again, who is even at the right hand of God, who also maketh intercession for us.

 Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword?

As it is written, For thy sake we are killed all the day long; we are accounted as sheep for the slaughter.

 Nay, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him that loved us.

 For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come,

 Nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

(Romans 8:28, 31-39)

May it bless you today as it has blessed me. Nothing can separate us from His love. Amen! 


God Bless,


*************************
This Testimony is also found in Ravi Zacharias' book: Deliver Us From Evil.