Hall of Truth: Christian Stories

Faith Becomes Sight
Have faith that whatever you ask for in prayer is already granted you, and you will find that it will be – Mark 11:24

When my little son was about ten years of age, his grandmother promised him a stamp album for Christmas. Christmas came, but no stamp album, and no word from grandmother. The matter, however, was not mentioned; but when his playmates came to see his Christmas presents, I was astonished, after he had named over this and that as gifts received, to hear him add,

“And a stamp album from grandmother.”

I had heard it several times, when I called him to me, and said, “But, Georgie, you did not get an album from your grandmother. Why do you say so?”

There was a wondering look on his face, as if he thought it strange that I should ask such a question, and he replied, “Well, mamma, grandma said, so it is the same as.” I could not say a word to check his faith.

A month went by, and nothing was heard from the album. Finally, one day, I said, to test his faith, and really wondering in my heart why the album had not been sent,

“Well, Georgie, I think grandma has forgotten her promise.”

“Oh, no, mamma,” he quickly and firmly said, “she hasn’t.”

I watched the dear, trusting face, which, for a while, looked very sober, as if debating the possibilities I had suggested. Finally a bright light passed over it, and he said,

“Mamma, do you think it would do any good if I should write to her thanking her for the album?”

“I do not know,” I said, “but you might try it.”

A rich spiritual truth began to dawn upon me. In a few minutes a letter was prepared and committed to the mail, and he went off whistling his confidence in his grandma. In just a short time a letter came, saying:

“My dear Georgie: I have not forgotten my promise to you, of an album. I tried to get such a book as you desired, but could not get the sort you wanted; so I sent on to New York. It did not get here till after Christmas, and it was still not right, so I sent for another, and as it has not come as yet, I send you three dollars to get one in Chicago. Your loving grandma.”

“As he read the letter, his face was the face of a victor. ”Now, mamma, didn’t I tell you?“ came from the depths of a heart that never doubted, that, ”against hope, believed in hope" that the stamp album would come. While he was trusting, grandma was working, and in due season faith became sight.

It is so human to want sight when we step out on the promises of God, but our Savior said to Thomas, and to the long roll of doubters who have ever since followed him: “Blessed are they who have not seen, and yet have believed.” —Mrs. Rounds

Desperately, helplessly, longingly, I cried: Quietly, patiently, lovingly God replied. I pled and I wept for a clue to my fate, And the Master so gently said, “Child, you must wait”. “Wait? You say, wait! ” my indignant reply. “Lord, I need answers, I need to know why! Is your hand shortened? Or have you not heard? By Faith, I have asked, and am claiming your Word. My future and all to which I can relate hangs in the balance, and YOU tell me to WAIT? I’m needing a ‘yes’, a go-ahead sign, or even a ‘no’ to which I can resign. And Lord, You promised that if we believe we need but to ask, and we shall receive. And Lord, I’ve been asking, and this is my cry: I’m weary of asking! I need a reply! Then quietly, softly, I learned of my fate As my Master replied once again, “You must wait.” So, I slumped in my chair, defeated and taut and grumbled to God, “So, I’m waiting…. for what?” He seemed, then, to kneel, and His eyes wept with mine, And he tenderly said, “I could give you a sign. I could shake the heavens, and darken the sun. I could raise the dead, and cause mountains to run. All you seek, I could give, and pleased you would be. You would have what you want But, you wouldn’t know Me. You’d not know the depth of My love for each saint; You’d not know the power that I give to the faint; You’d not learn to see through the clouds of despair; You’d not learn to trust just by knowing I’m there; You’d not know the joy of resting in Me When darkness and silence were all you could see. You’d never experience that fullness of love As the peace of My Spirit descends like a dove; You’d know that I give and I save…. (for a start), But you’d not know the depth of the beat of My heart. The glow of My comfort late into the night, The faith that I give when you walk without sight, The depth that’s beyond getting just what you asked Of an infinite God, who makes what you have LAST. You’d never know, should your pain quickly flee, What it means that “My grace is sufficient for Thee.” Yes, your dreams for your loved one overnight would come true, But, Oh, the Loss! If I lost what I’m doing in you! So, be silent, My Child, and in time you will see That the greatest of gifts is to get to know Me. And though oft’ may My answers seem terribly late, My most precious answer of all is still, “WAIT.

A young man, a student in one of our universities, was one day taking a walk with a professor, who was commonly called the students’ friend, from his kindness to those who waited on his instructions. As they went along, they saw lying in the path a pair of old shoes, which they supposed to belong to a poor man who was employed in a field close by, and who had nearly finished his day’s work. The student turned to the professor, saying: “Let us play the man a trick: we will hide his shoes, and conceal ourselves behind those bushes, and wait to see his perplexity when he cannot find them.” “My young friend,” answered the professor, “we should never amuse ourselves at the expense of the poor. But you are rich, and may give yourself a much greater pleasure by means of the poor man. Put a coin into each shoe, and then we will hide ourselves and watch how the discovery affects him.” The student did so, and they both placed themselves behind the bushes close by. The poor man soon finished his work, and came across the field to the path where he had left his coat and shoes. While putting on his coat he slipped his foot into one of his shoes; but feeling something hard, he stooped down to feel what it was, and found the coin. Astonishment and wonder were seen upon his countenance. He gazed upon the coin, turned it round, and looked at it again and again. He then looked around him on all sides, but no person was to be seen. He now put the money into his pocket, and proceeded to put on the other shoe; but his surprise was doubled on finding the other coin. His feelings overcame him; he fell upon his knees, looked up to heaven and uttered aloud a fervent thanksgiving, in which he spoke of his wife, sick and helpless, and his children without bread, whom the timely bounty, from some unknown hand, would save from perishing. The student stood there deeply affected, and his eyes filled with tears. “Now,” said the professor, “are you not much better pleased than if you had played your intended trick?” The youth replied, “You have taught me a lesson which I will never forget. I feel now the truth of those words, which I never understood before:‘It is more blessed to give than to receive.’” Student and His Professor : Its More Blessed To Give Than To Receive - Author Unknown

The Great Reservoir On February 21, 1858, Charles Spurgeon gave a sermon that he entitled “The Great Reservoir” in which he preached through Proverbs 4:23 – “Keep your heart with all vigilance, for from it flow the springs of life.” The metaphor he uses to describe the heart throughout his talk is that of a water reservoir. When it is impure, empty, or divided it does not provide proper nourishment for life. One piece of the sermon in particular was especially meaningful to me – when Spurgeon gives the formula for keeping the heart pure. I have shared it below. Ah! Christian keep thy heart pure. Thou sayest, “How can I do this?” Well, there was of old a stream of Marah, to which the thirsty pilgrims in the desert came to drink; and when they came to taste of it, it was so brackish that though their tongues were like torches, and the roofs of their mouths were parched with heat, yet they could not drink of that bitter water. Do you remember the remedy which Moses prescribed? It is the remedy which we prescribe to you this morning. He took a certain tree, and he cast it into the waters, and they became sweet and clear. Your heart is by nature like Marah’s water, bitter and impure. There is a certain tree, you know its name, that tree on which the Saviour hung, the cross. Take that tree, put it into your heart, and though it were even more impure than it is, that sweet cross, applied by the Holy Spirit, would soon transform it into its own nature, and make it pure. Christ Jesus in the heart is the sweet purification. He is made unto us sanctification. Elijah cast salt into the waters; but we must cast the blood of Jesus there. Once let us know and love Jesus, once let his cross become the object of our adoration and the theme of our delight, the heart will beam its cleansing, and the life will become pure also. Oh! that we all did learn the sacred lesson of fixing the cross in the heart! Christian man! love thy Saviour more; cry to the Holy Spirit that thou mayest have more affection for Jesus; and then, how ever gainful may be thy sin, thou wilt say with the poet, “Now for the love I bear his name, What was my gain I count my loss; My former pride I call my shame, And nail my glory to his cross.” The cross in the heart is the purifier of the soul; it purges and it cleanses the chambers of the mind. Christian! keep thy heart pure, “for out of it are the issues of life.” --From " http://exithymn.wordp ress.com/..." Desire Muhireshared this story 'The Great Reservoir' on Christian stories.

A Boy’s Mistake—A Sad Reconciliation. There was an Englishman who had an only son; and only sons are often petted, and humored, and ruined. This boy became very headstrong, and very often he and his father had trouble. One day they had a quarrel and the father was very angry, and so was the son; and the father said he wished the boy would leave home and never come back. The boy said he would go, and would not come into his father’s house again till he sent for him. The father said he would never send for him. Well, away went the boy. But when a father gives up a boy, a mother does not. You mothers will understand that, but the fathers may not. You know there is no love on earth so strong as a mother’s love. A great many things may separate a man and his wife; a great many things may separate a father from his son; but there is nothing in the wide world that can ever separate a true mother from her child. To be sure, there are some mothers that have drank so much liquor that they have drunk up all their affection. But I am talking about a true mother; and she would never cast off her boy. Well, the mother began to write and plead with the boy to write to his father first, and he would forgive him; but the boy said, “I will never go home till father asks me.” Then she pled with the father, but the father said, “No, I will never ask him.” At last the mother came down to her sick-bed, broken-hearted, and when she was given up by the physicians to die, the husband, anxious to gratify her last wish, wanted to know if there was nothing he could do for her before she died. The mother gave him a look; he well knew what it meant. Then she said, “Yes, there is one thing you can do. You can send for my boy. That is the only wish on earth you can gratify. If you do not pity him and love him when I am dead and gone, who will?” “Well,” said the father, “I will send word to him that you want to see him.” “No,” she says, “you know he will not come for me. If ever I see him you must send for him.” At last the father went to his office and wrote a dispatch in his own name, asking the boy to come home. As soon as he got the invitation from his father he started off to see his dying mother. When he opened the door to go in he found his mother dying, and his father by the bedside. The father heard the door open, and saw the boy, but instead of going to meet him, he went to another part of the room, and refused to speak to him. His mother seized his hand—how she had longed to press it! She kissed him, and then said, “Now, my son, just speak to your father. You speak first, and it will all be over.” But the boy said, “No, mother, I will not speak to him until he speaks to me.” She took her husband’s hand in one hand and the boy’s in the other, and spent her dying moments in trying to bring about a reconciliation. Then just as she was expiring—she could not speak—so she put the hand of the wayward boy into the hand of the father, and passed away! The boy looked at the mother, and the father at the wife, and at last the father’s heart broke, and he opened his arms, and took that boy to his bosom, and by that body they were reconciled. Sinner, that is only a faint type, a poor illustration, because God is not angry with you. I bring you to-night to the dead body of Christ. I ask you to look at the wounds in his hands and feet, and the wound in his side. And I ask you, “Will you not be reconciled?”

A Little Boy’s Experience. One day as a young lady was walking up the street, she saw a little boy running out of a shoemaker’s shop, and behind him was the old shoemaker chasing him with a wooden last in his hand. He had not run far until the last was thrown at him, and he was struck in the back. The boy stopped and began to cry. The Spirit of the Lord touched that young lady’s heart, and she went to where he was. She stepped up to him, and asked him if he was hurt. He told her it was none of her business. She went to work then to win that boy’s confidence. She asked him if he went to school. He said, “No.” “Well, why don’t you go to school?” “Don’t want to.” She asked him if he would not like to go to Sunday school. “If you will come,” she said, “I will tell you beautiful stories and read nice books.” She coaxed and pleaded with him, and at last said that if he would consent to go, she would meet him on the corner of a street which they should agree upon. He at last consented, and the next Sunday, true to his promise, he waited for her at the place designated. She took him by the hand and led him into the Sabbath-school “Can you give me a place to teach this little boy?” she asked of the superintendent. He looked at the boy, but they didn’t have any such looking little ones in the school. A place was found, however, and she sat down in the corner and tried to win that soul for Christ. Many would look upon that with contempt, but she had got something to do for the Master. The little boy had never heard anybody sing so sweetly before. When he went home he was asked where he had been. “Been among the angels,” he told his mother. He said he had been to the Protestant Sabbath-school, but his father and mother told him he must not go there any more or he would get a flogging. The next Sunday he went, and when he came home he got the promised flogging. He went the second time and got a flogging, and also a third time with the same result. At last he said to his father, “I wish you would flog me before I go, and then I won’t have to think of it when I am there.” The father said, “If you go to that Sabbath-school again I will kill you.” It was the father’s custom to send his son out on the street to sell articles to the passers-by, and he told the boy that he might have the profits of what he sold on Saturday. The little fellow hastened to the young lady’s house and said to her, “Father said that he would give me every Saturday to myself, and if you will just teach me, then I will come to your house every Saturday afternoon.” I wonder how many young ladies there are that would give up their Saturday afternoons just to lead one boy into the kingdom of God. Every Saturday afternoon that little boy was there at her house, and she tried to tell him the way to Christ. She labored with him, and at last the light of God’s spirit broke upon his heart. One day while he was selling his wares at the railroad station, a train of cars approached unnoticed and passed over both his legs. A physician was summoned, and the first thing after he arrived, the little sufferer looked up into his face and said, “Doctor, will I live to get home?” “No,” said the doctor, “you are dying.” “Will you tell my mother and father that I died a Christian?” They bore home the boy’s corpse and with it the last message that he died a Christian. Oh, what a noble work was that young lady’s in saving that little wanderer! How precious the remembrance to her! When she goes to heaven she will not be a stranger there. He will take her by the hand and lead her to the throne of Christ. She did the work cheerfully. Oh, may God teach us what our work is that we may do it for His glory.

Barbara was driving her six-year-old son,
Benjamin, to his piano lesson. They were late,
and Barbara was beginning to think she should
have cancelled it. There was always so much to
do, and Barbara, a night-duty nurse at the local
hospital, hadrecently worked extrashifts. She was
tired. The sleet storm and icy roads added to
hertension. Maybe she should turn the car
around.
“Mom!” Ben cried. “Look!” Just ahead, a car had
lost control ona patch of ice. As Barbara tapped
the brakes, the other car spun wildly rolled over,
then crashed sideways into a telephone pole.
Barbara pulled over, skidded to a stop and threw
open her door. Thank goodness she was a nurse
– she might be able to help these unfortunate
passengers. Then she paused. What about Ben?
She couldn’t takehim with her. Little boys
shouldn’t see scenes like the one she
anticipated. But was it safe to leave him alone?
What if their car were hit from behind?
For a brief moment Barbara considered going on
her way. Someone else was sure to come along.
No! “Ben, honey, promise me you’ll stay in the
car!” “I will, Mommy,” he saidas she ran, slipping
and sliding toward the crash site. It was worse
than she’d feared.
Two girls of high school age are in the car. One,
the blond on the passenger side, was dead, killed
on impact. The driver, however was still
breathing. She was unconscious and pinned in
the wreckage. Barbara quickly applied pressure
to the wound in the teenager’s head whileher
practiced eye catalogued the other injuries. A
broken leg, maybe two, along with probable
internal bleeding. But if help came soon, thegirl
would live.
A trucker had pulled up and was calling forhelp
on his cellular phone. Soon Barbara heard the
ambulance sirens. A few moments later she
surrendered her lonely post to rescue workers.
“Good job,” one said as he examined the driver’s
wounds. “You probably saved her life, ma’am.”
Perhaps. But as Barbara walked back to her car
a feeling of sadness overwhelmedher, especially
for the family of the girl whohad died. Their lives
would never be the same. Oh, God, why do such
things have to happen?
Slowly Barbara opened her car door. What should
she tell Benjamin? He was staring at the crash
site, his blue eyes huge. “Mom,” he whispered,
“did you see it?” “See what, Honey?” she asked.
“The angel, Mom! He came down from the sky
while you were running to the car. And he
opened the door, and he took thatgirl out.”
Barbara’s eyes filled with tears. “Which door,
Ben?” “The passenger side. He took the girl’s
hand, and they floated up toHeaven together”
“What about the driver?” Ben shrugged. “I didn’t
see anyone else.”
Later, Barbara was able to meet the families of
the victims. They expressed their gratitude for
the help she had provided. Barbara was able to
give them something more – Ben’s vision.
There was no way he could have known what
happened to either of the passengers. Nor
couldthe passenger door have been opened;
Barbara had seen its tangle of immovable steel
herself. Yet Ben’saccount brought consolation to
a grieving family. Their daughter was safe in
Heaven. And they would see her again.

THE BLOOD OF THE HEROES OF FAITH WHO CHANGED THE WORLD, THE PASSION OF HIS ELECT. All Who Sees This Should Just Stop By And Read! David Living Stone came to Africa when the continent was still deadly to preach the Gospel of Jesus. He lost his children and this poor man could only say, "thank God they have gone home. We will meet." His wife died also because of His mission to Africa, he still don't give up. He was coming to Africa one day when a lion attacked him, nearly killed him. He managed to escape with one hand lost. Yet this man died on his kneel praying for Africa. When He was discovered dead, they saw what he wrote with his last breath, LORD SAVE AFRICA. Imagine John Knox praying for years, "LORD GIVE ME SCOTLAND OR I DIE" READ THIS! A young christian brother, his wife and children went on a missionary journey to a town where darkness reigns supreme! As they were preaching, the people became furious. They got hold of this wonderful family and decided to teach them a lesson. They dug a hole, big one indeed and threw them inside. They began to bury them alive. As they were doing so, they noticed just one thing. The entire family were rejoicing, singing praises to God. This men of darkness buried this young family alive. After this, Holy Spirit began to touch the heart of this weakened men. They can't help thinking about what they have done. They were asking questions like, why are they rejoicing? they are strange. Why do they still believe in what they believed even when it is clear they will die? Why are they all singing? God sent another man to that town. When this person got there, they all accepted Jesus, not because he brought another message but because the blood of some heroes had been shed. Pls don't stop reading this now! When I look at the gone Heroes of Faith. Those whose foot print are still marked on the narrow way! If I compare it with this day christian, Oh what are few in number are still alive. Oh God, where is the passion of Apostle Paul, who did you give the brave heart Of David Living Stone. Where is the passion of the dead heroes of faith who on their rugged body bear the agonizing mark of the cross. Time is changing, the world is dying to the truth daily. I don't need prosperity, promotion, provision, popularity, or pleasure, but passion, power, fire of God. Create in me Oh God, the passion for the body of Christ, the power of the men of Old. I don't want to only get to heaven, I want to get to heaven gloriously. There is general dryness in the world, but the blood of the heroes of faith still ring bells of warning that we must be awake as knight of the Heavenly King. We now have Christians without passion and passion without real power. Each time I see a missionary, I become challenged because they are likely going to be most blessed in heaven. why? They have forsaken all only to retire into unknown station for the sake of Christ, and sometimes suffers the ugly fate of unmarked grave. Surprises we be in heaven when the reward of the passionate will greatly differs from the passive Christian that narrowly escaped hell. Can you say you are available to be the next Hero of Faith. Or did you want to meet the saviour with empty hand not even with a soul to present. Why can't you pray for the unsaved? Why did you speak against the other denominations? Yes, not all denomination are really saved but why not passionately pray for them? The lost need our prayer. I'm avialable OH LORD. God will reward you if you feel concern about the dying majority going to hell because there is enough hopeless brothers and sisters in hell now. God bless you!

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