Stories Of Hope & Inspiration

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History of I Have Decided to Follow Jesus.

About 150 years ago, there was a great revival in Wales. As a result of this, many missionaries came to north-east India to spread the Gospel. The region known as Assam was comprised of hundreds of tribes who were primitive and aggressive head-hunters

Into these hostile and aggressive communities, came a group of missionaries from the American Baptist Missions spreading the message of love, peace and hope in Jesus Christ. Naturally, they were not welcomed. One missionary succeeded in converting a man, his wife, and two children. This man’s faith proved contagious and many villagers began to accept Christianity.

Angry, the village chief summoned all the villagers. He then called the family who had first converted to renounce their faith in public or face execution. Moved by the Holy Spirit, the man instantly composed a song which became famous down the years. He sang:

“I have decided to follow Jesus. I have decided to follow Jesus. I have decided to follow Jesus. No turning back, no turning back.”

Enraged at the refusal of the man, the chief ordered his archers to arrow down the two children. As both boys lay twitching on the floor, the chief asked, “Will you deny your faith? You have lost both your children. You will lose your wife too.”

But the man sang these words in reply:

“Though no one joins me, still I will follow. Though no one joins me, still I will follow. Though no one joins me, still I will follow. No turning back, no turning back.”

 

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Be Thou My Vision, attributed to Dallán Forgaill, (6th century A.D.)

Most people have heard of St. Patrick, or at least celebrated his day’s namesake.

Fewer people, however, have heard of the blind Irish monk, Dallan Forgaill, author of “Be Thou My Vision.”

Forgaill was a 6th-century Irish monk who ministered in the wake of Patrick’s evangelization and church planting. He composed the song as he remembered St. Patrick’s missionary labors and the zeal that characterized his life.

For generations, the poem became part of the Irish monastic tradition, used as a prayer and chanted in the Old Irish language.

It wasn’t until 1905 that the song was translated by Mary Byrne, and it was 1912 before it was versified.

Today, the exalted words and Godward vision of the song are loved by believers just as they were hundreds of years ago by the Irish believers.

 

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What a friend we have in Jesus

In 1844 a young Irishman, Joseph Scriven, had completed his college education and returned home to marry his sweetheart. As he was traveling to meet her on the day before the planned wedding, he came upon a horrible scene—his beautiful fiancée tragically lying under the water in a creek bed after falling off her horse.

Later, Scriven moved to Canada and eventually fell in love again, only to experience devastation once more when she became ill and died just weeks before their marriage. For the second time, this humble Christian felt the loss of the woman he loved.

The following year, he wrote a poem to his mother in Ireland that described the deep friendship with Jesus he had cultivated in prayer through the hardships of his life.

The poem was published anonymously at first under the title, “Pray Without Ceasing.”

Ten years later, he finally acknowledged this well-loved text had been written by him and his friend, Jesus.

In 1868, attorney Charles Converse set the text to a tune and renamed it “What a Friend We Have in Jesus.”

 

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What a friend we have in Jesus

In 1844 a young Irishman, Joseph Scriven, had completed his college education and returned home to marry his sweetheart. As he was traveling to meet her on the day before the planned wedding, he came upon a horrible scene—his beautiful fiancée tragically lying under the water in a creek bed after falling off her horse.

Later, Scriven moved to Canada and eventually fell in love again, only to experience devastation once more when she became ill and died just weeks before their marriage. For the second time, this humble Christian felt the loss of the woman he loved.

The following year, he wrote a poem to his mother in Ireland that described the deep friendship with Jesus he had cultivated in prayer through the hardships of his life.

The poem was published anonymously at first under the title, “Pray Without Ceasing.”

Ten years later, he finally acknowledged this well-loved text had been written by him and his friend, Jesus.

In 1868, attorney Charles Converse set the text to a tune and renamed it “What a Friend We Have in Jesus.”

 

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https://twitter.com/i/web/status/1330971390170710016

 

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Hymn: Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing

Robert Robinson was what you would call an “unruly child.”

At only eight years old his father died, and he was raised by his loving mother.

In spite of Robert’s intellectual giftedness, he had a penchant for mischief.

Robert’s mother sent him off for an apprenticeship when he was only 14, but once he got out of the home his life got worse.

Instead of working and learning, Robert chose drinking, gambling, and carousing with the wrong crowd.

Caught up in his reckless life, Robert and his friends decided to go to an evangelist meeting one night just to heckle the preacher, George Whitfield.

Sitting in that meeting, however, Robert felt as if the preacher’s words were meant for him alone. He couldn’t shake the feeling that God wanted him to surrender his life and serve him.

When he was twenty, Robinson surrendered gave his life to the Lord of all and entered the Christian ministry.

At the age of 22, he wrote the song “Come Thou Fount,” for his church’s Pentecost celebration. It was written as his own spiritual story — a story of pursuing pleasure and joy, and only experiencing it when “Jesus sought me.”

Millions of believers can relate to Robinson’s testimony — “Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it,” and the glorious testimony, “O to grace how great a debtor daily I’m constrained to be!”

 

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Hymn: Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing

Robert Robinson was what you would call an “unruly child.”

At only eight years old his father died, and he was raised by his loving mother.

In spite of Robert’s intellectual giftedness, he had a penchant for mischief.

Robert’s mother sent him off for an apprenticeship when he was only 14, but once he got out of the home his life got worse.

Instead of working and learning, Robert chose drinking, gambling, and carousing with the wrong crowd.

Caught up in his reckless life, Robert and his friends decided to go to an evangelist meeting one night just to heckle the preacher, George Whitfield.

Sitting in that meeting, however, Robert felt as if the preacher’s words were meant for him alone. He couldn’t shake the feeling that God wanted him to surrender his life and serve him.

When he was twenty, Robinson surrendered his life to the Lord of all and entered the Christian ministry.

At the age of 22, he wrote the song “Come Thou Fount,” for his church’s Pentecost celebration. It was written as his own spiritual story — a story of pursuing pleasure and joy, and only experiencing it when “Jesus sought me.”

Millions of believers can relate to Robinson’s testimony — “Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it,” and the glorious testimony, “O to grace how great a debtor daily I’m constrained to be!”

 

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Three Butterflies

My story took place shortly after losing both my parents and I was suffering from a frozen shoulder. It was so painful I wanted to die and I was so depressed because I couldn't call my mom for comfort. All I could do as I waited for my doctor's appointment to come in a few days was to curl up on my bed in the fetal position and cry.

It was dark in the room because I wasn't even able to reach over to turn on the lamp. I thought I was hallucinating from the pain when I saw a glow on the ceiling. I closed my eyes tightly thinking it would go away when I opened my eyes. As I peeked out I saw three beautifully glowing butterflies. Two were fluttering back and forth with each other as if arguing.

Then one moved away from the other and moved near the little one as they fluttered so brilliantly with blue and gold colors. I couldn't believe my eyes and thought it was the pain that was causing me to see things, so I turned over to face away from them.

In a few minutes, I heard a whisper in my ear saying, "Don't cry. You're going to be alright. Keep praying for the strength to get through this. I love you, my sweet daughter." I jumped up and cried out "What, who are you?" But they were gone. The pain had left me momentarily as I sat on the side of the bed crying because it hit me who the butterflies were. The two larger ones were my mom and dad and the smaller one was my oldest brother who had drowned when he was just seven. To this day I'm not sure if that really happened but it inspired me to write a poem called "Pain's Inspiration", dedicated to my dearly beloved brother, mother and father (the 3 butterflies). Jessica, Black Canyon City, AZ
My story took place shortly after losing both my parents and I was suffering from a frozen shoulder. It was so painful I wanted to die and I was so depressed because I couldn't call my mom for comfort. All I could do as I waited for my doctor's appointment to come in a few days was to curl up on my bed in the fetal position and cry.

That's when I had my butterfly experience.

It was dark in the room because I wasn't even able to reach over to turn on the lamp. I thought I was hallucinating from the pain when I saw a glow on the ceiling. I closed my eyes tightly thinking it would go away when I opened my eyes. As I peeked out I saw three beautifully glowing butterflies. Two were fluttering back and forth with each other as if arguing. Then one moved away from the other and moved near the little one as they fluttered so brilliantly with blue and gold colors. I couldn't believe my eyes and thought it was the pain that was causing me to see things, so I turned over to face away from them. In a few minutes, I heard a whisper in my ear saying, "Don't cry. You're going to be alright. Keep praying for the strength to get through this. I love you, my sweet daughter." I jumped up and cried out "What, who are you?" But they were gone. The pain had left me momentarily as I sat on the side of the bed crying because it hit me who the butterflies were. The two larger ones were my mom and dad and the smaller one was my oldest brother who had drowned when he was just seven. To this day I'm not sure if that really happened but it inspired me to write a poem called "Pain's Inspiration". -Jessica Dumas

Dedicated to my dearly beloved brother, mother and father (the 3 butterflies).

 

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An Abandoned Baby

Rodger Prater, who works at Abba's House of Worship Center in Ada, Oklahoma, had a van full of kids when he made the discovery. He and his wife, Nancy, were taking the kids back to church after an outing to an amusement park.

They were cruising down a rural, wooded stretch of I-40 when he spotted a car seat on the side of the road.

"I couldn't fathom it at first," he says. "Then the little boy's feet moved. I told my wife under my breath, ‘I think I see a baby.'"

Rodger pulled over, and his worry only grew when he didn’t see any movement from the baby boy. The car seat was about 10 feet away from the white line on the shoulder of the busy, two-lane highway.

"His eyes were shut," he says. "I was freaking out. I thought, ‘Don't let there be anything wrong with him.'"

But as soon as Rodger picked up the car seat by the handle, the little boy’s eyes popped open. Rodger rushed to the van, cranking the air conditioning to help cool him down. Nancy held him while he dialed 911.

The 1-month-old boy didn’t show any signs of distress when Rodger found him. Police arrived and estimated the car seat had been sitting on the side of the road for about a half an hour.

"He was just a little fella," Rodger recalls. "Thank God we got there in time."

Emergency personnel took the infant straight to the hospital. Sgt. Gary Knight of the Oklahoma City Police Department confirmed the little boy is just fine. In his car seat, police found a birth certificate, a social security card, and $5,500 in cash.

Of course, the situation could have easily become much more dire had more time passed. But thankfully, the youth pastor found this sweet boy — a miracle he credits to our Heavenly Father.

"All I know is that God intervened," he said. "One day when the baby is old enough to understand, he can call me and I will tell him that it was no fluke that we found him.

We found him for a reason. I will tell him that God has a plan for his life.

 

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How to change the world

The ninth week of SEAL training is referred to as Hell Week. It is six days of no sleep, constant physical and mental harassment and one special day at the Mud Flats.

The Mud Flats are an area between San Diego and Tijuana where the water runs off and creates the Tijuana slues—a swampy patch of terrain where the mud will engulf you.

It is on Wednesday of Hell Week that you paddle down to the mud flats and spend the next 15 hours trying to survive the freezing-cold mud, the howling wind and the incessant pressure from the instructors to quit.

As the sun began to set that Wednesday evening, my training class, having committed some “egregious infraction of the rules” was ordered into the mud. The mud consumed each man till there was nothing visible but our heads.

The instructors told us we could leave the mud if only five men would quit—just five men and we could get out of the oppressive cold.

Looking around the mud flat, it was apparent that some students were about to give up. It was still over eight hours till the sun came up—eight more hours of bone-chilling cold.

The chattering teeth and shivering moans of the trainees were so loud it was hard to hear anything. And then, one voice began to echo through the night—one voice raised in song.

The song was terribly out of tune, but sung with great enthusiasm.

One voice became two, and two became three, and before long everyone in the class was singing. We knew that if one man could rise above the misery then others could as well.

The instructors threatened us with more time in the mud if we kept up the singing—but the singing persisted. And somehow, the mud seemed a little warmer, the wind a little tamer and the dawn not so far away.

If I have learned anything in my time traveling the world, it is the power of hope.

The power of one person—Washington, Lincoln, King, Mandela and even a young girl from Pakistan named Malala—can change the world by giving people hope.

So, if you want to change the world, start singing when you’re up to your neck in mud.

-The commencement address by Admiral William H. McRaven, ninth commander of U.S. Special Operations Command, at the University of Texas at Austin on 17 May 2014

 

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The Story of the Bamboo

Like any plant, growth of the Chinese Bamboo tree requires nurturing – water, fertile soil, sunshine. In its first year, we see no visible signs of activity. In the second year, again, no growth above the soil. The third, the fourth, still nothing.

Our patience is tested and we begin to wonder if our efforts (caring, watering, etc.) will ever be rewarded.

Finally in the fifth year – behold, a miracle! We experience growth – and what growth it is – 80 feet in just six weeks!

The bamboo is an analogy to our own experience with personal growth and change. Never easy, slow to show any progress, frustrating and unrewarding at times, but worth it, if we can be patient and persistent. This is the critical variable in attaining new skills – in developing ourselves.

It is our ability to stay persistent even when we are unable to see any growth on the surface.

Can we stay focused and continue to believe in what we are doing even when we don’t see immediate results?

In a culture driven by instant gratification – this is our biggest challenge. The change may be slow – even invisible at times – but suddenly, as in the case of the bamboo, a glorious surprise.

Keep your faith in this important work. And as Calvin Coolidge has said, “Press on: nothing in the world can take the place of perseverance. Talent will not; nothing is more common than unsuccessful men with talent. Genius will not; un-rewarded genius is almost a proverb. Education will not; the world is full of educated derelicts.

Persistence and determination alone are omnipotent.

 

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Three Feet From Gold

During the gold rush, a man who had been mining in Colorado for several months quit his job, as he hadn’t struck gold yet and the work was becoming tiresome.

He sold his equipment to another man who resumed mining where it had been left off. The new miner was advised by his engineer that there was gold only three feet away from where the first miner stopped digging.

The engineer was right, which means the first miner was a mere three feet away from striking gold before he quit.

The Moral:

When things start to get hard, try to persevere through the adversity. Many people give up on following their dreams because the work becomes too difficult, tedious, or tiresome–but often, you’re closer to the finish line than you may think, and if you push just a little harder, you will succeed.

 

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EPOH

As I ate breakfast one morning, I overheard two oncologists conversing. One complained bitterly, “You know, Bob, I just don’t understand it. We used the same drugs, the same dosage, the same schedule and the same entry criteria. Yet I got a 22 percent response rate and you got a 74 percent. That’s unheard of for metastatic cancer. How do you do it?”

His colleague replied, “We’re both using Etoposide, Platinum, Oncovin and Hydroxyurea. You call yours EPOH. I tell my patients I’m giving them HOPE. As dismal as the statistics are, I emphasize that we have a chance.”

~William M. Buchholz, M.D.

 

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Some time ago, an old mule fell into an abandoned well which was no longer in use.

The farmer who owned him tried and tried to pull the mule up out of the well -- however, after many attempts, he realized he was not going to be able to rescue his mule. So the farmer decided to solve two problems simultaneously--- by burying the mule in the well. Tragic as it was, he would bury the mule alive, and in the process, prevent future accidents of this kind by filling up the well hole.

Taking a shovel, the man began to toss shovel fulls of dirt on the animal to bury him. However, following every toss of soil, the stubborn mule simply shook the dirt clean off his back. This caused the floor beneath him to steadily rise. The relentless farmer continued to shovel, while the stubborn mule persisted in shaking off the annoying dirt. This mutual perseverance eventually raised the mule up to ground level, where he could happily walk out of his impossible predicament...free at last.

We all have, somehow or other, fallen into a hole a time or two. Some of us give up after a few attempts to escape, resigning to a state of imprisonment in our predicament -- but this is not God's intent for our lives. His will is for us to persevere -- become stubborn like a mule -- fight, kick, and continually toss the dirt off our backs -- until we get out of the hole!

 

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Sometimes your biggest weakness can become your biggest strength.

A 10-year-old boy decided to study judo despite the fact that he had lost his left arm in a devastating car accident.

The boy began lessons with an old Japanese judo master. The boy was doing well, so he couldn’t understand why, after three months of training the master had taught him only one move.

“Sensei,” the boy finally said, “Shouldn’t I be learning more moves?”

“This is the only move you know, but this is the only move you’ll ever need to know,” the sensei replied.

Not quite understanding, but believing in his teacher, the boy kept training.

Several months later, the sensei took the boy to his first tournament. Surprising himself, the boy easily won his first two matches. The third match proved to be more difficult, but after some time, his opponent became impatient and charged; the boy deftly used his one move to win the match. Still amazed by his success, the boy was now in the finals.

This time, his opponent was bigger, stronger, and more experienced. For a while, the boy appeared to be overmatched. Concerned that the boy might get hurt, the referee called a time-out. He was about to stop the match when the sensei intervened.

“No,” the sensei insisted, “Let him continue.”

Soon after the match resumed, his opponent made a critical mistake: he dropped his guard. Instantly, the boy used his move to pin him. The boy had won the match and the tournament. He was the champion.

On the way home, the boy and sensei reviewed every move in each and every match. Then the boy summoned the courage to ask what was really on his mind.

“Sensei, how did I win the tournament with only one move?”

“You won for two reasons,” the sensei answered. “First, you’ve almost mastered one of the most difficult throws in all of judo. And second, the only known defense for that move is for your opponent to grab your left arm.”

The boy’s biggest weakness had become his biggest strength.

 

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Real estate developers

They buy a piece of property that is terribly run down, seemingly useless, without much value to the naked eye and reform it completely, from the inside out.

With great skill and vision, they know what to keep, what to get rid of, what part of the property needs renovation, refurbishing, or complete rebuilding.

So it is with God and us. He knows everything that comprises our life from the moment of conception; our gifts, abilities, strengths, weaknesses, wounds, and all the characteristics of our personalities.

He wants to completely renovate us according to the vision He has for our lives, which is much greater than we can imagine. He has purchased the "property" of our lives and is powerfully and skillfully at work developing the Lord's "real estate".

 

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Hitting Unseen Target

The yogi Raman was a true master of the art of archery. One morning, he invited his favorite disciple to watch a display of his skill. The disciple had seen this more than a hundred times before, but he nevertheless obeyed his teacher.

They went into the wood beside the monastery and when they reached a magnificent oak tree, Raman took a flower which he had tucked in his collar and placed it on one of the branches.

He then opened his bag and took out three objects: his splendid bow made of precious wood, an arrow and a white handkerchief embroidered with lilacs.

The yogi positioned himself one hundred paces from the spot where he had placed the flower. Facing his target, he asked his disciple to blindfold him with the embroidered handkerchief.

The disciple did as his teacher requested.

‘How often have you seen me practice the noble and ancient sport of archery?’ Raman asked him.

‘Every day,’ replied his disciple. ‘And you have always managed to hit the rose from three hundred paces away.’

With his eyes covered by the handkerchief, the yogi Raman placed his feet firmly on the ground, drew back the bowstring with all his might – aiming at the rose placed on one of the branches of the oak tree – and then released the arrow.

The arrow whistled through the air, but it did not even hit the tree, missing the target by an embarrassingly wide margin.

‘Did I hit it?’ said Raman, removing the handkerchief from his eyes.

‘No, you missed completely,’ replied the disciple. ‘I thought you were going to demonstrate to me the power of thought and your ability to perform magic.’

‘I have just taught you the most important lesson about the power of thought,’ replied Raman. ‘When you want something, concentrate only on that: no one will ever hit a target they cannot see.’

(Excerpted from: Paulo Cuelho, “Stories for Children, Parents, and Grandparents (Vol I)

 

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George Washington

During the French and Indian War in 1755, a valiant young officer by the name of George Washington rode onto the battlefield at Monogahela with the Virginia militia, along with 85 other officers.

Of those who were on horseback, he was THE ONLY ONE to survive. It was only after he returned to Fort Cumberland and reported to Gen. Braddock that he realized that there were 4 bulletholes in his coat, one in his hat, and bullet fragments in his hair!

Later, he wrote to his brother John, saying,

"But, by the all-powerful dispensations of Providence, I have been protected beyond all human probability or expectation; for I had four bullets through my coat, and two horses shot under me, yet escaped unhurt, although death was leveling my companions on every side of me!"

Some years later, a well-respected Indian Chief came to meet with Washington. While in his company, these are the words that he was reported to have said.

"I am a chief and ruler over my tribes. My influence extends to the waters of the great lakes and to the far blue mountains. I have traveled a long and weary path that I might see the young warrior of the great battle. It was on the day when the white man's blood mixed with the streams of our forest that I first beheld this chief [Washington]. I called to my young men and said, mark yon tall and daring warrior? He is not of the red-coat tribe--he hath an Indian's wisdom, and his warriors fight as we do--himself is alone exposed.

Quick, let your aim be certain, and he dies. Our rifles were leveled, rifles which, but for you, knew not how to miss--'twas all in vain, a power mightier far than we, shielded you. Seeing you were under the special guardship of the Great Spirit, we immediately ceased to fire at you. I am old and soon shall be gathered to the great council fire of my fathers in the land of shades, but ere I go, there is something bids me speak in the voice of prophecy.

Listen! The Great Spirit protects that man [pointing at Washington], and guides his destinies--he will become the chief of nations, and a people yet unborn will hail him as the founder of a mighty empire. I am come to pay homage to the man who is the particular favorite of Heaven, and who can never die in battle."

 

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Dear Lord,

Today I thought of the words of Vincent van Gogh: “It is true there is an ebb and flow, but the sea remains the sea.”

You are the sea. Although I experience many ups and downs in my emotions and often feel great shifts and changes in my inner life, you remain the same.

Your sameness is not the sameness of a rock, but the sameness of a faithful lover. Out of your love I came to life, by your love I am sustained, and to your love I am always called back.

There are days of sadness and days of joy; there are feelings of guilt and feelings of gratitude; there are moments of failure and moments of success; but all of them are embraced by your unwavering love. . . .

O Lord, sea of love and goodness, let me not fear too much the storms and winds of my daily life, and let me know there is ebb and flow but the sea remains the sea. Amen. -Henry Nouwen