This story is the result of a request by a young Christian lady, Nicole Diduch, from Whitney, Texas. I served with her, and others, during the summer of 2011 on a Joplin, MO, tornado recovery effort. She wanted to know the story of how I began making little wooden crosses.
When I first started making little wooden crosses, I made them for Walk to Emmaus Weekends. I made them to be used as "pillow agape" for the participants of the 72-hour spiritual weekend. For men, the cross was given as a "pocket cross", for a guy to simply put/carry in his pocket. For women, the cross had a magnetic strip on the back in order to make it a refrigerator magnet. I had been making these for several years and had probably given away a couple thousand in this way.
Then in about 1995, two of our daughters, who were going to college, at the time, went on a College Chrysalis in Dumas, TX at New Beginnings, out in the country. It was timing issue to get them from college and back during this weekend. One of the daughters went to school in Canyon at WTAMU; it was not problem for her. But the other daughter went to school at UNM, in Albuquerque, NM, and had to fly back from the Amarillo airport. But, no problem there, either, as God did provide.
It was just before this walk that I was in my shop at Sundown ISD, in Sundown, Texas. I was making a bunch of these crosses for their weekend. My wife came in while I was in the process of finishing about 2-3000 crosses. I was taking each one as I finished cutting it, kissing it, and saying a prayer, “God bless the person that gets this cross.” It was a very simple gesture, and I was moving right along. I had done about 3-400 when she said, “Well, silly, you could get through a lot faster if you would just put them in the bucket and just pray over the entire lot.” I agreed with her and poured all the crosses into the one bucket. In the process, I said, “Well, I just wanted to make sure that the crosses that went to our daughters had been prayed over.” You would have thought that I had slapped her with a wet towel! She said, “Pour them out and let’s pray over each one like you were doing in the beginning”! So that is "the rest of the story."
Now, this part of the story that Nicole has not heard.
At the end of the Chrysalis weekend, we were waiting for the ending program. There was a long wait in the sanctuary of that facility. We sang a lot of songs, and heard some folks give various presentations. During a pause in the waiting time, I saw a cross, a much bigger wooden cross, 12-15” tall, that was used as the team cross for the weekend. It was on the altar, so I sauntered up to the altar to check it out. I had made several of these crosses over the years, as well, and wanted to see how my crosses measured up to this one. I could tell very quickly that my crosses looked a lot better than this one. It was chattered and did not have a very clean, polished surface. It looked rather crude, I thought to myself. I was feeling really proud of myself and the crosses that I had been making.
Then, the closing ceremony started, and the participants began to file in. In the process of the closing, the lay leader went over to the cross and picked it up. He told the story of how he had labored for quite a long time to get the cross to look more finished, more polished. It seemed that the longer he worked on it, the worse it looked. Finally, he gave up, and threw it in the trash can. As it hit the bottom of the trash can, he heard a voice, God told him, ”You were junk, and I did not throw you away!”
Wow, guess how that made me feel?
I was so ashamed of how I had criticized his cross.
Monday, October 3, 2011
Giving to the Lord by Wayne Dobbins
There is a song about giving to the Lord. It is a very simple concept once you figure out that the 'giving' does not have to be something big, fantastic, and really mind boggling. It can be something very simple, something that the Kingdom needs an 'obedient' believer to do. I think that the hardest thing for believers to do is to act on their believing. We are not asked to be successful, but only obedient.
A few months ago, I went with some volunteers to Joplin, Mo., to help with the volunteer efforts to clean up after the devastating tornado. It was quite an experience when you see that much destruction...a path 2 miles wide and 6 miles long, I think. The group that I was with was there for a week and did a plethora of jobs, from yard cleanup to covering windows/roofs with plastic; from securing services for folks to scheduling repairs. All week long, the main thing that I did was to pray with them individually about their needs and try to encourage them with the word of God, and how we need to give Him thanks in all things.
About half way through the week, as I became tired and tireder (if that is a word), I had to pray each night that the Lord would bless me with an abundant rest for the chores of the next day. Forget the idea that you need to double, or triple your rest. I needed way more than that; I needed an ample amount--exactly what I would need to face the needs of the next day. So, there you have it, I am praying like a Big Dog, that I will be able to continue with the stress, heat, humidity, all of the things that go along with this type of endeavor. So, what happens? God wakes me up in the middle of this perfect rest that I had prayed for....a mere 2 hours at that time, and showed me a ministry that He needed--a cross ministry. He even provided the name--Buy In Now 2 Salvation. Kinda catchy phrasing of the need to accept/provide for eternity now, instead of later. To delay no longer to accept God's grace.
Now, understand, that I had been making these little wooden crosses for 20 years as agape for Walk to Emmaus weekends. I had even made bigger ones for lay leaders, and for tables during the weekend. In those 20 years, I had made, according to my mathematical computations and calculations, 20,150. In the past 10 years, or so, I had begun to give them to mission groups that were taking them on trips around the globe. For instance, on a plane trip a few years back, there were 2 young ladies going to some locations in Africa, and I asked if I could mail them some crosses to take with them? Of course, they said yes.
But God had somewhat bigger ideas than this lackadaisical approach to distribution of these crosses. In this vision, He told me that I needed to advertise, if you will, with something like a website.....www.BIN2Salvation.com was born...with the expert help of my technical staff, my daughter, a Christian songwriter from Nashville, Tn. The other big stipulation that God insisted on was the number of crosses to distribute--100,000+!!!! Good grief, it took me 20 years to get to 20,000. Does God have plans for me to live 80 more years in order to accomplish this?
I don't think so, I just need to get to work.
A few months ago, I went with some volunteers to Joplin, Mo., to help with the volunteer efforts to clean up after the devastating tornado. It was quite an experience when you see that much destruction...a path 2 miles wide and 6 miles long, I think. The group that I was with was there for a week and did a plethora of jobs, from yard cleanup to covering windows/roofs with plastic; from securing services for folks to scheduling repairs. All week long, the main thing that I did was to pray with them individually about their needs and try to encourage them with the word of God, and how we need to give Him thanks in all things.
About half way through the week, as I became tired and tireder (if that is a word), I had to pray each night that the Lord would bless me with an abundant rest for the chores of the next day. Forget the idea that you need to double, or triple your rest. I needed way more than that; I needed an ample amount--exactly what I would need to face the needs of the next day. So, there you have it, I am praying like a Big Dog, that I will be able to continue with the stress, heat, humidity, all of the things that go along with this type of endeavor. So, what happens? God wakes me up in the middle of this perfect rest that I had prayed for....a mere 2 hours at that time, and showed me a ministry that He needed--a cross ministry. He even provided the name--Buy In Now 2 Salvation. Kinda catchy phrasing of the need to accept/provide for eternity now, instead of later. To delay no longer to accept God's grace.
Now, understand, that I had been making these little wooden crosses for 20 years as agape for Walk to Emmaus weekends. I had even made bigger ones for lay leaders, and for tables during the weekend. In those 20 years, I had made, according to my mathematical computations and calculations, 20,150. In the past 10 years, or so, I had begun to give them to mission groups that were taking them on trips around the globe. For instance, on a plane trip a few years back, there were 2 young ladies going to some locations in Africa, and I asked if I could mail them some crosses to take with them? Of course, they said yes.
But God had somewhat bigger ideas than this lackadaisical approach to distribution of these crosses. In this vision, He told me that I needed to advertise, if you will, with something like a website.....www.BIN2Salvation.com was born...with the expert help of my technical staff, my daughter, a Christian songwriter from Nashville, Tn. The other big stipulation that God insisted on was the number of crosses to distribute--100,000+!!!! Good grief, it took me 20 years to get to 20,000. Does God have plans for me to live 80 more years in order to accomplish this?
I don't think so, I just need to get to work.
Saturday, October 1, 2011
A Cross Story by Wayne Dobbins
This story is the result of a request by a young Christian lady, Nicole Diduch, from Whitney, Texas. I served with her, and others, during the summer of 2011 on a Joplin, MO, tornado recovery effort. She wanted to know the story of how I began making little wooden crosses.
When I first started making little wooden crosses, I made them for Walk to Emmaus Weekends. I made them to be used as "pillow agape" for the participants of the 72-hour spiritual weekend. For men, the cross was given as a "pocket cross", for a guy to simply put/carry in his pocket. For women, the cross had a magnetic strip on the back in order to make it a refrigerator magnet. I had been making these for several years and had probably given away a couple thousand in this way.
Then in about 1995, two of our daughters, who were going to college, at the time, went on a College Chrysalis in Dumas, TX at New Beginnings, out in the country. It was timing issue to get them from college and back during this weekend. One of the daughters went to school in Canyon at WTAMU; it was not problem for her. But the other daughter went to school at UNM, in Albuquerque, NM, and had to fly back from the Amarillo airport. But, no problem there, either, as God did provide.
It was just before this walk that I was in my shop at Sundown ISD, in Sundown, Texas. I was making a bunch of these crosses for their weekend. My wife came in while I was in the process of finishing about 2-3000 crosses. I was taking each one as I finished cutting it, kissing it, and saying a prayer, “God bless the person that gets this cross.” It was a very simple gesture, and I was moving right along. I had done about 3-400 when she said, “Well, silly, you could get through a lot faster if you would just put them in the bucket and just pray over the entire lot.” I agreed with her and poured all the crosses into the one bucket. In the process, I said, “Well, I just wanted to make sure that the crosses that went to our daughters had been prayed over.” You would have thought that I had slapped her with a wet towel! She said, “Pour them out and let’s pray over each one like you were doing in the beginning”! So that is "the rest of the story."
Now, this part of the story that Nicole has not heard.
At the end of the Chrysalis weekend, we were waiting for the ending program. There was a long wait in the sanctuary of that facility. We sang a lot of songs, and heard some folks give various presentations. During a pause in the waiting time, I saw a cross, a much bigger wooden cross, 12-15” tall, that was used as the team cross for the weekend. It was on the altar, so I sauntered up to the altar to check it out. I had made several of these crosses over the years, as well, and wanted to see how my crosses measured up to this one. I could tell very quickly that my crosses looked a lot better than this one. It was chattered and did not have a very clean, polished surface. It looked rather crude, I thought to myself. I was feeling really proud of myself and the crosses that I had been making.
Then, the closing ceremony started, and the participants began to file in. In the process of the closing, the lay leader went over to the cross and picked it up. He told the story of how he had labored for quite a long time to get the cross to look more finished, more polished. It seemed that the longer he worked on it, the worse it looked. Finally, he gave up, and threw it in the trash can. As it hit the bottom of the trash can, he heard a voice, God told him, ”You were junk, and I did not throw you away!”
Wow, guess how that made me feel?
I was so ashamed of how I had criticized his cross.
When I first started making little wooden crosses, I made them for Walk to Emmaus Weekends. I made them to be used as "pillow agape" for the participants of the 72-hour spiritual weekend. For men, the cross was given as a "pocket cross", for a guy to simply put/carry in his pocket. For women, the cross had a magnetic strip on the back in order to make it a refrigerator magnet. I had been making these for several years and had probably given away a couple thousand in this way.
Then in about 1995, two of our daughters, who were going to college, at the time, went on a College Chrysalis in Dumas, TX at New Beginnings, out in the country. It was timing issue to get them from college and back during this weekend. One of the daughters went to school in Canyon at WTAMU; it was not problem for her. But the other daughter went to school at UNM, in Albuquerque, NM, and had to fly back from the Amarillo airport. But, no problem there, either, as God did provide.
It was just before this walk that I was in my shop at Sundown ISD, in Sundown, Texas. I was making a bunch of these crosses for their weekend. My wife came in while I was in the process of finishing about 2-3000 crosses. I was taking each one as I finished cutting it, kissing it, and saying a prayer, “God bless the person that gets this cross.” It was a very simple gesture, and I was moving right along. I had done about 3-400 when she said, “Well, silly, you could get through a lot faster if you would just put them in the bucket and just pray over the entire lot.” I agreed with her and poured all the crosses into the one bucket. In the process, I said, “Well, I just wanted to make sure that the crosses that went to our daughters had been prayed over.” You would have thought that I had slapped her with a wet towel! She said, “Pour them out and let’s pray over each one like you were doing in the beginning”! So that is "the rest of the story."
Now, this part of the story that Nicole has not heard.
At the end of the Chrysalis weekend, we were waiting for the ending program. There was a long wait in the sanctuary of that facility. We sang a lot of songs, and heard some folks give various presentations. During a pause in the waiting time, I saw a cross, a much bigger wooden cross, 12-15” tall, that was used as the team cross for the weekend. It was on the altar, so I sauntered up to the altar to check it out. I had made several of these crosses over the years, as well, and wanted to see how my crosses measured up to this one. I could tell very quickly that my crosses looked a lot better than this one. It was chattered and did not have a very clean, polished surface. It looked rather crude, I thought to myself. I was feeling really proud of myself and the crosses that I had been making.
Then, the closing ceremony started, and the participants began to file in. In the process of the closing, the lay leader went over to the cross and picked it up. He told the story of how he had labored for quite a long time to get the cross to look more finished, more polished. It seemed that the longer he worked on it, the worse it looked. Finally, he gave up, and threw it in the trash can. As it hit the bottom of the trash can, he heard a voice, God told him, ”You were junk, and I did not throw you away!”
Wow, guess how that made me feel?
I was so ashamed of how I had criticized his cross.
Monday, June 7, 2010
He Cares about Dogs? by Joni Nichols
We called right before we left saying we had 2 labs, etc, what would happen to them. They said they didn't have room and they would be put to sleep. We were stunned.
We sat on the couch thinking of Abraham and Isaac and prayed in tears, "We have to take them; we don't want to let them loose on the streets to eat kids or starve; if there's ANY way you can provide another way, do it, but we have to go now."
A few minutes out of town, Zach remembered a conversation months ago with a hair stylist in our home town. They had had 2 black labs that got run over, loved labs, had done loads of work on their back yard to make it lab proof. She had cut my hair and told me they wanted labs again someday, but Zach didn't even know that part. He decided to call her up. She was in the middle of a haircut. She said that actually she and her husband were just talking about wanting labs again and they wanted them about a year old. And they were black just like the ones they'd lost. She stopped her haircut and called him right then without us even asking. They wanted them. We stopped on the side of the road and zach says no tears were shed. He's lying!
They brought their 3 kids over the next morning and we had time with the dogs in the backyard telling them all about their personalities, etc. And then they drove away.
He Speaks Through Us by Chuck Elmore
One morning while sweeping rocks off the blacktop at the school where I taught, I saw the music teacher from a distance walking to her classroom. "I bet she doesn't feel appreciated," I thought. I kept sweeping, but the Lord said to me, "I appreciate her." "I hope so, God.? That's your job," I prayed. "I want you to tell her that I appreciate her," He said. At first, I questioned whether or not I'd heard from God, or if I had just been programmed by years of Sunday school lessons to know that God appreciates His servants. Then I questioned the message. "I am just supposed to walk up and say God appreciates you? Doesn't she know that already? Isn't that a little trite?" But the Spirit kept pressing, and when I finished sweeping, I went to her classroom. I went inside, but she wasn't there. I figured I was off the hook as I headed to my classroom, but then we crossed paths. I nervously cleared my throat and took the step of faith. "Um, Betty? This normally doesn't happen to me, but I feel like God wants me to tell you something." She nodded politely, not knowing what to expect. I looked?at the ground and said, "God wants me to tell you that He appreciates you." The words sounded anticlimactic, and as I stared at my shoes I mumbled something about me appreciating her too. I stole a glance at her to check her reaction, and she was crying. And I knew she wasn't crying because I appreciated her, but because God did and He audibly told her so. I learned from that not to question God's message and his prompting. God knows the whole story, even if He only reveals part of it to us. Acting in faith is our part. He prepares the works in advance, we just walk in them (Ephesians 2:10).
A First Taste of God's Provisions by Joni Nichols
I was in college, had about 50 bucks a month that i could blow on ice cream and new clothes, but I had a goal. I was going to make a demo of my music. A type of mentor, Dale Griffin, had told me, first get 500 dollars and then go to someone and make a demo. It took me 4 months to save up 200. Got a huge speeding ticket going back to Texas zooming into Roswell. 180 bucks. I knew I "derserved" it so I set out again. 4 months later had 200. Bounced 4 little checks at the end of the month. $25 dollar bank fee x 4 + 90 worth of checks = savings gone. ( What was I doing/thinking?) I was de-winded, yelling laughing, (remembering my conversation with Anna a few weeks before about God providing for her.) "ok god, if you want me to record, the YOU'RE going to have to provide it because it's taken me 8 months and I've only gotten to 200 TWICE! and this is impossible. So THERE!" It was a challenge, not a child-like expression of faith...or yes, it was child-like, like a child throwing a fit. And I went about my crappy evening. 20 minutes later I got a phone call from a random lady reminding me to come to the Golden Key Honor Society Induction Ceremony (which I joined for Resume purposes by simply filling out a postcard and sending it in at my parents urging) and only decided to go because of the punch, cookies, and coffee. Got there a week later to find no refreshments, a huge seated audience and a 2 hour program, guest speaker and all. Waste of time, and I had no friend to be with. So I made fun of the guest speaker and her LITERAL "The Little Engine that Could" speech with the guy sitting next to me and was dying of restless negative emotions. Time for the scholarship winners. What did I care? There were 2. I was the second one. The award: a check for $500.
I humbly walked back to my spot in the audience, aware of God's provision, my understanding of God changed. It was first awareness of his watchful, daliy concern for me. And though it was a long time before I understood the extent of his grace, I saw for the first time that my sufficiency was not required, and I would not have asked had my sufficiency not run out.
I humbly walked back to my spot in the audience, aware of God's provision, my understanding of God changed. It was first awareness of his watchful, daliy concern for me. And though it was a long time before I understood the extent of his grace, I saw for the first time that my sufficiency was not required, and I would not have asked had my sufficiency not run out.
A Word of Reassurance by Chuck Elmore
It was summertime, and I was in the park with a group of summer camp students. Part of our routine was to have the kids run or walk a lap while the workers stationed themselves around the park to keep an eye on the children. The day was beautiful, the Sandia Mountains stood up tall in the east, and I began to worship God and pray silently to myself. I noticed a coworker, a single mother of two teenagers, walking with the campers, and I began to pray for her. I knew she was struggling financially to put her son through private school. As she approached, I felt God prompt me to say to her, "God doesn't want you to worry about your finances. He will provide." She smiled, hugged me, said thank you, and we went on about our business. A few days later, she came up to me with an amazed expression on her face and said, "You are not going to believe this. I was called into the school's business office today. I thought they were going to remind me that I still owe $1000 on my son's tuition, but instead they told me they were waiving the remaining balance!" They gave no explanation, other than they felt they were supposed to do it. Her joy was from the forgiven debt, my joy was from sharing in God's work.
A Wagon Full of Pop Bottles and The Kingdom of God by Gary Elmore
All of us will be surprised when we enter God’s presence and He reveals events and scenes
from our lives that helped shape the eternal destiny of another – even though we didn’t have
a clue at the time. However, sometimes The Father pulls back the curtain and allows a glimpse
of the past and the result is truly amazing.
My story begins in a rural ranching area of West Texas. A small Baptist Church with a passion
for missions and a Pastor that taught us our privilege of supporting the spread of the Gospel.
In 1955, one of our Kindergarten teachers, Lola Mae Daniels, felt the call of the Master to surrender her life to foreign missions. This was unique, in that she was 59 years old, never married, and considered too old by the appointing agency. She would not be deterred! She met with our Pastor and he committed to support her desire to minister the Gospel in a foreign land. After several letter writing campaigns and many phone calls, the appointing agency agreed to a one year appointment to a Baptist school in Taiwan. She went to Taipei in the fall of 1956. Her one-year appointment became her life work and she served there for twenty years.
On the last Sunday before she left, the local Church had a commissioning service and going away fellowship in her honor. I remember how the Pastor’s words sank into my eight-year-old heart. “God has honored our congregation by choosing one of our own to serve Him in Taiwan.
We will honor Him by supporting her ministry there”. There was a special “foreign missions” box
placed in the sanctuary and the annual Lottie Moon Christmas offering always called attention to Lola Mae and the needs in Taiwan. The amount given was not the question – giving itself was.
Now, for an eight-year-old in Ozona, Texas in 1956, generating income was a problem. And,
I felt that my 50 cents per week allowance would not go too far. I discussed with my Mom ways to raise money and arrived at a plan. There was a grocery store that paid 3 cents apiece for returnable pop bottles. On Saturdays, I would pull my Radio Flyer wagon around town, hitting vacant lots, streets, and alleys, picking up an assortment of Coke, Nehi, RC Cola, Dr. Pepper, and Delaware Punch bottles. I remember the joy I felt when the fruit of my labor (probably less than ten dollars) was dropped into the Lottie Moon offering box. It was offered without reserve or condition.
Now, Flash forward twenty-five years.
I was working for a major electronics firm in Temple, Texas. Due to a meeting that was delayed, I was running late for lunch. By the time I arrived in the cafeteria, almost all the tables were taken.
I looked around the crowded dining area and noticed a young oriental engineer, with head bowed, saying grace over his meal. As he finished praying, I asked if I might sit with him. He graciously accepted my request and I sat down. As our meal progressed, I mentioned that what had drawn me to his table was his prayer before eating. I asked if he was a Christian and his yes reply opened the door for more conversation. I inquired where he was from and when he stated “Taipei, Taiwan”, I asked if he’d ever heard of a missionary lady named Lola Mae Daniels.
His quick response, in broken English was “Oh yes, she tell me about Jesus. Now, I Christian.”
In an instant, I was transported back to a small West Texas town and saw an eight-year-old boy pulling a little red wagon, picking up pop bottles. And I knew “that we labor not in vain”.
from our lives that helped shape the eternal destiny of another – even though we didn’t have
a clue at the time. However, sometimes The Father pulls back the curtain and allows a glimpse
of the past and the result is truly amazing.
My story begins in a rural ranching area of West Texas. A small Baptist Church with a passion
for missions and a Pastor that taught us our privilege of supporting the spread of the Gospel.
In 1955, one of our Kindergarten teachers, Lola Mae Daniels, felt the call of the Master to surrender her life to foreign missions. This was unique, in that she was 59 years old, never married, and considered too old by the appointing agency. She would not be deterred! She met with our Pastor and he committed to support her desire to minister the Gospel in a foreign land. After several letter writing campaigns and many phone calls, the appointing agency agreed to a one year appointment to a Baptist school in Taiwan. She went to Taipei in the fall of 1956. Her one-year appointment became her life work and she served there for twenty years.
On the last Sunday before she left, the local Church had a commissioning service and going away fellowship in her honor. I remember how the Pastor’s words sank into my eight-year-old heart. “God has honored our congregation by choosing one of our own to serve Him in Taiwan.
We will honor Him by supporting her ministry there”. There was a special “foreign missions” box
placed in the sanctuary and the annual Lottie Moon Christmas offering always called attention to Lola Mae and the needs in Taiwan. The amount given was not the question – giving itself was.
Now, for an eight-year-old in Ozona, Texas in 1956, generating income was a problem. And,
I felt that my 50 cents per week allowance would not go too far. I discussed with my Mom ways to raise money and arrived at a plan. There was a grocery store that paid 3 cents apiece for returnable pop bottles. On Saturdays, I would pull my Radio Flyer wagon around town, hitting vacant lots, streets, and alleys, picking up an assortment of Coke, Nehi, RC Cola, Dr. Pepper, and Delaware Punch bottles. I remember the joy I felt when the fruit of my labor (probably less than ten dollars) was dropped into the Lottie Moon offering box. It was offered without reserve or condition.
Now, Flash forward twenty-five years.
I was working for a major electronics firm in Temple, Texas. Due to a meeting that was delayed, I was running late for lunch. By the time I arrived in the cafeteria, almost all the tables were taken.
I looked around the crowded dining area and noticed a young oriental engineer, with head bowed, saying grace over his meal. As he finished praying, I asked if I might sit with him. He graciously accepted my request and I sat down. As our meal progressed, I mentioned that what had drawn me to his table was his prayer before eating. I asked if he was a Christian and his yes reply opened the door for more conversation. I inquired where he was from and when he stated “Taipei, Taiwan”, I asked if he’d ever heard of a missionary lady named Lola Mae Daniels.
His quick response, in broken English was “Oh yes, she tell me about Jesus. Now, I Christian.”
In an instant, I was transported back to a small West Texas town and saw an eight-year-old boy pulling a little red wagon, picking up pop bottles. And I knew “that we labor not in vain”.
A Summer Job by Zach Nichols
In the summer of 2001 I had been teaching guitar at South Plains College in Levelland, Texas for a year (a school year that is). Although I worked a full-time schedule, I was considered a part-time employee (I guess state funded schools are able to make their own rules in a way). Being part-time meant that I would not continue to have income from the college during the summer unless I could teach during the summer. I needed income; believe me. Enrollment for the summer guitar classes started one day and at the end of that day it looked like it wasn't going to happen. There were no students enrolled and I was required to have ten credit hours worth of students enrolled for my lessons in order to qualify me to teach. Even the administrative people involved who had seen these kinds of things year after year were pretty much saying, "Sorry (it didn't work out) Zach... You'll find something for the summer".
That night was our weekly bible study at the "bachelor pad" on Pat street. We walked to a nearby park to have the study. Rocky Green lead the study and Joni Dobbins (now my wife) was there with her good friend Amanda. At the end we were praying and I mentioned that I was in need of a small miracle. I don't remember feeling full of faith or anything special... I just needed God's provision. So, we prayed about it and the next day I went in to the school and I had nine credit hours of students. That in itself was amazing, but was not enough. By the end of the day one last student signed up for a 1 credit hour lesson. God met my need perfectly. "Cast your cares on HIm, for He cares for you".
That night was our weekly bible study at the "bachelor pad" on Pat street. We walked to a nearby park to have the study. Rocky Green lead the study and Joni Dobbins (now my wife) was there with her good friend Amanda. At the end we were praying and I mentioned that I was in need of a small miracle. I don't remember feeling full of faith or anything special... I just needed God's provision. So, we prayed about it and the next day I went in to the school and I had nine credit hours of students. That in itself was amazing, but was not enough. By the end of the day one last student signed up for a 1 credit hour lesson. God met my need perfectly. "Cast your cares on HIm, for He cares for you".
Working as a Waitress by Joni Nichols
you ... don't make big money. It took me about 3 weeks to a month before I woke up and realized I was making below poverty level and was going to absolutely sink.
I was humiliated by the reality that I had nonchalantly kept working a job that wasn't paying my rent without even realizing it. I was humiliated that I was going to have to quit after 3 weeks. I was humiliated by the idea that I didn't know the difference between enough money and not enough money, that I was so foolish-prone. AND I did not want to job search AGAIN!
I had been thinking that I might not be making enought money at home, but then had to go into work. It was raining at 6:00--the tell-all sign that it's going to be a slow night. That's when people decide to go eat out or not, and the rain decides for them that they're staying home. And I was in the next to last cut section. Nice. I did some more specific math again on a napkin in the back wait station as I had nothing to do. I got specific: I'd have to make 50 dollars a day AT LEAST to make my rent. That means 25 for lunch shift and 25 for dinner shift. I thought, "NO WONDER!" I'm making 7-14 dollars tips a shift. (I know!) I was humiliated and angry at myself. I pulled myself up with all my strength and said, "Then, God, if you don't start providing this, I'm going to have to get another job." Then I thought. "No, forget that, I WILL TOMORROW! I HAVE TO!" So I prayed, "God, provide it so I won't have to-" and I stopped myself, saying, 'God doesn't hear silly prayers about waitress tips like this!" And the spirit stopped me and said within my own thoughts, "You are talking to GOD here, don't you believe he hears you? All that talk about God hearing you when you pray, don't you think it's true? Then ACT like it, and talk and KNOW he IS listening." And so I thought, "ok, God, then you've got tonight to provide that 25 dollars. (on a slow night!) " and then i thought, "no, I made only 13 dollars at lunch, so that means I need to make 37 dollars this shift. (on a slow night)" or I'd be job searching the next day.
It kept raining, and before I knew it, I got a bunch of tables that night. I don't remember the circumstances.
At the end of the shift. I didn't take out the napkin to remind me of the number 37, but I remembered it as I counted my dollars in my front pocket.
37 to the dollar. So I stayed at that place and understood that I am provided for because HE is my provider.
From that day on through the rest of that month for the next 3-4 bills, if I came home and opened a bill for 81 dollars, I would have exactly 81 dollars cash in my wallet from work. For that I had only acknowledged, you are my provider. I never asked him to pay my bills. His goodness is abundantly more than abundant. How quickly I forget and depend again on my own resources!!!!
"Get Back in the Wagon" by Clark Elmore
As a 24 year old male, I knew everything...so I thought. It was because of my vast knowledge of the world that I had a history of ended romantic relationships, a son out of wedlock and an immense sense of confusion on what life might possibly bring the next day. I have been a christian since I was 11 years old and raised in and around churches since birth--my Pop is a minister. All of this being said for background purposes, I went over to my Pop's house and asked if we could talk. We went out to the back porch, pulled up some chairs and stared at the night sky in silence. He knew something was bothering me and finally asked "What's going on, Son?" and to his amazement, I began screeching quietly with a choked up voice that I was tired of living my life myself. He listened patiently and lovingly as only a parent can do when their child is blabbering uncontrollably. When I was finished, he took my hand and told me to "get back in the wagon." I looked at him quizically and he went on to explain. I had been living my life by trying to pull Christ around in my little red wagon, everywhere that I wanted to go just in case I might need him later. I needed to shut up and get in the wagon and let him do the pulling and the navigating that had eluded me for so long. We prayed together and I was overcome with the most awesome childlike feeling of not having any worries. A week after this inspirational meeting, I met my best friend, Melissa, whom I would marry a year later. God will let you live "your life", but don't expect too much out of it. Turn it all over to him and the beauty of life reaches out and embraces you fully and completely.
A Full Tank of Gas by Missy Gore
A few weeks before departing (when money is at its tightest), I was on my home from Lubbock and I realized I had to gas before leaving the big city. As I was strapped for money my initial thought was, "i'll just put in a little now and my parents will get me a full tank later." But the spirit moved within me. How was I supposed to have faith in the Lord to provide all my needs for making a big move if I could not even trust him to provide the money for a tank of gas. I had been depending on my parents for the last several weeks, and been totally stressed out and realized (while waiting for a red light to turn green) that the Lord is my provider and only He knows what I really need and He is the only one who can get it for me without me having to tear my hair out. As I am sitting at this light I still have no idea where the money for this tank of gas is going to come from, but I had faith that the lord would provide somehow. As I was praying, "Lord I know you are provider, and I need money for gas..." BAM!
The guy in front of me had thrown his truck into reverse and backed right into my car!!! "GREAT!! Just what I need!" The light turned green and we both turned and pulled into the gas station. The guy felt horrible. "The least I can do is pay for your gas!" And he did. And the damage was minor. I knew it was God smiling saying,"yes, I am your provider!"
A God Story by Bryan Ryder
Man, God sure does work in mysterious ways! Back in 1998, I was living a life of complete and utter sin, when the Lord stepped in and used an atheist to get my attention.
I had returned to my hometown for Christmas break during my last year of college. Since I was planning on moving out west after graduation, I wanted to get together with a childhood friend one last time. I called up my good buddy from high school and made plans to go to the lake, hang out, and have a few beers.
We got to talking, and he asked me if I believed in aliens. I didn’t believe in much at that time, but I sure as heck didn’t believe in aliens. So I asked him, “Do you believe that God made the aliens too?” He said to me, “God? You believe in God??” This comment led to a huge discussion about his newfound belief (or disbelief) in God. Well, I tried to defend this God (whom I really didn’t know) to the best of my ability. Needless to say, without the Spirit, I was not doing too well defending the Lord. Not only was I ill equipped, but my friend had some good arguments. The more I tried to make my point, the more hopeless I became. By the end of the night, I was really scared. Now the God who I thought was going to let me into Heaven (well hey, I hadn’t killed anyone), now might not even be real. I didn’t know what to do.
I went home and tried to fall asleep, but all I could do was cry. This very disturbing thought was in my head and I couldn’t seem to get it out. Thinking of me ceasing to exist after my death was too much to bear. I was completely hopeless.
Since I couldn’t sleep, I decided to hunt down that old Bible that was somewhere in my closet. I found it and decided to start reading the book of Matthew. I kept reading until I got half way through Luke. After reading it, something strange happened--I had hope--not a lot, but some. This Jesus thing seemed believable. Yet, the most amazing thing that happened that night, was an unbelievably strong desire to find out if God was real. So I sought God, and He showed Himself to be true. Now 8 years later, I’m a Jesus freak. Man, God does work in mysterious ways!
I had returned to my hometown for Christmas break during my last year of college. Since I was planning on moving out west after graduation, I wanted to get together with a childhood friend one last time. I called up my good buddy from high school and made plans to go to the lake, hang out, and have a few beers.
We got to talking, and he asked me if I believed in aliens. I didn’t believe in much at that time, but I sure as heck didn’t believe in aliens. So I asked him, “Do you believe that God made the aliens too?” He said to me, “God? You believe in God??” This comment led to a huge discussion about his newfound belief (or disbelief) in God. Well, I tried to defend this God (whom I really didn’t know) to the best of my ability. Needless to say, without the Spirit, I was not doing too well defending the Lord. Not only was I ill equipped, but my friend had some good arguments. The more I tried to make my point, the more hopeless I became. By the end of the night, I was really scared. Now the God who I thought was going to let me into Heaven (well hey, I hadn’t killed anyone), now might not even be real. I didn’t know what to do.
I went home and tried to fall asleep, but all I could do was cry. This very disturbing thought was in my head and I couldn’t seem to get it out. Thinking of me ceasing to exist after my death was too much to bear. I was completely hopeless.
Since I couldn’t sleep, I decided to hunt down that old Bible that was somewhere in my closet. I found it and decided to start reading the book of Matthew. I kept reading until I got half way through Luke. After reading it, something strange happened--I had hope--not a lot, but some. This Jesus thing seemed believable. Yet, the most amazing thing that happened that night, was an unbelievably strong desire to find out if God was real. So I sought God, and He showed Himself to be true. Now 8 years later, I’m a Jesus freak. Man, God does work in mysterious ways!
Friday, May 28, 2010
The Story that Started This Blog by Joni Nichols
The seed of inspiration for sharing these stories:
We were driving down the road, why we were together that day or where we were going, who knows? But Anna (now Adkins) casually mentioned in conversation as we landed on the subject of her upcoming $200 knee surgery that since her parents weren't believers, she told them not to loan her the money, that God would provide for her. She wanted them to see that he could provide, and she knew that he could and would. He provided. I'd heard a thousand million stories of God's greatness, his amazing provisions, Jericho, the Red Sea, sacks of groceries on the front steps, etc. But all of these were from preachers or missionaries. It seemed to me in my immaturity that they had earned a right to his provisions. Anna was a person like me. It changed my world. I just silently nodded. It wasn't long before I began to experience these kinds of experiences of God's greatness in my everyday life.He takes care of all obstacles by Chuck Elmore
One evening while I was visiting my sister, the Lord moved me to talk and pray with her. She had been a Christian from a young age, but she was struggling with many doubts about her worth in God's eyes. As we talked, I was begging the Lord to give me a word to share with her, but nothing came. I kept praying, and finally I felt Him tell me that I was to physically embrace her as if He was doing it. I told her that Jesus wanted to hug her, and when I put my arms around her, she began sobbing. She told me that was exactly what she needed. We decided to move to the back porch so we wouldn't wake her children. The Lord led me to share many facets of the good news with her, but the neighbor's dog began to bark at us from behind the fence. We tried to ignore it, but the dog persisted. I realized that this was a distraction from the enemy to keep my sister from hearing the truth, so I stopped what I was doing, and as odd as it felt, I said to the dog, "In the name of Jesus, stop barking and don't bark anymore for the rest of the night." The dog stopped and made no more noise the whole time we talked. I talked to my sister on the phone several weeks after that night, and she said the dog doesn't bark at her anymore.
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