Just a few years ago, an Episcopal priest from Columbus, OH, walked into his office, his church office, on a Monday morning and wrote a hasty letter of resignation. Then he went back to his house, sat down at the kitchen table, and wrote a letter to his wife and three children, all under the age of 10, that he was abandoning them. He went to a logging camp in New England. He took a job in Vermont as a logger.
One Saturday afternoon in January it was about 10 degrees below zero, heavy snow, and the priest was sitting in his portable aluminum trailer that he had rented. The only source of heat was a tiny portable aluminum heater. The heater suddenly quit and died. Within minutes, the temperature in the trailer plunged down to zero.
Shivering and in a fit of rage, the priest picked up the heater, flung it through the window, broke the window, and shouted, "Christ, I hate you. Damn you, God. Get out of my life. I'm finished with this Christian crap. It's all over."
He sank to his knees, defeated and weeping. And in the bright darkness of faith, he heard a voice from within say, "It's okay, Kevin. I understand. I'm here. I am with you and I am for you."
Then he heard Jesus weeping within him. Christ felt what he was feeling. It was an overwhelming feeling of intimacy. That same afternoon Kevin Martin packed his bag, returned to Columbus, Ohio to be reconciled to his family and his church. Since that time he has gone on to pastor the most alive, dynamic, and Spirit-filled Episcopal church in America, St. Luke's in Seattle, Washington. Jesus is fine tuned to our anger and disappointment. He really knows what hurts the human heart.
Showing posts with label Accepting Jesus. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Accepting Jesus. Show all posts
Don't Reject The Cure
A plague was ravaging a tiny village in the outermost bush of a remote African province. A lone missionary, a doctor who had given his life to fighting this particular disease, had gone in with the only cure available. It was made from plants indigenous to the region and could quite easily be reproduced by the villagers themselves just by taking some of the leaves and mixing it with some herbs & spices. When he went in, he found that there wasn’t a single person in the village who was free of the disease. They all had it and were dying at an alarming rate.
Characteristic of the disease was a rash on the back of the neck. All he had to do was treat the rash with the medication and the people could be healed… but he couldn’t get anybody to let him give them the medication. Despite the fact that people were dying… nobody realized that they were sick. They all had the same rash. There wasn’t anything unusual about it. Since everybody had the same markings on their necks, they just assumed it was normal and nobody realized any different. Nobody realized it was killing them.
Characteristic of the disease was a rash on the back of the neck. All he had to do was treat the rash with the medication and the people could be healed… but he couldn’t get anybody to let him give them the medication. Despite the fact that people were dying… nobody realized that they were sick. They all had the same rash. There wasn’t anything unusual about it. Since everybody had the same markings on their necks, they just assumed it was normal and nobody realized any different. Nobody realized it was killing them.
Portrait of the Son
Years ago, there was a very wealthy man who, with his devoted young son, shared a passion for art collecting. Together they traveled around the world, adding only the finest art treasures to their collection. Priceless works by Picasso, Van Gogh, Monet and many others hung the walls of the family estate.
As winter approached, war engulfed the nation, and the young man left to serve his country. After only a few short weeks, his father received a telegram. His beloved son was missing in action. The father anxiously awaited more news, fearing he would never see his son again. Within days, his fears were confirmed. The young man had died while rushing a fellow soldier to a medic.
Distraught and lonely, the old man faced the upcoming Christmas holidays with anguish and sadness.
On Christmas morning, a knock on the door awakened the depressed old man. As he opened the door, he was greeted by a soldier with a large package in his hand. He introduced himself to the man by saying, “I was a friend of your son. I was the one he was rescuing when he died. May I come in for a few moments? I have something to show you.”
As the two began to talk, the solider told of how his son talked about his love for his father and his father’s love of art.
“I’m an artist,” said the soldier, “and I want to give you this.” As the old man unwrapped the package, the paper gave way to reveal a portrait of the man’s son. Though the world would never consider it the work of a genius, the painting featured the young man’s face in striking detail.
Overcome with emotion, the man thanked the soldier, promising to hang the picture above the fireplace.
During the days and weeks that followed, the man realized that even though his son was no longer with him, the boy’s life would live on because of those he had touched. He would soon learn that his son had rescued dozens of wounded soldiers before a bullet stilled his caring heart. As he continued to hear stories of his sons compassion and bravery the painting of his son soon became his most prized possession.
The following spring, the old man became ill and passed away. The art world was in anticipation. With the collector’s passing and his only son dead, those paintings would be sold at an auction. According to the will of the old man, all of the art works would be auctioned on Christmas day, the day he had received his greatest gift. The day soon arrived and art collectors from around the world gathered to bid on some of the world’s most spectacular paintings.
The auction began with a painting that was not on any museum’s list. It was the painting of the man’s son.
The auctioneer asked for an opening bid. The room was silent. “Who will open the bidding with $1000?” he asked.
Minutes passed. No one spoke. From the back of the room came, “Who cares about that painting? It’s just a picture of his son. Let’s forget it and go on to the good stuff.” More voices echoed in agreement.
“No, we have to sell this one first,” replied the auctioneer. “Now, who will take the son?” How about for 100?
Still the room was quiet and the people began to get angry?
50 dollars will anyone pay fifty dollars for the son?
Silence.
Finally, a friend of the old man spoke. “Will you take ten dollars for the painting? That’s all I have. I knew the boy, so I’d like to have it.”
“I have ten dollars. Will anyone go higher?” called the auctioneer. After more silence, the auctioneer said, “Going once, going twice. Sold.” The gavel fell. Cheers filled the room and someone exclaimed, “Now we can get on with it and we can bid on the real treasures!”
The auctioneer looked at the audience and announced the auction was over. Stunned disbelief quieted the room. Someone spoke up and asked, “What do you mean it’s over? We didn’t come here for a picture of some old guy’s son What about all of these paintings? There are millions of dollars of art here! I demand that you explain what’s going on here!.”
The auctioneer replied, “It’s very simple. According to the will of the father, whoever takes the son..gets it all.”
As winter approached, war engulfed the nation, and the young man left to serve his country. After only a few short weeks, his father received a telegram. His beloved son was missing in action. The father anxiously awaited more news, fearing he would never see his son again. Within days, his fears were confirmed. The young man had died while rushing a fellow soldier to a medic.
Distraught and lonely, the old man faced the upcoming Christmas holidays with anguish and sadness.
On Christmas morning, a knock on the door awakened the depressed old man. As he opened the door, he was greeted by a soldier with a large package in his hand. He introduced himself to the man by saying, “I was a friend of your son. I was the one he was rescuing when he died. May I come in for a few moments? I have something to show you.”
As the two began to talk, the solider told of how his son talked about his love for his father and his father’s love of art.
“I’m an artist,” said the soldier, “and I want to give you this.” As the old man unwrapped the package, the paper gave way to reveal a portrait of the man’s son. Though the world would never consider it the work of a genius, the painting featured the young man’s face in striking detail.
Overcome with emotion, the man thanked the soldier, promising to hang the picture above the fireplace.
During the days and weeks that followed, the man realized that even though his son was no longer with him, the boy’s life would live on because of those he had touched. He would soon learn that his son had rescued dozens of wounded soldiers before a bullet stilled his caring heart. As he continued to hear stories of his sons compassion and bravery the painting of his son soon became his most prized possession.
The following spring, the old man became ill and passed away. The art world was in anticipation. With the collector’s passing and his only son dead, those paintings would be sold at an auction. According to the will of the old man, all of the art works would be auctioned on Christmas day, the day he had received his greatest gift. The day soon arrived and art collectors from around the world gathered to bid on some of the world’s most spectacular paintings.
The auction began with a painting that was not on any museum’s list. It was the painting of the man’s son.
The auctioneer asked for an opening bid. The room was silent. “Who will open the bidding with $1000?” he asked.
Minutes passed. No one spoke. From the back of the room came, “Who cares about that painting? It’s just a picture of his son. Let’s forget it and go on to the good stuff.” More voices echoed in agreement.
“No, we have to sell this one first,” replied the auctioneer. “Now, who will take the son?” How about for 100?
Still the room was quiet and the people began to get angry?
50 dollars will anyone pay fifty dollars for the son?
Silence.
Finally, a friend of the old man spoke. “Will you take ten dollars for the painting? That’s all I have. I knew the boy, so I’d like to have it.”
“I have ten dollars. Will anyone go higher?” called the auctioneer. After more silence, the auctioneer said, “Going once, going twice. Sold.” The gavel fell. Cheers filled the room and someone exclaimed, “Now we can get on with it and we can bid on the real treasures!”
The auctioneer looked at the audience and announced the auction was over. Stunned disbelief quieted the room. Someone spoke up and asked, “What do you mean it’s over? We didn’t come here for a picture of some old guy’s son What about all of these paintings? There are millions of dollars of art here! I demand that you explain what’s going on here!.”
The auctioneer replied, “It’s very simple. According to the will of the father, whoever takes the son..gets it all.”
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