tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27722773221784513382024-02-21T08:51:07.009-06:00Living Bible LessonsJohn D. Bainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17661031023211164094noreply@blogger.comBlogger9125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2772277322178451338.post-9781844570309414962018-11-21T22:17:00.001-06:002018-11-21T22:39:37.967-06:00Chess with Daniel<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: large;">Teaching my Granddaughters, Addison and Avery, to play chess over the Thanksgiving holiday this year took me back to everyone that I have ever played with over the many years. It's funny, I'm not an avid player or one who plays well or often, but I enjoy the game because of its quiet and studious nature.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I always enjoy those kinds of moments -- with anyone.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">In 1974 I was in the small town of Vuyyurru on the Eastern coast of the country of India (between the Bay of Bengal and the Krishna River). That little village was one of the most interesting places that we traveled to during our ministry there, but it was also our most trying and challenging.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">We stayed in what reminded me of a large baseball dugout. One large room with no furniture. A few wooden tables and chairs were moved in for our convenience. Three small army cots to sleep on. As you can see in the background of the photo above, the front of our dugout was just wire fencing. Open-air, almost like camping out except for the three concrete walls and a concrete floor. That building was a part of a complex of similar structures arranged in a horseshoe pattern that had a grassy courtyard in the center that had a community water well in <i>its </i>center.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">We stayed in this place for over a week. Vincent, our traveling cook/friend, brought our meals here three times a day. He prepared them in the kitchen at the local village hospital.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Above is the only shot that I took of the Vuyyurru Hospital. I guess that I was not impressed with its cleanliness or its apparent lack of modernity. It was actually the center of the little village an was very important in the lives of everyone who lived there. The Chaplain there gave us a tour of the facility (it was quite different on the inside!) and he and his family attended all of our meetings at the local Church while we stayed there.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I'm sorry that I cannot remember his name. When you meet someone like him, you know that they are important in your life, and you can't imagine at the time that you will ever forget them. But I have learned that 44 years can make even important memories vanish away.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I do remember the name of his son - Daniel.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">While in the meeting at the Vuyyurru Church (we led morning and evening services for over a week) we became very close to this congregation of people. I especially got to know many of the kids.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">On the far left in the photo above is the Chaplain. Standing next to him is his son, Daniel.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">This village was so isolated and had such limited resources that few of the inhabitants could speak English. Ha! This was not entirely <i>their </i>limitation, WE could not speak THEIR language, and we were supposedly highly educated world travelers!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">On our third or fourth day service a very little boy came boldly up to me and said, "Hello, Dennis Bain, do you play chess?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">At first his words did not register with me. I knew that he was addressing me, so I looked around and spotted a couple of the Hindustan Bible Institute students who traveled with us as translators. They nodded and smiled, and then pointed me back to the child. He repeated his line, "Hello, Dennis Bain, do you play chess."</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I stammered, "Yes, I do! Who are you?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I was delighted, but this was the extent of Daniel's English. He had asked his Father, the Hospital Chaplain, to teach him this short phrase so that he could recite it to me when he had the opportunity. He had gone to a great deal of trouble to learn to speak this phonetically, and had plenty of courage to step up to me and spout it!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The translators then stepped up and helped us make connection. I learned his name and we set an appointment for after lunch. He communicated to me that he had a chess board and would bring it at a certain time. I looked forward to our time together.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">He came to our little dugout home and we sat and played for hours. He came on a couple of other days while we were there, but he always came on his own. We couldn't speak each other's language but we were able to communicate with signs and smiles. We both knew the language of chess. I can't remember how the games came out, who won or lost, but I will never forget him or that experience.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I was not able to keep in touch with many of the friends that I made in India. Language barriers and just the challenge of time and geography.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I trust that this little man has had a wonderful life. He is certainly a wonderful memory in mine. I hope that he has not forgotten me. Perhaps I will see him in Glory!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">Daniel, on my back in a game of Chicken Fight with some of the other children <br />during our daily play time in Vuyyuru</span></div>
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<br />John D. Bainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17661031023211164094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2772277322178451338.post-30325784334409417912018-11-21T11:21:00.002-06:002018-11-21T11:22:48.955-06:00For God So Loved the World - Tell Them<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: large;">I met Harold King in 1972 when he was serving as the Associate to a Youth Ministry Leader at a work in Nashville, Tennessee.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">He came with his group of teenagers to our Church in Flint as a part of a great Youth Revival Emphasis that we were having.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">One of the things that the group brought with them was a fervor for witnessing and sharing faith. A tool that they used for making connections with others was a small business card that simply had a single verse of scripture printed on it. John 3:16.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">We found that anyone could share the Good News about Jesus with their friends, family, and even with total strangers in an unobtrusive and nonabrasive way by simply giving a card. We discovered that many people were looking for good news or a reason to smile. The card helped them connect with something from their past, from their childhood, or with something about which they had never heard.</span></div>
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This is a copy of one of those very cards!</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">We learned from our friends from Nashville that we could share good news and great hope with anyone and everyone that we met with this little gift.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Our pastor at the time was John Hamilton. He picked up the thread that was created and went to the printer's and had thousands of these little cards made for the members of our Church to use and distribute. I don't know how many of them we gave away or how many smiles we caused, or how many people's lives may have been changed by reading those few words.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">When Harold King, Doug Anderson, and I had the opportunity to travel to India together in the Fall of 1974, Harold brought along a box full of the John 3:16 cards. We had heard that most of the Indian people could read and speak English, so he decided that this little gift might be as successful in a foreign country as it had been in his own. He was right!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Wherever we traveled in India, people of all ages wanted to talk to us, to hear our messages and about our faith -- and they all wanted a card to take with them!</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgi92eRqCV7agv-4LpWlwbfYmZsti3BhYq2W-YSkgUuo43oYprgMtyHiO8AbeGh8jIckwVQaspAI_-YqAlZHtEToamxRRkKjXPNondYptHZTHizTuBv_2BiBsGN8v37AEx2qARzirC8vM/s1600/12717287_10204165063606976_2476687794053364720_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="899" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgi92eRqCV7agv-4LpWlwbfYmZsti3BhYq2W-YSkgUuo43oYprgMtyHiO8AbeGh8jIckwVQaspAI_-YqAlZHtEToamxRRkKjXPNondYptHZTHizTuBv_2BiBsGN8v37AEx2qARzirC8vM/s400/12717287_10204165063606976_2476687794053364720_n.jpg" width="373" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">We found that the Indian people were very friendly and were open to speak with us about their faith and to hear about ours. It was a thrilling time for us and God blessed our efforts as many of the people that we made contact with wanted to know more about Christ and about how they could become a Christian.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I am not certain about the public climate today in the land of India. I do read statistics that say that Christianity is growing there, but I also hear that many in the country have responded to that growth and expansion with anger and intolerance. It is the same in our own country.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Today a small business card might start a riot or stir an angry mob. We are living in tumultuous times. But we are also living in times where, more than ever before, people need good news, hope, and words of salvation and life.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">God still loves the whole world, and He is doing His greatest work in all of human history right now, in our present day.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAOXp_ZVsTaLaU_O5zfsCqUzx_RuCn9D9GNLvvf8vKd2kGTa9x-k6MtIYyetESXuU8fSk87ZLCjeejtD-wAXVn0cfrY8GPGXHL9qfS5bBkrbXlDk4VGMED9csMwOPtied3qXiazRYsz2g/s1600/12745803_10204165082567450_1658920482591881704_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="889" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAOXp_ZVsTaLaU_O5zfsCqUzx_RuCn9D9GNLvvf8vKd2kGTa9x-k6MtIYyetESXuU8fSk87ZLCjeejtD-wAXVn0cfrY8GPGXHL9qfS5bBkrbXlDk4VGMED9csMwOPtied3qXiazRYsz2g/s400/12745803_10204165082567450_1658920482591881704_n.jpg" width="370" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">There are people who WANT to know, who want to hear.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Tell them.</span></div>
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John D. Bainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17661031023211164094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2772277322178451338.post-38717598848081240812018-11-16T16:21:00.002-06:002018-11-21T21:44:35.938-06:00I Surrender All<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXQdbwcOoF4t0x5t2wg_UbNW3LX73AjvM_B5MkahGfX83WzVEb-sVmYPd3aicg2EmPd6YwCtlh85CiTMasG8L9-aWmlPiKCZzTZ5iVNR41Xy9HG_qI_lHzDhsvMFLY5KoWzqPsVJQoGfo/s1600/Capture.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="197" data-original-width="217" height="363" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXQdbwcOoF4t0x5t2wg_UbNW3LX73AjvM_B5MkahGfX83WzVEb-sVmYPd3aicg2EmPd6YwCtlh85CiTMasG8L9-aWmlPiKCZzTZ5iVNR41Xy9HG_qI_lHzDhsvMFLY5KoWzqPsVJQoGfo/s400/Capture.PNG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">In the Fall of 1974 I was traveling over Southern India with two of my friends: Doug Anderson (20) and Harold King (22). I was only eighteen years old, myself. Freshly graduated from Morgan County High School in Hartselle, Alabama.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq42VnLN-dXkAZIjqDf4z7OHG2SNwxXfmlk9zQVKDabJVr0VyF6cLnNDDSpxRoQnugPSXv9j9qrCbeEl7GPhoFlKWAoplH2NnOd6iALKt1PUY_GuXKGsr6HO6Ds2YUgPQZ5JZ7lq5vqPI/s1600/547356_2871232960091_895960171_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="441" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq42VnLN-dXkAZIjqDf4z7OHG2SNwxXfmlk9zQVKDabJVr0VyF6cLnNDDSpxRoQnugPSXv9j9qrCbeEl7GPhoFlKWAoplH2NnOd6iALKt1PUY_GuXKGsr6HO6Ds2YUgPQZ5JZ7lq5vqPI/s400/547356_2871232960091_895960171_n.jpg" width="367" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I lost count of how many cities, towns, and villages we traveled to. We rode on bicycles, rickshaws, Three-wheeled cabs, buses, taxis, trains, and planes!</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB7puIZD-WqlV8rjr2-8qAKbzhiBBypug78zyrWCeLDQJj5-x6VVQHgkezlPWR9subZRu95-kfMmiSo1dU8KiWbEsWR3RzjvwayhKCJ8LXLLGC5D91s3-Eu06TClG-OspckseObn5uvNc/s1600/12734270_10204165068167090_2933657185951001083_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="903" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB7puIZD-WqlV8rjr2-8qAKbzhiBBypug78zyrWCeLDQJj5-x6VVQHgkezlPWR9subZRu95-kfMmiSo1dU8KiWbEsWR3RzjvwayhKCJ8LXLLGC5D91s3-Eu06TClG-OspckseObn5uvNc/s320/12734270_10204165068167090_2933657185951001083_n.jpg" width="301" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb5dwl_-EZmSP7jwYfYSXWUAb_PZpcW1bDqZFUSYrcv4zXO8iX2GUwxIRnGLarVzhv_AiO6nwjo5-Ch5AZQ-PN1z9uKMD5WYwUfUjOj_YWEwEBWyqhE1FxrQqPbgxm6K7imM_ywAsCgds/s1600/India+Rickshaw.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1063" data-original-width="1600" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb5dwl_-EZmSP7jwYfYSXWUAb_PZpcW1bDqZFUSYrcv4zXO8iX2GUwxIRnGLarVzhv_AiO6nwjo5-Ch5AZQ-PN1z9uKMD5WYwUfUjOj_YWEwEBWyqhE1FxrQqPbgxm6K7imM_ywAsCgds/s400/India+Rickshaw.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">We slept in what I called The Crow's Nest (the guest quarters at the Hindustan Bible Institute), in hotels, motels, missionary guest quarters, and even in what looked like a large baseball dugout with wire-covered open windows.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS1ltzRUarIsynVGnXXzORE85jrBWyrLZ-zlqH0zKtToEaluSOoJnpSQQZbiZ8Yo9_zEoo2ezkjSTZALPzezO2EKbXh5SpfAWqfIeJPaFgyiVEcrsk5w83gj29E-dBFjId0_UabLV380s/s1600/248167_2871232600082_1112275984_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="399" data-original-width="476" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS1ltzRUarIsynVGnXXzORE85jrBWyrLZ-zlqH0zKtToEaluSOoJnpSQQZbiZ8Yo9_zEoo2ezkjSTZALPzezO2EKbXh5SpfAWqfIeJPaFgyiVEcrsk5w83gj29E-dBFjId0_UabLV380s/s320/248167_2871232600082_1112275984_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"> The Crow's Nest at the HBI</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">We preached and sang on the streets, in chapels, in churches, in homes, hospitals, orphanages, and public meeting halls.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Our personal Cook (Vincent) traveled with us everywhere that we went (Bless HIS heart ---- Bless OUR hearts!!) and a group of the students from the Institute also traveled with us to guide us from place to place and serve as translators when we preached.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicrFbWw9sUBR5IHj2V4P8xmqVUi7AlUosk6RLesXROirXz5oDKxq6TPLsLgKxNoR52lOBycZdgncVdfxzz0OTlGOPN-Gym3D208Nl2Q9TMDWAMzt-Bh6D208KKK38vLaoFvzMbNAq4HY0/s1600/554412_2871236880189_822040936_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicrFbWw9sUBR5IHj2V4P8xmqVUi7AlUosk6RLesXROirXz5oDKxq6TPLsLgKxNoR52lOBycZdgncVdfxzz0OTlGOPN-Gym3D208Nl2Q9TMDWAMzt-Bh6D208KKK38vLaoFvzMbNAq4HY0/s640/554412_2871236880189_822040936_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Our dear Friend, Vincent, shopping</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The official state language of the nation of India is called Hindi, but our journeys took us up and down what is known as the Andhra Pradesh in Southern India -- where many of the people speak an ancient dialect called Telugu. Our student companions could speak English very well, but their native language was most often Tamil or Telugu.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">India had been under British rule (much like the United States) for many years, so many Indians speak English, and most of them drop everything that they are doing in the late afternoon to have Tea! (It is a custom that I enjoyed and came to look forward to every day the same as they).</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">In most of our engagements, Harold King and I would sing hymns, songs, and choruses to begin, make any comments that we wished to our group, crowd, or congregation, and then Doug would preach.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Doug enjoyed music and singing, but he was a gifted preacher -- a singer -- not so much.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Harold and I were both preachers, and we had a burning desire to be used of God in sharing a verbal message that He had given us. But, I could play the guitar, a VERY mobile instrument that permitted us accompaniment wherever we went, and both Harold and I were pretty decent singers.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">In MOST of the unusual locations where we found ourselves I was grateful to have my guitar with us. It was the same 12-string Gibson that my Dad had given me when I was twelve years old. The Flint Baptist Church had bought me a very heavy-duty guitar case to house it. I still use that guitar often and carry it in the case that has borne and protected it around the world.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXdM_o7FjaLcgmTfy9LwkYtPv8SchaEGYQANKkANpHfpsIocVQjYbx7kXUEWbbku1TjtP175v60yEPUWpLD89NOL36q_GNthBHha5EbVgv-JeYQL5MRY923Vtw5P6Md0lrONfYIX76BFY/s1600/DSCN9210.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXdM_o7FjaLcgmTfy9LwkYtPv8SchaEGYQANKkANpHfpsIocVQjYbx7kXUEWbbku1TjtP175v60yEPUWpLD89NOL36q_GNthBHha5EbVgv-JeYQL5MRY923Vtw5P6Md0lrONfYIX76BFY/s320/DSCN9210.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW87hZdpGEbPirj_-lCmhHuEqTBygC_ALD7NOFl6BFvNjSDY2GWNkupKWPiwEdGoVWnLkjPqXKliwBAr_Qhjjvv17D6HLAYc-bwDSz6JUtRfOGVmoRxxMk1WfHSvu2aJJXRvLOIpKT5aU/s1600/DSCN9211.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1083" data-original-width="1600" height="216" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW87hZdpGEbPirj_-lCmhHuEqTBygC_ALD7NOFl6BFvNjSDY2GWNkupKWPiwEdGoVWnLkjPqXKliwBAr_Qhjjvv17D6HLAYc-bwDSz6JUtRfOGVmoRxxMk1WfHSvu2aJJXRvLOIpKT5aU/s320/DSCN9211.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">BUT, in some of the churches that we entered we found that they had organs, sometimes a piano, a guitar, and tambourines. My favorite instruments in the churches, however, were the little Harmoniums.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiytwrC-jtI269DT3QRwDmtdc77yIf4apVPhfqircxpf-ikZPBF6c_igiqPa6mWx0z8UPdCG3keTSM4663FXzs8pN2s505Y9YJnror64GE1ZlEV3JyfL2g5j1-YwXMaeWQoibwD-N3bhBw/s1600/12717811_10204144164924522_3689861080266854550_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="419" data-original-width="443" height="377" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiytwrC-jtI269DT3QRwDmtdc77yIf4apVPhfqircxpf-ikZPBF6c_igiqPa6mWx0z8UPdCG3keTSM4663FXzs8pN2s505Y9YJnror64GE1ZlEV3JyfL2g5j1-YwXMaeWQoibwD-N3bhBw/s400/12717811_10204144164924522_3689861080266854550_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">A Harmonium is a little keyboard wind-driven instrument which is played with one hand while the other hand pumps an air-baffle on the back. It produces a very sweet organ-like sound. A number of the churches where we ministered had these with several talented people in the congregation who could play them.</span><br />
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An Indian Harmonium</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Harold and I were always delighted to join in worship with a congregation or village where we were not the only musicians or music worship leaders.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Wherever we went, Believers wanted to learn the songs that we sang. They often asked me to write down the words and chords to the songs that they heard us sing that were new to them.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">AND they would teach us to sing some of the songs and choruses that were popular in their circles of worship. I can still remember a few of them and can sing them. (I just can't remember where I put my glasses!).</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">When we were in churches that had their own music leaders, or choirs, or musicians they always sang during the final song -- the altar call or invitational hymn.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">It was strange to see that they had many recognizable customs in their worship and church work. Music, the reception of an offering, the offering of prayers and personal testimonies, the preaching of the word, and then a closing invitational hymn for response to the message and God's leading.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">As we went from place to place I noticed that in every different location, the congregation was singing the very same invitational hymn in Telugu.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Now, if you are familiar with the long ministry of the Billy Graham Evangelistic Association, you know that Cliff Barrows has only ONE hymn that he has used as in invitational hymn over the years.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Just as I Am.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">No search for variety, just simplicity. It conveys the message that Billy wanted the decider to hear. I can come to Jesus: Just as I am.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I recognized the song that our Indian brothers and sisters were singing almost immediately. And they were singing it everywhere that we went.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>I Surrender All.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I knew the melody and the words of every verse, in English. Soon both Harold and I could sing most of the verses and the chorus without fail -- in Telugu.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I can still remember the words of the chorus, and I can hear us singing that song and watching so many people come forward to give their lives to Christ!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">It was only years later, in memory and reflection, that God showed me why these Christians were using that particular hymn to call their families, friends, and fellow-countrymen to Christ.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">We knew at the time, but were not fully aware, of what persecution any Indian faced when he or she gave their lives to Christ. To become a Christian there is very dangerous.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">We had learned that through listening to Dr. and Mrs. Gupta's conversion stories. Dr. Gupta's father had tried to kill him, Mrs. Gupta's family had completely disowned her.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Many of the students at the Hindustan Bible Institute were so happy to be able to live and work at the school, because their profession of Faith in Christ had made them homeless outcasts.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">In our preaching and singing we were not only inviting souls to Christ. We were challenging them to surrender everything to come to Him.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Not just church membership, or getting religion -- surrendering all.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">It made my preaching and singing -- from that time until now -- a little more earnest.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">All to Jesus I surrender<br />All to Him I freely give<br />I will ever love and trust Him<br />In His presence daily live</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">All to Jesus I surrender<br />Humbly at His feet I bow<br />Worldly pleasures all forsaken<br />Take me Jesus take me now</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I surrender all<br />I surrender all<br />All to Thee my blessed Savior<br />I surrender all</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">All to Jesus I surrender<br />Make me Savior wholly Thine<br />Let me feel the Holy Spirit<br />Truly know that Thou art mine</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">All to Jesus I surrender<br />Lord I give myself to Thee<br />Fill me with Thy love and power<br />Let Thy blessings fall on me</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">All to Jesus I surrender<br />Now I feel the sacred flame<br />Oh the joy of full salvation<br />Glory glory to His name</span><br />
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John D. Bainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17661031023211164094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2772277322178451338.post-82260666075523932742018-11-16T15:02:00.002-06:002018-11-18T17:15:40.450-06:00Lone Star Telugu Baptist Church, Nellore, India<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAyDacgKRYXX4fk4UKyoP3C6uuxrRmPCOPQNMYk3DX9n5inf92XU5fnxh6NuHrXkekxe454ezXc57M2QuHIK_ilg522cEkOlfjiXGZ0DSW5EJL3BOinbzNQkwuidAjk_ChXA3jdKCtiUM/s1600/2017-04-04.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="533" data-original-width="400" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAyDacgKRYXX4fk4UKyoP3C6uuxrRmPCOPQNMYk3DX9n5inf92XU5fnxh6NuHrXkekxe454ezXc57M2QuHIK_ilg522cEkOlfjiXGZ0DSW5EJL3BOinbzNQkwuidAjk_ChXA3jdKCtiUM/s640/2017-04-04.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">In 1974 I was blessed with the opportunity of engaging in a mission trip to the country of India with two of my Friends in Ministry.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I had met Harold King in 1973 when he came to our church as a part of a Christian Youth Ministry that was based in Nashville, Tennessee. He was the associate to the Evangelist that was leading our church in Revival Services and he brought a bus load of Nashville teens who were all very enthusiastic young Christians. It was a great revival and Harold and I became friends from that first meeting.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">After that, our church young people went to Nashville several times for Youth Rally events, so I had a chance to work with Harold on those occasions.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Later in the Winter of that same year (1973) our pastor invited a young Evangelist named Doug Anderson to come to our church to lead us in a week long revival. I remember that Friday was to be the last night of the revival and that I was going to have to miss the service because I was in the hospital after having my wisdom teeth removed.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I really hated missing any of the revival, because Doug was the most dynamic and powerful preacher that I had ever heard. We had immediately become good friends upon his arrival for the week-long meeting and God blessed our church through his preaching. I had been licensed into the Gospel ministry earlier that year and was at that time serving as the Youth Director of my home church.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I became a Christian in 1970 through the ministry of the Flint Baptist Church in Flint City, Alabama. A very short time after my conversion I began to receive invitations from my church and churches and other Christian organizations in the surrounding area to tell the story of my conversion and to lead in evangelistic meetings. Upon later reflection I came to believe that I had been chosen by God to be a minister for Him at the same time that I was saved.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Flint Baptist pastors, members, and leadership had always encouraged my growth in the Faith and gave me wonderful opportunities to practice becoming what God wanted me to be for Him. In 1973 the church formally recognized my call into Christian Service and issued a License in the Ministry of the Gospel to me. They immediately gave me my first church staff job by calling me to work as the Youth Director of the Church.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">On the Friday night in 1973 that I lay in a hospital bed, wishing that instead I might be in a revival service at my church, I was alone in my room and feeling sore and groggy from the surgery and medication, but also sad and left out. Before the gloom could completely overcome me, Doug Anderson slipped into my room and sat down in a chair next to my bed.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">It hurt to smile, but I smiled broadly, anyway.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I was thrilled that he took the time to come see me after the conclusion of our church revival and honored that he thought enough of me to take the time. He was on his way back to Hendersonville, Tennessee where he lived.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">He told me everything about the service that I had missed, and the exciting conclusion. God had really moved during the final invitation and a number of people made important decisions before the night was over.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Before Doug left, he told me that he was about to embark upon one of the greatest adventures of his life. He couldn't tell me much about it because everything was still in the beginning stages. But he said that when he knew more, he would tell me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Before he left my hospital room he told me that whatever God was planning for him, he believed that He wanted ME to be a part of the adventure!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I was astounded and speechless.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">He had prayer with me and left.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The adventure to which he was referring (I later found out) was that he had been preaching in a Conference with several other preachers when he met a Dr. Paul Gupta. Dr. Gupta was touring the United States telling Americans about the great work that he was doing through his school, The Hindustan Bible Institute in Madras, India.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Dr. Gupta had spoken at the Conference where he and Doug met. Doug was one of the speakers at the meeting, too, and Dr. Gupta was very impressed with his preaching and ministry.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> <span style="font-size: small;">Dr. and Mrs. Gupta, Daniel, Sam and Sally</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">He told Doug that he would like to invite him to come to India as the guest of the Institute and to preach all over southern India. He could arrange for Doug to preach in dozens of cities, towns, and villages all across the Andrha Pradesh.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And -- if he had a support team that he could bring with him -- they would be welcome as well.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Doug began praying about the invitation -- when he accepted, he then asked Harold King and me to join him as his team. Doug would preach and Harold and I would sing at every meeting and preach as we were needed.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">We departed on our journey in the Fall of 1974.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">One of the most memorable places that we were able to minister was in the city of Nellore. We got to sing and preach at the historic Lone Star Telugu Baptist Church.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I have included a link to a written history of that great church if you wish to read it. What an honor it was to stand and serve in a place where God had worked so mightily in the past.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I hope that you will read it (the link is below).</span></div>
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The Lone Star Telugu Baptist Church </div>
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in Nellore, India</div>
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The Nellore Town Hall where we held a public meeting</div>
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Town Hall Seating and Stage Platform</div>
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The History of the Telugu Mission by Dr. David Downie, D.D.</div>
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<a href="http://www.johndbain.com/lone-star.html" target="_blank">Read the History OnLine</a></div>
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<br />John D. Bainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17661031023211164094noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2772277322178451338.post-24225953967220420982018-11-13T17:46:00.002-06:002018-11-23T15:27:26.653-06:00Sing, Elvis!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: large;">I grew up listening to and watching Elvis Presley's music and movies.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Even as a little boy I was aware that Elvis was one of us . . .</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">A Southern boy that made good, made it to the big time.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">My Mother must have had an innocent crush on him (I'm sure Dad liked him, too), because we went to the drive in many times to see the newest Elvis movie. I guess that we saw them all.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Elvis was a singer, of course, not an actor. Though he could act far better than I ever could, if asked or given the chance. So, I have never been critical of his acting abilities. Many have.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I enjoyed going to see Elvis' movies for many reasons. The hokey plot, the exciting film locations, the pretty girls, not to mention being out with the family. Buttery, greasy home-popped popcorn in a big Kroger paper grocery bag and a gallon jug of VERY sweet tea. (We never went to the concession stand, except to use the little boy's room.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">But more than all of that, I wanted to see AND hear Elvis sing. And we could do that at the movies.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">From the very beginning of Elvis' career, you had to see him to get the whole effect!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Elvis first appeared on the Ed Sullivan Show in September of 1956. The year that I was born. I don't remember seeing him perform that night live, but I'm sure that I was propped up in front of a small black and white TV as Mom and Dad tuned him in. I have seen the video of that performance, it is historic on several levels, not the least of which is that the cameramen only shot him from the waist up!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Elvis Presley's sexy gyrations were a little too racy for American Home Viewing in 1956.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">But later, we got to see the King's moves -- in the King's movies.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">An amusing observation, however, is one that I made only in reflection as I looked back on those movie memories. It seems odd now that in every movie Elvis would be in a cafe, a club, on the beach, or in a parking lot -- and suddenly break into song!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">For the most part, Elvis' movies would be classified as musicals (He did a few dramas that did not involve his singing talent). And, musicals always are a stretch on reality, because life is just not like that at all. But the viewer understands that, there is going to be story line and then the cast or the star will sing a song.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The actors are acting - the plot is progressing - the story is being told - and then someone says, "Sing, Elvis!" And Elvis would burst out into a fully orchestrated song and choreographed dance.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">It seemed completely Hollywood to me, until I had my own Sing, Elvis moment.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">In 1974 I had the amazing opportunity of traveling with two of my friends to the land of India. I was eighteen years old and had just graduated from High School. Harold Kind served at a Christian Ministry in Nashville, Tennessee and Doug Anderson was a Southern Baptist Evangelist. He was the leader of our trio of Preacher-Singers. He was only twenty at the time. We didn't realize it at the time, but we were just three kids on an adventure.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Dr. Paul Gupta, the President of the Hindustan Bible Institute in Madras (now Chennai), invited us to come to his country as his guests, and to travel all over southern India preaching and singing as Christian Missionaries and representatives of his school.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We traveled to India and visited more churches, schools, and meeting halls than I can remember. It was a tremendous opportunity for three eager boys. I am grateful for the memory of the experiences of that time, many of the things that happened shaped and changed me forever.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">In the latter part of our stay there, quite frankly, we were tired, homesick, and exhausted. I had contracted a case of dysentery and had been very sick for a week or two. We all missed the rich southern food upon which we had all been raised, and we were not resting as peacefully as we might if we had been just a little closer to home.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Our mission was complete. We had met all of our engagements and fulfilled all of our commitments and obligations (as well as many stints that had not been planned and were not on the schedule). We had a few more weeks that we could stay, but we had run out of plan!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Shortly after we had arrived in Madras, Dr. and Mrs. Gupta and some of the School administrators and local pastors took us to visit the motel that Billy Graham had stayed at when he led the great Crusade there back in 1956. It was a gorgeous place and was renowned for its wonderful restaurant and dinning hall.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">It was all very lavish! We felt like visiting dignitaries! Everything was beautiful and the food was served on a buffet like we had never seen before. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Well, in our spent and bedraggled state, Harold suggested that we go back to the motel for a meal. Just the three of us for a refreshing and rejuvenating night out. It was enthusiastically received and we called a cab and headed into the city.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Everything in the dinning hall was candelabra lit and white linened. Waiting staff wore formal serving uniforms, the tables were all set with fine china and silverware. A five-piece live band was on a stage to our right, playing and singing popular songs in a variety of languages. We recognized many of the songs that they were singing.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">It was all like a dream - as so much of what we had already experienced had been.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">We ordered from the menu on this occasion and enjoyed the atmosphere and music as we waited for our food.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">We ate as if we were starving and were finishing our desert when the band decided to take a break.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">They placed down their instruments - and then came walking to our table!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Their spokesman, the lead singer, spoke to us in English as they approached us. "Are you Americans?" he asked in a friendly tone. We smiled and blushed, realizing how easily we were read by others by our speech and manners. We proudly owned the question, however, and shook hands and spoke with each member of the band. We complimented them for their music and singing and told them just a little about who we were and why we were in India.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">When the band leader heard that I played the guitar and that Harold and I sang, he smiled broadly and said, "Sing, Elvis!"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Well, he didn't actually say those words, but that is what I heard.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Suddenly we were in a musical, and someone that we had just met was asking us to jump up on stage and perform.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Actually it was not a performance, but another chance for us to minster as we had so many times before. With help from the band we went to the small stage that they had been singing from, I was given use of the guitar that we had been enjoying earlier, the microphones were positioned and Harold and I sang.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The lavish dinning room was filled with some of the wealthiest travelers in the city (it appeared). It was a different time and no thought was given that we might offend one of the guests or that anyone would be angry at our music or our message.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">We sang what had been our theme song all across India. We had sung it in churches, at schools, in meeting halls. In thatch-roofed huts, and open-air gatherings. In villages that was home to the poorest people that we had ever met.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">And now it seemed in my mind that we were being asked to sing before Kings and Queens.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">We sang "I'll Tell the World that I'm a Christian."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The members of the band all smiled and cheered for us appreciatively. (Doug, I think, was waiting to be asked to preach!). And when we concluded, every person in the dining hall applauded for us. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">We will only know in Eternity what seed might have been planted in some wealthy traveler's heart that evening. Something that led someone there to want to be able to tell someone that they were a Christian.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Our night on the town had been Harold's idea, but God sent us there that night.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Sitting at a table just behind us was a middle-aged couple. A man and his wife who were both doctors. And not only doctors, but Southern Baptist Missionaries.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">They were on a layover on their way to serve at the Southern Baptist Convention Hospital in Bangalore. They had been assigned there after completing their seminary training and would be there for two years. The motel in Madras was the last stop in their journey before they would be taken by car to south India.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">After our musical presentation they came to our table and introduced themselves. They invited us to their table and we had more desert and coffee. We enjoyed the sweetest fellowship, like we had all known each other for years. They talked about their faith and their journey and we shared ours.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">They invited us to come down to Bangalore to see the work there and meet Dr. Rebekah Naylor, their Chief Surgeon and Director of the Hospital.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-bw-1-Mq8HfCAP3Vhq5yFxDo4dBj9fK0MBTcXPWuUNotZAA0bsv7LfTn_ECWxUSnL1cPiDzgAd5v2MSFkEeZsgG5EQ8mFAuhK6hK5CBowdk_4wZmXEwP4s0Y0CQDUZQZ28ygG3onzOZk/s1600/12711234_10204165067687078_5674841937238559775_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1002" data-original-width="1421" height="450" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-bw-1-Mq8HfCAP3Vhq5yFxDo4dBj9fK0MBTcXPWuUNotZAA0bsv7LfTn_ECWxUSnL1cPiDzgAd5v2MSFkEeZsgG5EQ8mFAuhK6hK5CBowdk_4wZmXEwP4s0Y0CQDUZQZ28ygG3onzOZk/s640/12711234_10204165067687078_5674841937238559775_o.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7ygA8VYYuJ8ianO-EJqwZxsuZrptl3sIdv3xtnSxmFQtBYpxWuQIXoxZlfE5vI2RgjlIu0XgHrANwbUDvCHWbwURs9KQgw_KkW4Tr16zfIWVZLznusq1hlETiXbUD_i_PhQ_C8XD8lYQ/s1600/Dr.+Naylore.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="580" data-original-width="955" height="388" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7ygA8VYYuJ8ianO-EJqwZxsuZrptl3sIdv3xtnSxmFQtBYpxWuQIXoxZlfE5vI2RgjlIu0XgHrANwbUDvCHWbwURs9KQgw_KkW4Tr16zfIWVZLznusq1hlETiXbUD_i_PhQ_C8XD8lYQ/s640/Dr.+Naylore.JPG" width="640" /> </a></div>
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Dr. Rebekah Naylor, the Director of the Southern Baptist Hospital in Bangalore, India</div>
was away on Sabbatical during our visit there in 1974. But her presence and her<br />
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influence were still strongly felt by us in her absence.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLtXP4O9OK7mC0PJV8ubFahXw1yG7-FZ6ElnDap0OuYJ5gta9cBf9omTB-TdkCU90if0DHZizIW134Ua_VYwMyDK_NPtQLq4l2l8BzocjSpZiFvSAqug0nriqLHn69SWdYH5bw622KOm8/s1600/1508568_10204165067367070_906555308142246923_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="881" data-original-width="960" height="586" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLtXP4O9OK7mC0PJV8ubFahXw1yG7-FZ6ElnDap0OuYJ5gta9cBf9omTB-TdkCU90if0DHZizIW134Ua_VYwMyDK_NPtQLq4l2l8BzocjSpZiFvSAqug0nriqLHn69SWdYH5bw622KOm8/s640/1508568_10204165067367070_906555308142246923_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">THIS was astounding -- even more surprising and glorious than our Elvis moment!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">As things turned out, we DID travel to Bangalore. We stayed there for nearly two weeks. THAT story is ANOTHER adventure in itself. I will tell it later.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">In 1 Peter 3:15 the Apostle says, "Always be ready to give an answer for the Hope that is in you!"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I am so glad that we were ready that night. We were in the groove. By the guiding hand of the Holy Spirit we were where we were supposed to be (thousands of miles from home), in the spot He had ordained for us. We didn't have a guitar - so He provided one. We didn't hesitate when we saw the chance to speak up and sing up.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">That was a great blessing with untold Harvest, and our obedience opened up another door that we could not have found if we were looking for it. We couldn't have prayed for it by name or description, but God was leading.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I had already learned, and that night affirmed my belief, to be ready to jump when God says jump, never asking why or how high.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Believers: be ready at all times! You never know when a total stranger might look right at you and say,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Sing, Elvis!"</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 18.0pt;">I’ll Tell the World that I’m a
Christian</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br />Words and Music by Baynard L. Fox</span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I’ll tell the world that I’m a Christian</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I'm not ashamed His Name to bear</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I'll tell the world that I'm a Christian<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">I'll take him with me anywhere.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I’ll tell the world how Jesus saved me,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And how He gave me a life brand new;</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And I know that if you trust Him,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">That all He gave me He’ll give to you. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I’ll tell the world that He’s my savior,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">No other one could love me so;</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">My life, my all is His forever, </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">And where He leads me I will go.</span> </span></div>
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I’ll tell the world that He is coming<br />
It may be near or far away;<br />
But we must live as if His coming </div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Could be tomorrow or today. </span></div>
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For when He comes and life is over,<br />
For those who love Him there’s more to be; </div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Eyes have never seen the wonders </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">That He’s preparing for you and me. </span></span></div>
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<br />
O tell the world that you’re a Christian,<br />
Be not ashamed His name to bear;<br />
O tell the world that you’re a Christian,<br />
And take Him with you ev’rywhere.<br />
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<br />John D. Bainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17661031023211164094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2772277322178451338.post-60937757774118138392018-03-23T22:41:00.001-05:002018-03-23T22:51:22.328-05:00Match Cross<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWdy7v58u6vbx2PuM5aWcb5MaROcdwqLzuqRAQGQ7Ol10wLhNFZL8Vhljq0-d2lg5Fe2yhWrhkJD-GzgYW9IbfGizIweh6idxYOWCwGz2RaHNo3ergz0aQg8pAmOf9fVSZNlN7n2v3ZAk/s1600/DSCN5307.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWdy7v58u6vbx2PuM5aWcb5MaROcdwqLzuqRAQGQ7Ol10wLhNFZL8Vhljq0-d2lg5Fe2yhWrhkJD-GzgYW9IbfGizIweh6idxYOWCwGz2RaHNo3ergz0aQg8pAmOf9fVSZNlN7n2v3ZAk/s400/DSCN5307.JPG" width="400" /> </a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">This is a knick-knack, or maybe it is a what-knot. I'm not really sure. It is a visual curiosity or a conversation piece. A memory or a lesson.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">It has adorned my study desks or book shelves in various churches where I have served over the past 30 or 40 years.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">It was given to me by a member of my family and I recall that it came into their possession from a prison inmate. Something made with idle time. A craft of penance or devotion perhaps.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">It is the figure of a Cross, made of burnt matches. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">It always makes me think of a very funny prison joke that I have told over the years that I think is hilarious but no one ever seems to laugh at.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">A minister was visiting a federal prison, chatting with the inmates, being friendly, and sharing his time and company. In his rounds he saw a singular prisoner with a worn garment in his lap, attending to it earnestly in repair with a needle and thread.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">As the minister passed by he asked casually, "Sowing?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">To which the inmate glibly replied, "No, reaping."</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Now, don't you think that is the funniest dry-humor joke you have ever heard? Ha!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">My match cross makes me think, and it speaks many different kinds of lessons to me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">It is a simple and yet striking creation. The artistic work did not require genius, but it has a flare to it (if you will pardon the pun).</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Over a hundred wooden matches were measured, cut to size, the head of the match was fired and extinguished to create the basic materials of construction. All of the cut and burned matches were glued meticulously and carefully to a Styrofoam base.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The Match Cross always starts its conversation with me by asking (non verbally), "Are you going to burn our for Jesus?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">It's like an inventory or check-up question. It needs to be asked every once in a while. It is never an irrelevant question.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I hear someone saying (in my mind), in response to the silent question: "Well, I'd rather burn out than rust out!"</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And my response to that is always the same: "Burn out, rust out, either way -- you're OUT."</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">You see, to burn out is to snuff out from exhaustion, turn to ash from the fires of enthusiasm and/or passion. To become an incendiary offering for the cause of Christ and the Gospel. To work so hard and so long with such dedication that when all is said and done (and a LOT is said and done), there is nothing left but cold charcoal, not even a glowing, smoking ember.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">To rust out is to sit still. Do nothing. Sit out. Surrender. Quit. Oxidizing instead of energizing.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Maybe burning out is more respectable than rusting out from inactivity or laziness or neglect, but you're still OUT.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I hope that my life and ministry will always be characterized by fire and energy. Enthusiasm and zeal.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Passion. Heart. Fervor.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">But I don't want to wind up as a desktop monument to expiration.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I don't want to be a Match Cross.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">A testament to Christ . . . but all of my fire gone.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Not a spark left.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Struck out. Burnt out. Worn out. Done. OUT. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I DO want to fight a good fight and FINISH my course, but I don't want to run out of flame or fuel on this side of forever.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Jesus said, "Come to Me . . . all of you who are laboring and are heavily burdened with your work. I will give you rest. Come work for Me,</span><span style="font-size: large;"> and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. Working for me -- is easy." Matthew 11:28-30</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="p">Jesus meant, if you are working for Him, serving Him, dedicating your life to Him and His cause and purposes, and you are getting tired, worn out, and burnt out, you're doing it wrong.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="p">Serving God is easy. Living for Jesus is easy. Being the Christian that I was saved to be is easy. If it is not, I'm doing it wrong.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="p">I don't know if this message resonates with you, but it is one that I need often. I'm still learning to lean on Him. To trust in Him and His power and resource. Learning to draw from His strength. From Him. Learning what it means to be able to work and serve and do, in a constant state of rest. His rest.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="p">I'm not a Match Cross. </span></span></div>
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<br />John D. Bainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17661031023211164094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2772277322178451338.post-36849028169270529602008-08-09T16:49:00.005-05:002014-04-19T21:14:12.598-05:00The Right Paths<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='420' height='366' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dx1bqnn_VAhUxAyoeKiyZOOXfnhkLMhx1xuiGSKzxaM47QHk9TybrJ1yn_95r6EgGakjTj9RsXOf33USUDRuQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">This is some footage that I took of a Palestinian Shepherd and his flock at Tel Lakhish near Beersheba in southern Palestine.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I was reminded (as I'm sure all of our pilgrims were) of the Shepherd's Psalm --- 23.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I particularly thought of "He leads me in paths of Righteousness for His name's sake."</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Righteousness is a very religious term, it seems to me, but the true meaning of the word comes out in this Psalm about shepherds and sheep. The psalmist is merely saying that the shepherd leads his sheep in the right paths. Leads them where they need to go, where they ought to go. Where HE wants them to go.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Isn't it obvious from watching this video that the "right" path is not always the easy path or the straight path or the shortest path or the path that I would have chosen myself?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I walked down this very same hill myself --- but I came down the gravel road which sloped gently and easily to the bottom. I would never have chosen to march down the treacherous face of the back side of this incline.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And if you will notice in the video --- there IS a path coming down the side that the sheep are being led --- the shepherd (for his own reason) doesn't even use THAT! It's someone else's path, obviously.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I didn't stop the shepherd and ask him why he chose to bring his flock down the way that he did. I was curious but I didn't figure that it was any of my business.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I'm trying to learn not to question my own Shepherd about the paths that He chooses for me. That's not any of my business either.</span></div>
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John D. Bainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17661031023211164094noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2772277322178451338.post-9013726044053842962008-08-09T15:51:00.008-05:002014-04-19T21:15:12.937-05:00The Place of the Skull<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">In Genesis 22 the story of God's requirement of Abraham to offer Isaac is recorded.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">There are some phrases in that passage that stand out to me, now that I have seen the topography of the land for myself.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">In 22:2 God tells Abraham to go "the Land of Moriah" to "one of the mountains that I will tell you about." I had mistakenly remembered that Isaac was offered on Mt. Moriah, but that is not exactly what the text says.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">What would you tell someone about a mountain that would enable them to know that they were in the right place? This question led me to believe that there was something visibly remarkable about the mountain that Abraham would recognize upon first sight of the area described. (22:4 Abraham saw -- and recognized the place -- "afar off."</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">22:3 says that Abraham "went unto the place of which God had told him." A specific, particular place that Abraham could go to and not doubt that he had arrived. Why couldn't Abraham have performed this sacrifice near his home? What was unique and different about the place that Abraham was taking Isaac to that would be significant?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The descriptive revelatory conversation is not recorded in the Bible. But God obviously spoke to Abraham as he traveled and camped along the three day journey from Beersheeba to the Land of Moriah. He told him something that would allow him to locate the particular spot for the sacrifice.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">As Abraham traveled from the south at Beersheba, I believe that he followed the Jordan rift, circumvented the Land of Moriah on the West and approached the mountains from the North. Even when Abraham was miles away from Moriah I believe that this is what he saw in the distance:</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinU31Qj4vZsx0A_UYMgVoYHqdSGvOvvJv3Hpou0JK7LoIB1eDWfIrMZ18tj0fpVAt6L9B5crsmJtv-Wy3Go_f15M0-fXtbTV1LQP3R4_Nfs361KhVL8qpizZxuZUzeE2pf0JUw0KqtoUA/s1600-h/gordons_calvary_1900.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinU31Qj4vZsx0A_UYMgVoYHqdSGvOvvJv3Hpou0JK7LoIB1eDWfIrMZ18tj0fpVAt6L9B5crsmJtv-Wy3Go_f15M0-fXtbTV1LQP3R4_Nfs361KhVL8qpizZxuZUzeE2pf0JUw0KqtoUA/s400/gordons_calvary_1900.jpg" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5232628119840935938" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;" /></a></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">This is a photograph taken on the northern face of the Moriahan mountain range in the year 1900. It has eroded over the centuries. How hideous and terrible the sight of this laughing human skull must have appeared to Abraham 2000 years ago as he made his way to perform the most tragic deed of his entire life.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">God might have spoken to Abraham in his journey, "Abraham, you will know that you have found the place of sacrifice and death when you see a mountain that I have purposefully shaped into the image of death itself. There is where you will offer your son."</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Abraham, no doubt grieved every step of his journey. And the very thought of this deadly image mockingly calling out to him caused his heart to ache. How his heart must have fallen when he caught first glimpse of place of the skull.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We know that God did not permit Abraham to follow-through with his commitment to obedience to God's command --- but the event was a foreshadowing of when God DID give HIS Son --- on this very mountain.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">You see, it was on one of the mountains of the Land of Moriah that the city of Jerusalem would be built. Muslims have built one of their most sacred mosques upon the site that they believe is the location of the very stone upon which Abraham offered Isaac (The Dome of the Rock, on the Temple Mount).</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">But there is nothing visibly remarkably or topographically unusual about the Temple Mount or the site of the mosque.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">In 1882 Charles George Gordon, on an expedition to the land of Israel, and the city of Jerusalem in particular was show a place that was known by the Jews as beth has sekilah or "The house of stoning" and revered by many as Jeremiah's Grotto. There was evidence that this location was described in the first century as "Golgotha" Aramaic for "The Place of the Skull." The Romans described it as "Calvary" (latin for "skull hill")</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I took the photograph below in April of 2008 of the place that is described today as Gordon's Calvary. A place that many believe today was the hill upon which Jesus was crucified. Even after 2000 years the image of the skull is still apparent.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjFW_ii12AHdcv-0DqePdu2wTUMhZZy4FVJtMflWx8h25CJVQZeKBasJoYmVYfXHllHQSg2aiyxv7TeroBnXAxH39TQD_pCHdX-e3uOrIKp0A1GtDqNuj9gW3C87u_EEA6fhgf9K9IWg8/s1600-h/Golgotha2.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjFW_ii12AHdcv-0DqePdu2wTUMhZZy4FVJtMflWx8h25CJVQZeKBasJoYmVYfXHllHQSg2aiyxv7TeroBnXAxH39TQD_pCHdX-e3uOrIKp0A1GtDqNuj9gW3C87u_EEA6fhgf9K9IWg8/s400/Golgotha2.jpg" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5232635057528806082" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;" /></a></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinU31Qj4vZsx0A_UYMgVoYHqdSGvOvvJv3Hpou0JK7LoIB1eDWfIrMZ18tj0fpVAt6L9B5crsmJtv-Wy3Go_f15M0-fXtbTV1LQP3R4_Nfs361KhVL8qpizZxuZUzeE2pf0JUw0KqtoUA/s1600-h/gordons_calvary_1900.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='420' height='366' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwpgLRmlxR9fCfl6xtJbHEBsBY7xVIjYUidmlTnbMuOQAfy0k1cFjD10nS_kbs_8jyPqFS1BYwjFT9SyjtF' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></a></span></div>
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John D. Bainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17661031023211164094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2772277322178451338.post-91105086435781497332008-05-09T12:34:00.009-05:002016-05-25T09:53:49.232-05:00An Ibex Scheme of Things<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNb5Gvgmmjsl9xCBgtddJRCD9HKJi07F2r4LRmbR1WTvgBb-faxrBJxsVgKVVOE3chcMLS-m9U-z3jyyR4AQYo8gNggpQEgZ-cUoWx3jPd-_LyvHkiV9AFYTHna0HBsSgnShmkPg9_r88/s1600-h/Ibex+jpg2.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5198438555840564738" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNb5Gvgmmjsl9xCBgtddJRCD9HKJi07F2r4LRmbR1WTvgBb-faxrBJxsVgKVVOE3chcMLS-m9U-z3jyyR4AQYo8gNggpQEgZ-cUoWx3jPd-_LyvHkiV9AFYTHna0HBsSgnShmkPg9_r88/s400/Ibex+jpg2.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;" /></a></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">This is an Ibex.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">It's a small mountain goat whose native land is northern Africa. They have migrated into Eurasia over centuries --- I photographed this one in the Negev region of Israel in 2008.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdCjGgOKNE81nOX8PX26-Y1DsRp4OYYtRlpeR1d9fmerFt-zLtbiJSrU3Pd5fl0bd6mQwSrAX6sUMvS8uw0SSF10XHMBesil9HAgPi8JAzi3hzRohNFCKZmu2dTCEZDIhh8b7l6h3sg78/s1600-h/Ibex+jpg3.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5198439346114547218" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdCjGgOKNE81nOX8PX26-Y1DsRp4OYYtRlpeR1d9fmerFt-zLtbiJSrU3Pd5fl0bd6mQwSrAX6sUMvS8uw0SSF10XHMBesil9HAgPi8JAzi3hzRohNFCKZmu2dTCEZDIhh8b7l6h3sg78/s400/Ibex+jpg3.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;" /></a></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">In biblical times they were very populous in the lower, mountainous regions of the land of Israel but have become endangered as a species in the last few years. Conservation efforts have revived the numbers and it is becoming more common to spot them.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The Ibex is mentioned in scripture as the "wild goat." Deuteronomy 14:5 Psalm 104:18 I Samuel 24:2 Job 39:1</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The interesting thing about the Ibex, however is not its biblical reference --- but it's modern day role in earth conservation. Not it's own conservation, but the conservation of the acacia tree in southern Israel.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Acacia wood was used to compose the wooden articles of the desert Tabernacle of God. It was a wood native to northern Africa and in the desert regions that the Israelites passed through on their Exodus from Egypt.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">In the latter part of the 20th century Israeli conservationists began transplanting the acacia tree into the regions of the Negev. The temperature and climate and general conditions seemed ideal for this area. 1000's of trees were planted --- but the initial planting failed to thrive.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The problem was discovered. There is a symbiotic relationship between the Ibex and the acacia tree. Without the Ibex --- the acacia trees cannot grow healthily, thrive and reproduce in the Negev. This is God's scheme of things for these particular expressions of His creation.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">You see, in order for the acacia tree seeds to properly germinate they have to be eaten and partially digested by the Ibex. When the Ibex defecates many of the acacia seeds that it has ingested are expelled unharmed --- but not without being effected by the digestive enzymes in the animal's colon. The expelled seeds, in fact, are perfectly prepared to fall into the soil and take root for a strong and healthy acacia tree.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">If you want the beauty, the shade, the wood and all of the benefits of the acacia tree ---- you are going to have to include the Ibex in the plan. You can't have one without the other.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">In John 24:12 Jesus said that the only way that a grain of wheat could grow was for it to die and be placed in the ground. Before fruitfulness could come there had to be preparation --- a process. He was telling his disciples that he was going to have to die before God could empower his Plan to save mankind.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">He was also teaching His disciples that they, too, would have to endure difficult preparation, shaping, changing and growth before they could be fruitful, helpful, productive, or successful in their life's purpose.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I thought of this verse immediately when I learned about God's scheme for the Ibex and the acacia tree.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">This illustration is a little more base or crude than Jesus' metaphor --- but, forgive me --- there have been many times in my life when I feel that God has applied the Ibex scheme of things to me and my life. And I have not always understood it, appreciated it or accepted it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Proverbs 14:4 says, "Where no oxen are, the crib is clean: but much increase is by the strength of the ox." As Brother Dave Gardner would say, "Let me cut this up for you." You can make a very good living with a good strong Ox --- but don't expect the Ox crib to be clean and smell like roses!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I have expected a fruitful life and ministry --- one of "increase," growth and success --- but I have been unhappy because of the stink, the smell, the waste and refuse, the dirtiness and unpleasantness that is often required as a part of the process to those ends (pardon the pun!).</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I'm learning about the ways and workings of God as I walk farther down the road with Him. I'm re-learning to trust Him and give Him the benefit of the doubt. He has judged me in Christ and found me innocent (though guilty) ---- I'm trying to learn not to judge Him so quickly. He may just be applying the Ibex scheme of things to me and my life and my ministry.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Well, I think I made it through this lesson without being too vulgar or profane. By the way, in the King James Version of the Old Testament --- acacia wood is called shittim wood. I'm not kidding. Time to quit.</span><br />
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John D. Bainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17661031023211164094noreply@blogger.com0