146 Sermon Illustrations on Sacrifice

Debate between Christians and Jews over whether Jesus is actually the Messiah. Summary of Christian argument (full outline below):

1. Blood atonement is necessary and only Jesus can fulfill it.

2. The genealogy of Jesus.

3. The fulfillment of Messianic prophecies.

Jewish participants:

Rabbi Steven Baer

Mickey Miller (anti-missionary society)

Christian participants:

Dr. Mike Brown (Stony Brook)

Dan Juster (Messianic congregation president)

[debate is summarized and categorized]

CAN JESUS BE THE MESSIAH?

I. The necessity of blood atonement.

A. In the OT, blood was required for atonement.

1) Even willful sin had a sacrifice (asham - guilt offering).

a) But blood not enough for "asham" - restitution required

an extra (20%?) amount.

2) Scapegoat.

a) But scapegoat sent out live, and not killed.

3) Passover, lamb's blood on door. Exod 12

a) But not considered a sacrifice of atonement.

4) Sacrifice even when Torah given. Exod 24:8

5) But all sacrifices must be on altar. Lev 17

a) Jesus wasn't sacrificed on an altar.

b) But blood sacrifice went beyond the altar.

1> Rabbis saw Abraham's circumcision as a sacrifice.

2> God passed between animal pieces, pledging his

life. Gen 15:9,10,17

A> But this is not referred to as a sacrifice.

B. Principle of blood sacrifice is substitution.

1) Rabbis - when God looks at blood of animals, He sees blood of

Isaac.

2) Priest Phineas brought atonement by spearing 2 people. Num 25

3) If ox kills man, its life must be taken. Exod 21:30

a) Forgiveness of sins not in view, but substitution.

4) Rabbi Rashi - life atones for life. Must be substitution.

5) The Messiah must be our "asham" (guilt offering) for sin.

a) But Resurrection disqualifies ransom motif of atonement.

b) But why does Ezekiel reinstitute blood sacrifice, if Jesus

fulfilled it? Ezek 43:23-27; 46:2

C. Atonement by other (non-blood) means?

1) Prayer or charity (instituted after fall of Temple).

Prov 16:6, Hos 6:6 (mercy), Hos 14 (prayer), Ps 78 (weak-

ness), Ps 8,10 (seekers), Isa 27 (destroy idolaters)

a) If no atonement without blood, then generation of 70 year

Exile not saved.

b) Blood not needed. Only prayer. 2 Chron 7:14

1> But Temple is described as "house of sacrifice" in

previous verses. 2 Chron 7:12

2) Prophets extolled obedience to God. 1 Sam 15:22

a) But they did not reject sacrifice.

b) Hosea told Northern Israel that prayer and repentance

were sufficient.

3) Flour offering instead of goat. Lev 5:10

a) But flour had to be mixed with blood on altar.

1> But flour alone was sufficient for worshipper.

4) Censor used in worship brought atonement. Num 16:47

a) But censor also mixed with blood.

5) Nathan forgave David without sacrifice.

a) But in Psalm 51 David offers a sacrifice.

6) No atonement for murder.

a) But King David committed murder and was forgiven.

b) Psalm 51 refers to his sacrifice.

7) David and census. Atonement - lose your kingdom.

a) But David concluded with a sacrifice.

8) Miriam healed.

9) Abimelech atoned by Abraham's prayer after potential sin with

Sarah.

10) Samuel and Saul.

11) Ezra - no blood or other action required, except to get rid

of foreign wives.

D. Contradictions in NT view of sacrifice.

1) Hebrews says sacrifices don't atone for sin. Did they in OT?

2) Judaism teaches no sacrifice for future sin, only past sin.

3) Humans aren't valid as sacrifices.

a) Sacrifice had to be partially eaten by the worshippers.

b) The blood had to be smeared.

c) Animal had to be 3 years old.

d) Animal had to be female.

e) Animal had to be clean. (Jesus was dirty?)

f) Humans are never sacrificed for atonement.

II. Genealogy of Jesus.

A. Genealogy cannot be adopted.

1) Jesus' genealogy is through Joseph, but Joseph wasn't his

real father.

a) Adoption is valid for genealogy.

b) But texts say it is not.

2) If at least one of the genealogies is actually Mary's line,

women cannot pass on inheritance of kingship.

a) If they could, then Athaliah would have had her son take

throne.

b) Athaliah killed the male heirs, but not the female.

c) But in special case in OT, widowed women passed on land

rights. Num ??

d) And note that the first messianic prophecy (Gen 3:15)

speaks of the woman's seed defeating Satan, not Adam's.

1> But doesn't apply for this argument. (Jewish)

B. Kingly line must be through David by way of Solomon.

1) Luke traces descent through Nathan, David's brother rather

than son. Therefore, Jesus is not of kingly line.

2) Promises descend through only one male line.

a) Abraham's promise only goes through Isaac.

b) Aaron's promise only goes through Phineas.

c) David's promise only goes through Solomon.

C. The curse of Jeconiah [Jehoiachin] (no descendant would be on

throne).

1) Matthew has Jeconiah in genealogy.

2) But Jeconiah's descendants had a legal right to rule.

a) Curse may apply only to immediate family. (Jer 22:30)

b) Promise was renewed for Zerubbabel.

1> But Zerubbabel didn't become king. Curse still valid?

2> Yet Zerubbabel is extolled on Hanukkah.

A> The Davidic covenant was renewed for him.

3) Biblical authors didn't deal with curse, but rabbis did.

a) Other heirs besides son could be king.

(Jeconiah's uncle followed him.)

4) And if Messiah must come through kingly line, and Jeconiah

is cursed, then Messiah must have non-human descent.

a) If curse is on father's line, then Jesus avoided this.

b) Testimony of genetics: males have mixed chromosomes

(x & y). Jesus' male chromosome must come from God.

III. The fulfillment of Messianic promises and prophecies.

A. Messiah brings worldwide peace. Hasn't happened yet.

1) Even Second Coming won't fulfill it.

2) But first he is a "light to the Gentiles," which Jesus is.

a) But "Gentiles" really means "nations."

B. Holistic reading of Bible fits Jesus.

1) Supernatural vs. suffering Messiah.

2) Rabbinic problem of 2 (3?) Messiahs: ben Joseph, ben David.

C. Messiah called names that don't fit humans.

1) "Mighty God." Child identified with God. Isa 9:6

a) But all throne names contained God's name.

1> The altar was even called "God of Israel."

b) Yet they didn't refer to person directly as God.

1> Compare Psalm 45: "Your throne, O God, is forever."

2) King David's lord. Psalm 110

a) Messiah greater than greatest human king.

b) (not necessarily divine, since "lord" can mean "sir")

D. Isaiah 42.

1) Messiah cuts a covenant for the people.

2) But kings don't represent covenant of sacrifice, high priests

did.

E. Isaiah 53.

1) Israel considered Messiah stricken for his own sins.

2) Corporate solidarity for Israel.

3) Death, burial fits Jesus.

a) Rabbis - the leper Messiah.

F. Problems with interpreting prophecies.

1) Scholars disagree on application.

a) Mowinkel (not a Jew) thought Isa 9:6 was not messianic.

b) "Suffering servant" doesn't have to be Messiah.

IV. Argument from experience.

A. Jesus continues to heal people.

#1546

*

The role of sacrifice in the Old Testament:

HOLY CLEAN UNCLEAN

profane ----> pollute ---->

----> SIN and INFIRMITY ---->

According to Leviticus, sacrificial blood is necessary to cleanse and sanctify. Sacrifice can undo the effects of sin and human infirmity. Sin and disease lead to profanation of the holy and pollution of the clean. Sacrifice can reverse the process.

The ritual for lepers is a recapitulation of the process by which Israel had been made holy. Sprinkling blood with a hyssop branch recalls the passover ritual and also the ordination of Aaron and the ratification of the Sinai Covenant. At Sinai the whole nation had become holy. If later, as the result of sin, an individual member of Israel became unclean, he had to reenact the processes of sanctification. He had to be born again into the community by blood and water (cf. John 3).

In a Japanese seashore village over a hundred years ago, an earthquake startled the villagers one autumn evening. But, being accustomed to earthquakes, they soon went back to their activities. Above the village on a high plain, an old farmer was watching from his house. He looked at the sea, and the water appeared dark and acted strangely, moving against the wind, running away from the land. The old man knew what it meant. His one thought was to warn the people in the village.

He called to his grandson, “Bring me a torch! Make haste!” In the fields behind him lay his great crop of rice. Piled in stacks ready for the market, it was worth a fortune. The old man hurried out with his torch. In a moment the dry stalks were blazing. Then the big bell pealed from the temple below: Fire!

Back from the beach, away from that strange sea, up the steep side of the cliff, came the people of the village. They were coming to try to save the crops of their rich neighbor. “He’s mad!” they said.

As they reached the plain, the old man shouted back at the top of his voice, “Look!” at the edge of the horizon they saw a long, lean, dim line - a line that thickened as they gazed. That line was the sea, rising like a high wall and coming more swiftly than a kite flies. Then came a shock, heavier than thunder. The great swell struck the shore with a weight that sent a shudder through the hills and tore their homes to matchsticks. It drew back, roaring. Then is struck again, and again, and yet again. Once more it struck and ebbed; then it returned to its place.

On the plain no word was spoken. Then the voice of the old man was heard, saying gently, “That is why I set the fire to the rice.” He stood among them almost as poor as the poorest, for his wealth was gone - but he had saved 400 lives by the sacrifice.

=====================

Another version:

Madame Chiang Kai-shek told of the heroic deed of a Chinese farmer during an earthquake. From his hillside farm he felt the quake, and saw the water from the distant ocean swiftly pull away from the shoreline. He knew that a tidal wave was imminent. In the valleys below, he saw his neighbors working in low fields that would be flooded. The farmer knew he must find a way to gather them quickly to his hilltop.

His rice barns were dry enough to burn quickly, so he took a torch and set them on fire. Then he rang the fire gong that hung nearby. His neighbors saw the smoke and heard the alarm, then rushed to help him. From the satety of the hill, they saw the waters rush over the fields they had just left. They knew at once that the farmer had saved their lives, and it had cost him dearly. They erected a monument to him, bearing this motto: “He gave us all he had, and gave it gladly.”

Jesus Christ gave Himself for us, and did it gladly so that we might be reconciled to God and receive eternal life. How can people turn their backs on a love like that?

- Open Windows

Ten Biblical images of the tithe:

1. Gratitude. Gen 14:20 and 28:22

2. Covenant. Deut 14:22-29; 26:1-15

3. Sacrifice. 2 Sam 24:24

4. Worship. Lev 27:30

5. Percentage giving. 1 Cor 16:2

6. A guideline. 2 Cor 9:8-15

7. Weightier matters. Matt 23:23

8. God's ownership. Mal 3:8

9. Disciplinarian. Gal 3:24

10. A gift of joy. 2 Cor 9:7

In summary, if the Old Testament law required at least a tithe, it is

inconceivable that Christians would want to do less. That is why we see the

tithe as the minimal New Testament standard for Christian giving.

#2983

*

At the foot of the cross we shrink to true size.

Francis Asbury is considered the father of American Methodism. Near the end of his notable life he said:

I was converted at the age of sixteen. At the age of 18 I began to preach. At twenty-six I left my native land, bid farewell to my weeping parents, and crossed a boisterous ocean to spend the rest of my days in a strange land. In thirty years I have crossed the Allegheny Mountains 58 times. I have slept in the woods and been without food and covering. Through the Southern states I have waded swamps and led my horse for miles. As a result of these journeys I took cold that brought on the diseases that now prey on my body and must soon end in death. But I still have the same belief, that through the merits of Christ and by the grace of God I am saved.

C.S. Lewis put it well when he said, "I'm afraid biblical charity is more than merely giving away that which we could afford to do without anyway."*

I'll never forget Easter 1946. I was 14, my little sister Ocy 12, and my older sister Darlene 16. We lived at home with our mother, and the four of us knew what it was to do without many things.

My dad had died five years before, leaving Mom with seven school kids to raise and no money. By 1946 my older sisters were married, and my brothers had left home.

A month before Easter, the pastor of our church announced that a special Easter offering would be taken to help a poor family. He asked everyone to save and give sacrificially.

When we got home, we talked about what we could do. We decided to buy 50 pounds of potatoes and live on them for a month. This would allow us to save $20 of our grocery money for the offering.

Then we thought that if we kept our electric lights turned out as much as possible and didn't listen to the radio, we'd save money on that month's electric bill. Darlene got as many house- and yard-cleaning jobs as possible, and both of us baby-sat for everyone we could. For 15 cents, we could buy enough cotton loops to make three pot holders to sell for $1. We made $20 on pot holders.

That month was one of the best of our lives. Every day we counted the money to see how much we had saved. At night we'd sit in the dark and talk about how the poor family was going to enjoy having the money the church would give them. We had about 80 people in church, so we figured that whatever amount of money we had to give, the offering would surely be 20 times that much. After all, every Sunday the pastor had reminded everyone to save for the sacrificial offering.

The day before Easter, Ocy and I walked to the grocery store and got the manager to give us three crisp $20 bills and one $10 bill for all our change. We ran all the way home to show Mom and Darlene. We had never had so much money before.

That night we were so excited we could hardly sleep. We didn't care that we wouldn't have new clothes for Easter; we had $70 for the sacrificial offering. We could hardly wait to get to church!

On Sunday morning, rain was pouring down. We didn't own an umbrella, and the church was over a mile from our home, but it didn't seem to matter how wet we got. Darlene had cardboard in her shoes to fill the holes. The cardboard came apart, and her feet got wet. But we sat in church proudly. I heard some teenagers talking about the Smith girls having on their old dresses. I looked at them in their new clothes, and I felt so rich.

When the sacrificial offering was taken, we were sitting in the second row from the front. Mom put in the $10 bill, and each of us girls put in a $20. As we walked home after church, we sang all the way. At lunch Mom had a surprise for us. She had bought a dozen eggs, and we had boiled Easter eggs with our fried potatoes!

Late that afternoon the minister drove up in his car. Mom went to the door, talked with him for a moment, and then came back with an envelope in her hand. We asked what it was, but she didn't say a word. She opened the envelope, and out fell a bunch of money. There were three crisp $20 bills, one $10, and seventeen $1 bills.

Mom put the money back in the envelope. We didn't talk, we just sat and stared at the floor. We'd gone from feeling like millionaires to feeling like poor white trash.

We kids had had such a happy life that we felt sorry for anyone who didn't have parents like ours and a house full of brothers and sisters and other kids visiting constantly. We thought it was fun to share silverware and see whether we got the fork or the spoon that night. We had two knives, which we passed around to whoever needed them.

I knew we didn't have a lot of things that other people had, but I'd never thought we were poor. That Easter Day I found out we were. The minister had brought us the money for the poor family, so we must be poor.

I didn't like being poor. I looked at my dress and worn-out shoes and felt so ashamed that I didn't want to go back to church. Everyone there probably already knew we were poor! I thought about school. I was in the ninth grade and at the top of my class of over 100 students. I wondered if the kids at school knew we were poor. I decided I could quit school since I had finished the eighth grade. That was all the law required at that time.

We sat in silence for a long time. Then it got dark, and we went to bed. All that week, we girls went to school and came home, and no one talked much. Finally on Saturday, Mom asked us what we wanted to do with the money. What did poor people do with money? We didn't know. We'd never known we were poor.

We didn't want to go to church on Sunday, but Mom said we had to. Although it was a sunny day, we didn't talk on the way. Mom started to sing, but no one joined in, and she only sang one verse.

At church we had a missionary speaker. He talked about how churches in Africa made buildings out of sun-dried bricks, but they needed money to buy roofs. He said $100 would put a roof on a church. The minister said, "Can't we all sacrifice to help these poor people?"

We looked at each other and smiled for the first time in a week. Mom reached into her purse and pulled out the envelope. She passed it to Darlene, Darlene gave it to me, and I handed it to Ocy, Ocy put it in the offering.

When the offering was counted, the minister announced that it was a little over $100. The missionary was excited. He hadn't expected such a large offering from our small church. He said, "You must have some rich people in this church."

Suddenly it struck us! We had given $87 of that "little over $100." We were the rich family in the church! Hadn't the missionary said so?

-------------------------

EDDIE OGAN lives in Washington with her husband, Phil. They have one son by birth and 11 children by adoption. This article was taken from a letter she wrote to encourage some missionaries.

___________________________________________________________________________

[version in sermon, changed to third person]

Eddie Smith will never forget Easter 1946. She was 14, her little sister Ocy 12, and her older sister Darlene 16. They lived at home with their mother, and the four of them knew what it was to do without many things. Her dad had died five years before, leaving Mom with seven school kids to raise and no money. By 1946 her older sisters were married, and her brothers had left home.

A month before Easter, the pastor of their church announced that a special Easter offering would be taken to help a poor family. He asked everyone to save and give sacrificially.

When they got home, they talked about what they could do. They decided to buy 50 pounds of potatoes and live on them for a month. This would allow them to save $20 of their grocery money for the offering.

Then they thought that if they kept their electric lights turned out as much as possible and didn't listen to the radio, they'd save money on that month's electric bill. Darlene got as many house- and yard-cleaning jobs as possible, and she and Eddie baby-sat for everyone they could. For 15 cents, they could buy enough cotton loops to make three pot holders to sell for $1. They made $20 on pot holders.

That month was one of the best of their lives. Every day they counted the money to see how much they had saved. At night they'd sit in the dark and talk about how the poor family was going to enjoy having the money the church would give them. Their church had around 80 people, so they figured that whatever amount of money they had to give, the offering would surely be 20 times that much. After all, every Sunday the pastor had reminded everyone to save for the sacrificial offering.

The day before Easter, Ocy and Eddie walked to the grocery store and got the manager to give them three crisp $20 bills and one $10 bill for all their change. They ran all the way home to show Mom and Darlene. They had never had so much money before.

That night they were so excited they could hardly sleep. They didn't care that they wouldn't have new clothes for Easter; they had $70 for the sacrificial offering. They could hardly wait to get to church!

On Sunday morning, rain was pouring down. They didn't own an umbrella, and the church was over a mile from their home, but it didn't seem to matter how wet they got. Darlene had cardboard in her shoes to fill the holes. The cardboard came apart, and her feet got wet. But they sat in church proudly. Eddie heard some teenagers talking about the Smith girls having on their old dresses. Eddie looked at them in their new clothes, and Eddie felt so rich.

When the sacrificial offering was taken, they were sitting in the second row from the front. Mom put in the $10 bill, and each of the girls put in a $20. As they walked home after church, they sang all the way. At lunch Mom had a surprise for them. She had bought a dozen eggs, and they had boiled Easter eggs with their fried potatoes!

Late that afternoon the minister drove up in his car. Mom went to the door, talked with him for a moment, and then came back with an envelope in her hand. They asked what it was, but she didn't say a word. She opened the envelope, and out fell a bunch of money. There were three crisp $20 bills, one $10, and seventeen $1 bills.

Mom put the money back in the envelope. They didn't talk, they just sat and stared at the floor. They'd gone from feeling like millionaires to feeling like poor white trash.

The Smith kids had had such a happy life that they felt sorry for anyone who didn't have parents like theirs. They thought it was fun to share silverware and see whether they got the fork or the spoon that night. They had two knives, which they passed around to whoever needed them.

Eddie knew they didn't have a lot of things that other people had, but she'd never thought they were poor. That Easter Day Eddie found out they were. The minister had brought them the money for the poor family, so they must be poor.

They sat in silence for a long time. Then it got dark, and they went to bed. All that week, they girls went to school and came home, and no one Talked much. Finally on Saturday, Mom asked them what they wanted to do with the money. What did poor people do with money? They didn't know. They'd never known they were poor.

Eddie didn't like being poor. She looked at her dress and worn-out shoes and felt so ashamed that she didn't want to go back to church. Everyone there probably already knew they were poor! She thought about school. Eddie was in the ninth grade and at the top of her class of over 100 students. She wondered if the kids at school knew they were poor. Eddie decided she could quit school since she had finished the eighth grade. That was all the law required at that time.

They didn't want to go to church on Sunday, but Mom said they had to. Although it was a sunny day, they didn't talk on the way. Mom started to sing, but no one joined in, and she only sang one verse.

At church they had a missionary speaker. He talked about how churches in Africa made buildings out of sun-dried bricks, but they needed money to buy roofs. He said $100 would put a roof on a church. The minister said, "Can't they all sacrifice to help these poor people?"

They looked at each other and smiled for the first time in a week. Mom reached into her purse and pulled out the envelope. She passed it to Darlene, Darlene gave it to me, and Eddie handed it to Ocy, Ocy put it in the offering.

When the offering was counted, the minister announced that it was a little over $100. The missionary was excited. He hadn't expected such a large offering from their small church. He said, "You must have some rich people in this church."

Suddenly it struck them! They had given $87 of that "little over $100." They were the rich family in the church! Hadn't the missionary said so?

In 1995 my [Charles Colson's] parents had the opportunity to travel in Europe. There were many reminders of World War II there, and during the course of their tour, they visited war memorials and historic military bunkers. But the most memorable stop on their tour was the remains of the Nazi concentration camp Treblinka. What horrible thoughts enter your mind as you walk past human furnaces which incinerated the innocent bodies of hundreds of thousands of Jews. You see the barracks where once healthy active people were crushed in together like cattle, three to a bunk, which were stacked four high. You think about the cold and the pain and the anguish and the unimaginable horror of it all, and you wonder how anyone could have ever held onto hope in such a place. Could there have been any good in the midst of all that evil? Could faith have ever penetrated the darkness?

In 1941, an edict went out from the Nazi's written by Adolf Hitler himself. It detailed the extermination of Jews and the Polish intelligentsia. And, as for the priests and spiritual leaders of Poland, Hitler wrote, "They will preach what we want them to preach. If any priest acts differently, we shall make short work of him. The task of the priest is to keep the Poles quiet, stupid and dull-witted."

About this time Father Maximilian Kolbe was teaching "w=W." "Little w stands for my will and big W stands for the will of God. When the two wills run counter, it means the cross. Our will must be identified with God's." That certainly wasn't what Hitler had in mind, and so Father Kolbe was rounded up and imprisoned. In May of 1941, he was sentenced to an even more "efficient" and evil concentration camp called Auschwitz.

Father Kolbe was assigned to the timber detail. This meant that he would have to carry heavy trunks from one place to another. Guards always stood by to make sure the prisoners did everything with a trot. Although not terribly old, Father Kolbe's body had already been weakened by years of slim rations and the several weeks he had already spent in a Nazi prison. Under the load of the heavy wood, he collapsed. Immediately, officers converged on him, kicking him and beating him with whips. They stretched him out on a pile of wood and gave him 50 lashes, then shoved him in a ditch and left him for dead.

Remarkably though, Father Kolbe survived and was transferred to Barracks 14 where he continued to minister to his fellow prisoners -- praying with them and comforting them. He knew that Christ would eventually triumph, and Father Kolbe simply wanted to be faithful to His Lord.

One night after a man had apparently escaped from Barracks 14, the prisoners were lined up and shown empty gallows. This meant the prisoner may have made it out alive. It also meant death for some of those who remained. All the other barracks were dismissed except Barracks 14. There they stood in the heat of the day. Hours passed. Some wavered and fell, and were promptly beaten, but Father Kolbe managed to stand. By evening, the Commandant came out to render his sentence. "10 of you will die for the escaped man in the starvation bunker. Next time it will be twenty."

Anything would be better than the starvation bunker. A bullet, the gas chamber, hanging -- they all seemed humane compared to the starvation bunker. No food. No water. There were horror stories that circulated about how after a day or two when they dragged the bodies out, they didn't even look like humans anymore.

The commandant walked among the rows of prisoners reading off numbers from their filthy shirts. The chosen groaned and cried. "My poor wife," one man cried. "My poor children, what will they do?" Suddenly there was a commotion among the ranks. A prisoner had broken out of line and was calling for the commandant. It was unheard of to leave the ranks, let alone ever address a Nazi officer. With his hand on his revolver, the commandant shouted, "What does this Polish pig want of me?" The other prisoners gasped. It was their beloved Father Kolbe, the priest who had nourished their souls. Not Father Kolbe!

The frail priest spoke softly, "I would like to die in place of one of the men you condemned." "Why?" snapped the commandant. "I am an old man, sir, good for nothing. My life will serve no purpose." "In whose place do you want to die?" "For that one," Kolbe said pointing to the man who had bemoaned his wife and children. The commandant snorted again and had Kolbe's number written down and the other man's erased. As Father Kolbe passed his fellow prisoner, the astonished look had not even become gratitude yet. But Father Kolbe was not looking for gratitude. If he was to lay down his life for another, the fulfillment had to be in the act of obedience itself. The joy must be found in submitting his small will to the will of God.

As the guards shoved them down the stairs to the basement, he shouted, "remove your clothes!" Christ died on the cross naked for me, Father Kolbe thought. It is only fitting that I suffer as he suffered to gain the glory he gained. In the basement, the 10 men were herded into a dark, windowless cell. "You will dry up like flowers," sneered one of the guards as he swung the heavy iron door shut.

As the hours turned to days, the camp became aware of something extraordinary happening in the death cell. Past prisoners had spent their time screaming and attacking one another in despair. But now, those outside the cell heard the faint sounds of singing. This time their was a shepherd to lead the men through the valley of the shadow of death. Perhaps that is why Father Kolbe was the last to die. When the bunker was needed for more prisoners, the guards found 4 still alive. In the light of a flashlight, the guards saw the face of Father Kolbe, a living skeleton propped against the wall. There was still a shadow of a smile on his face and his eyes were wide open fixed on some far away vision. The guards injected each prisoner to finish the job the starvation bunker could not complete, finally making their way to Father Kolbe. It seemed like a waste of the drug, but they had their orders. In a moment, Father Kolbe was dead.

In Auschwitz today there is a flame that burns as a reminder not of the Nazi atrocities, but of the hope that did exist in the midst of such great horrors. It celebrates the fact that faith and hope and love can exist in all circumstances. And, for those whose trust was in the Lord, it represents the privilege we are sometimes given as Christians to be united to Christ in his sufferings. It should change our whole perspective.

Dr. Roy L. Laurin wrote a book in which he tells about a Christian business man who had gone out to Korea on a visit. As he was traveling about he noticed in a field beside the road a very strange scene. He saw a boy about eighteen years old pulling a plow, and holding the handles of the plow was an older man, evidently the boy's father. This tourist took a snapshot of it and said to his guide, “What a strange thing that is. I suppose they must be very poor people.”

The guide, who was a Christian, said, “Yes, they are poor. I know the story behind this. A number of months ago, the church to which these people belong was erecting a new building. All the members were asked to contribute something. This father and his boy wanted to give but they felt they had nothing to give. Then it dawned upon them that they could give their only ox. So they killed the ox, cut it up, sold the meat in the market and gave all the proceeds of it to the building fund of the church. This spring they have had to pull the plow themselves.”

The businessman said, “That must have been a most remarkable sacrifice for them.” The guide said, “They did not think so. They thought they were rather fortunate to have an ox to give.”

The businessman came back to his own pastor in this country, took the picture to him and told him the story. He said, “Pastor, I want to double my giving to this church this year. I have never given anything that cost me something. I want to do some plow work for the Lord Jesus Christ!”

=====================

Another version from PreachingNow email newsletter, Dec. 11, 2007:

Two well-to-do Christians, a lawyer and a businessman, joined a tour that was going around the world. In Korea one day, they saw a field by the side of the road, and in the field, a boy pulled a crude plow, while an old man held the plow handles and directed it through the rice paddy. The lawyer was amused and took a picture of the scene.

“That’s a curious sight,” he said to the missionary, who was the interpreter and guide. “Yes,” was the reply, “that is the family of Chi Noui. When the church building was built, they were eager to give something, but they had no money, so they sold the only ox they had and gave the money to the church. This spring, they are pulling the plow themselves.”

The lawyer and the businessman were silent for a few moments, then the businessman said, “That must have been a real sacrifice.”

“They did not call it that,” said the missionary. “They thought it was fortunate they had an ox to sell.”

The two tourists did not have much to say after that, but when they reached home, the lawyer took the picture to his minister and told him of the incident. “I want to double my offering to the church,” he said, “and give me some plow work to do. I have never known what sacrifice for the Lord really means. I am ashamed to say that I have never given anything to the Lord that really cost me something.”

________

Rick Ezell

This story was told by an old priest one Sunday. It is a true story of when

he served in the military.

One day their drill sergeant came out and threw a hand grenade into a group

of young soldiers. The men all ran away and took cover away from the

grenade. Then the drill sergeant told them that the grenade was not set to

explode and he just did it to see their reaction. The next day a newly

recruited soldier joined the group. The drill sergeant told the other

soldiers not to tell the new soldier what was going to happen. As the drill

sergeant came out and threw the grenade into the crowd of soldiers, the new

soldier, not knowing it wasn't going to explode, threw himself on top of the

grenade to prevent it from killing the other men. He was willing to die for

his fellow soldiers.

That year the young man was awarded the only medal for courage and bravery

that had not been won during battle.

__________________

Kim Noone, from A Cup of Chicken Soup for the Soul, Copyright 1996 by Jack

Canfield, Mark Victor Hansen & Barry Spilchuk

==================================

Here is a more detailed version by an eye-witness of a similar (same?) event as told in HeroicStories #109: 18 January 2000, www.HeroicStories.com

Johnny Leo, USAF

By Fred T. Beeman

Las Vegas, Nevada, USA

Back in 1968, the Vietnam "War" was in full force, and to avoid being drafted by either the Leathernecks or the Army, I enlisted into the U.S. Air Force. I was 18 and very "innocent" about the ways of the world.

Although all 60 of the occupants of Lackland Air Force Base (San Antonio, Texas) barracks were "unique", Johnny Leo (not his real name) stood out, because of his playful antics and harmless practical jokes. No one in our group knew of Eddie Murphy in those days, but Johnny Leo could have been Eddie's clone or twin brother.

Because Johnny was always clowning around, no one believed that Johnny had a serious side. But on one fateful day we witnessed it, and all of our lives were instantly and forever changed.

As part of our basic training, early morning "formation marching" was something we could always expect. On this Friday morning, as we marched in formation toward the mess hall, a shiny metal ball about the size of a human fist came sailing out of nowhere, landing a few feet away from Johnny Leo, who wasn't all that far away from me. Simultaneously, I heard a drill sergeant scream "GRENADE!"

With no hesitation whatsoever, Johnny Leo shoved two other recruits away from the "pineapple", fell to his knees, placed both his hands on it, hugged it to his stomach and lay down on top of it, his eyes tightly closed, mumbling prayers.

Tears flowed from my eyes as I realized what Johnny was doing. He intended to absorb the entire blast, saving his comrades from either death or permanent injury. An eternity passed for all of us, as we stood watching Johnny, waiting for the explosion, too scared to move.

Another drill sergeant came racing toward Johnny, who was still laying on the grenade, with his eyes tightly shut. The sergeant yelled, "At ease, soldier! It's a fake! YOU ARE IN NO DANGER!" Johnny refused to budge from his position, certain that his life was over. Two drill sergeants rolled Johnny on his back and forcibly pried his fingers off the dummy grenade. Once that was done, one held up the replica saying, "See? IT'S NOT REAL!" Johnny, who had been emotionally at Heaven's Gate, began to cry and shake uncontrollably, as did the rest of us in his barracks.

As Johnny was carried off by two sergeants to the base hospital to be calmed down and checked over, one of our sergeants confided to us that a few times a year, Air Force personnel deliberately toss a dummy grenade into a group of raw recruits, searching for that ONE man who will react like Johnny Leo. Although it appears to be a sick practical joke, the Air Force made no apologies for its methods.

On a Friday in 1968, Johnny Leo unintentionally demonstrated his love for his fellow Airmen, showed he had "the right stuff," and became our "hero" forever.

*

It started out as a family adventure - it ended as a family tragedy. James Reddick took his 12-year-old son and his 11-year-old daughter on a hiking expedition up Mount Rainier in Washington State. All of a sudden, a freak snowstorm arose, creating instant blizzard conditions and hurricane-force winds. With a blinding "white out" around them, they could not go any further. Dad knew they had to create some kind of shelter. All he could do was to cut out a large hole in the ground, using a cup from their cooking kit, and then he put his children in that hole and covered it with a tarp. But the fierce winds kept blowing the tarp away, leaving the children exposed to that deadly storm. The father tried everything he could find to hold down the tarp, but nothing worked. Finally, in one last, desperate attempt to save his children, he actually lay across that hole himself to keep the snow from blowing in. Two days later, a search party noticed an edge of a backpack. They uncovered the hole and they found the two children alive and well. But first they uncovered their father - who froze to death, protecting the ones he loved.

I'm Ron Hutchcraft and I want to have A Word With You today about "The Magnet In That Old Hunk Of Wood."

That father had given the highest kind of love there is - the giving of his life so people he loved wouldn't have to die. It is that kind of love that touches us in the deepest part of us - compelling love. It's why I'm asking you to open your heart today to the One who has loved you like that.

It's Jesus who said those oft-quoted words: "Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends." (John 15:13) Then, in John 10:11, our word for today from the Word of God, Jesus says, "I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down His life for the sheep." I'm one of those sheep He laid down His life for. And so are you. And that's why it is so important that you make sure you belong to Him, that you've responded to Jesus. The Son of God put His body between you and the awful consequences of running your own life - eternal separation from God. When He died on the cross, Jesus took the storm of God's judgment on Himself. He died so you don't have to.

Malcolm Muggeridge was one of the most respected British journalists of the last century. His keen insights and distinctive writings appeared regularly in some of England's most respected publications. For much of his life, he was an articulate unbeliever when it came to Jesus Christ. But later in life, his perspective changed dramatically. He became a committed and outspoken follower of Jesus Christ. When he was asked what drew him to Christ, he simply said, "It is the Cross, more than anything else, that has called me inexorably to Christ."

Not Christianity, not rituals, not beliefs, not even the great teachings and miracles of Jesus - it was His cross. See, there really is a magnet in that old hunk of wood - a magnet that draws us to the foot of that cross to see how very much He loves us. In your heart, would you allow yourself to walk up to that old skull-shaped hill, stand there at the foot of that cross and look at the agony of the Son of God, nailed to that cross. And listen as He looks your way and says, "Father, forgive him" ... "Father, forgive her." Put all the excuses aside, all your religion, all your failures, all those hypocrites you've known, all those questions - and just let it finally overwhelm you - God's one and only Son loves me ... He died for me!

And then, bow down at that cross and give yourself to this One who cared more about your life than His own. Tell Him, "Jesus, I'm Yours!" If that's what you want, let me send you the booklet, "Yours For Life," that I wrote about this relationship. I'll let you know how to get it in just a moment.

I can understand if you walk by Christians or even Christianity. But please - don't walk by the Cross! That's a love you dare not pass by. And it's your only hope of heaven.

________________

Copyright © Ron Hutchcraft Ministries, Inc., PO Box 400, Harrison, AR 72602. Used by permission. Written by Ron Hutchcraft. 'Practical Answers to Real Life Issues'

*

This is a first-person account from a mother about her family as they ate dinner on Christmas Day in a small restaurant many miles from their home.

Nancy, the mother, relates: We were the only family with children in the restaurant. I sat Erik in a high chair and noticed everyone was quietly eating and talking. Suddenly, Erik squealed with glee and said, "Hi there." He pounded his fat baby hands on the high-chair tray. His eyes were wide with excitement and his mouth was bared in a toothless grin. He wriggled and giggled with merriment.

I looked around and saw the source of his merriment. It was a man with a tattered rag of a coat; dirty, greasy and worn. His pants were baggy with a zipper at half-mast and his toes poked out of would-be shoes. His shirt was dirty and his hair was uncombed and unwashed. His whiskers were too short to be called a beard and his nose was so varicose it looked like a road map.

We were too far from him to smell, but I was sure he smelled. His hands waved and flapped on loose wrists. "Hi there, baby; hi there, big boy. I see ya, buster," the man said to Erik. My husband and I exchanged looks, "What do we do?" Erik continued to laugh and answer, "Hi, hi there." Everyone in the restaurant noticed and looked at us and then at the man. The old geezer was creating a nuisance with my beautiful baby.

Our meal came and the man began shouting from across the room, "Do ya know patty cake? Do you know peek-a-boo? Hey, look, he knows peek-a-boo." Nobody thought the old man was cute. He was obviously drunk. My husband and I were embarrassed. We ate in silence; all except for Erik, who was running through his repertoire for the admiring skid-row bum, who in turn, reciprocated with his cute comments.

We finally got through the meal and headed for the door. My husband went to pay the check and told me to meet him in the parking lot. The old man sat poised between me and the door. "Lord, just let me out of here before he speaks to me or Erik," I prayed. As I drew closer to the man, I turned my back trying to side-step him and avoid any air he might be breathing. As I did, Erik leaned over my arm, reaching with both arms in a baby's pick-me-up, position. Before I could stop him, Erik had propelled himself from my arms to the man's.

Suddenly a very old smelly man and a very young baby consummated their love relationship. Erik in an act of total trust, love and submission laid his tiny head upon the man's ragged shoulder. The man's eyes closed, and I saw tears hover beneath his lashes. His aged hands full of grime, pain and hard labor - gently, so gently cradled my baby's bottom and stroked his back.

No two beings have ever loved so deeply for so short a time. I stood awestruck. The old man rocked and cradled Erik in his arms for a moment, and then his eyes opened and set squarely on mine. He said in a firm commanding voice, "You take care of this baby." Somehow I managed, "I will," from a throat that contained a stone. He pried Erik from his chest unwillingly, longingly, as though he were in pain. I received my baby, and the man said, "God bless you, ma'am, you've given me my Christmas gift." I said nothing more than a muttered thanks. With Erik in my arms, I ran for the car. My husband was wondering why I was crying and holding Erik so tightly, and why I was saying, "My God, my God, forgive me."

I had just witnessed Christ's love shown through the innocence of a tiny child who saw no sin, who made no judgment; a child who saw a soul, and a mother who saw a suit of clothes. I was a Christian who was blind, holding a child who was not. I felt it was God asking -- "Are you willing to share your son for a moment?", when He shared His for all eternity.

The ragged old man, unwittingly, had reminded me, "To enter the Kingdom of God, we must become as little children."

=============

Another version, with a different name for the mother:

This is a first-person account from a mother about her family as they ate dinner on Christmas Day in a small restaurant many miles from their home. Sally, the mother, relates:

We were the only family with children in the restaurant. I sat Erik in a high chair and noticed everyone was quietly eating and talking. Suddenly, Erik squealed with glee. He pounded his fat baby hands on the high-chair tray. His eyes were wide with excitement and his mouth was bared in a toothless grin. He wriggled and giggled with merriment.

I looked around and saw the source of his merriment. It was a man with a tattered rag of a coat; dirty, greasy and worn. His pants were baggy with a zipper at half-mast and his toes poked out of would-be shoes. His shirt was dirty and his hair was uncombed and unwashed. His whiskers were too short to be called a beard and his nose was so varicose it looked like a road map. We were too far from him to smell, but I was sure he smelled. His hands waved and flapped on loose wrists. “Hi there, baby; hi there, big boy. I see ya, buster,” the man said to Erik.

My husband and I exchanged looks, “What do we do?”

Erik continued to laugh and the man answered, “Hi, hi there.” Everyone in the restaurant noticed and looked at us and then at the man. The old geezer was creating a nuisance with my beautiful baby. Our meal came and the man began shouting from across the room, “Do ya know patty cake? Do you know peek-a-boo? Hey, look, he knows peek-a-boo.”

Nobody thought the old man was cute. He was obviously drunk. My husband and I were embarrassed. We ate in silence; all except for Erik, who was running through his repertoire for the admiring skid-row bum, who in turn, reciprocated with his cute comments.

We finally got through the meal and headed for the door. My husband went to pay the check and told me to meet him in the parking lot. The old man sat poised between me and the door. “Lord, just let me out of here before he speaks to me or Erik,” I prayed.

As I drew closer to the man, I turned my back trying to side-step him and avoid any air he might be breathing. As I did, Erik leaned over my arm, reaching with both arms in a baby’s pick-me-up, position. Before I could stop him, Erik had propelled himself from my arms to the man’s. Suddenly a very old smelly man and a very young baby consummated their love relationship.

Erik in an act of total trust, love and submission laid his tiny head upon the man’s ragged shoulder. The man’s eyes closed, and I saw tears hover beneath his lashes. His aged hands full of grime, pain and hard labor – gently, so gently cradled my baby’s bottom and stroked his back. No two beings have ever loved so deeply for so short a time. I stood awestruck. The old man rocked and cradled Erik in his arms for a moment, and then his eyes opened and set squarely on mine.

He said in a firm, commanding voice, “You take care of this baby.” Somehow I managed, “I will,” from a throat that contained a stone. He pried Erik from his chest unwillingly, longingly, as though he were in pain. I received my baby, and the man said, “God bless you, ma’am, you’ve given me my Christmas gift.”

I said nothing more than a muttered thanks. With Erik in my arms, I ran for the car. My husband was wondering why I was crying and holding Erik so tightly, and why I was saying, “My God, my God, forgive me.”

I had just witnessed Christ’s love shown through the innocence of a tiny child who saw no sin, who made no judgment; a child who saw a soul, and a mother who saw a suit of clothes.

I was a Christian who was blind, holding a child who was not. I felt it was God asking – “Are you willing to share your son for a moment?”, when He Shared His for All Eternity.

The ragged old man unwittingly had reminded me, “To enter The Kingdom of God, we must become as little children.”

There are no Thanksgiving traditions about fourteen year old John Hooke. No songs, no poems, no pilgrim lore. Yet of all the long forgotten stories from the original 102 people aboard the Mayflower in 1620, maybe this is one we ought to remember.

When John Hooke's father died, his mother signed an apprenticeship agreement with a tailor, a man named Isaac Allerton. This arrangement meant John was under the tutelage of Mr. Allerton, a master who would show him a trade, provide food and clothing, and teach him about religion and faith.

The faith and religion lessons turned out to be the most difficult. Allerton and his family were among those on the two month trip across the Atlantic on the Mayflower, a voyage the passengers clearly understood as a pilgrimage for a more perfect faith and the freedom to live it.

John Hooke lived long enough to die that first brutal winter in Plymouth. He was one of many who suffered. Three days before land was sighted another young boy had died. Isaac Allerton's wife, Mary, gave birth to a stillborn son. Another woman gave birth just after landfall, naming the child Peregrine, meaning “one who journeys to foreign lands.”

Abraham Lincoln wrote in his proclamation of Thanksgiving as a National Holiday in 1863, “We have been the recipients of the choicest bounties of Heaven; we have been preserved these many years in peace and prosperity; we have grown in numbers, wealth and power as no other nation has ever grown.”

How right Mr. Lincoln was, and is. Accustomed to the blessings of this world, it's easy to lose a spirit of thankfulness and lose touch with the spirit of Thanksgiving.

HIS GIFT IS THAT HE REMINDS ME OF HOW RICH I AM.

When I was John Hooke's age, I was singing, “Over the river and through the woods...” On my fourteenth Thanksgiving Day I was eating extra pie, waiting for the Dallas Cowboys, warming by the fire, or jumping in a pile of leaves. That's just what a kid does the fourth Thursday in November. Here's the “Thanksgiving Hooke,” the peace we enjoy as kids, innocently growing up in a land of freedom, largely unfamiliar with pilgrim sufferings, those who died and those who lived.

We give thanks this week. The sacrifice of so many. The bounty of Heaven. The love of family. The blessings of a gracious God.

And the gift of Pilgrims and an apprentice boy. Though we know of no significant contribution John Hooke made to the Mayflower mission he has made a great offering to our point of view. While he did not sign the Mayflower Compact, and he likely had no choice but to board that boat, John Hooke provides an ocean of perspective.

His brief life calls us to search our hearts for a heaping measure of sacrifice and an extra helping of thankfulness.

Here's one more Thanksgiving Hooke: The Biblical word most like the old English concept of apprentice is “disciple.” Will we attach ourselves to a master teacher, learn his ways, go where He goes, suffer for His Name, journey with Him to another land in faith?

Will we be pilgrims? Will we be apprentices of Jesus? Maybe it's enough today to ask, “Will we be thankful?”

*

[Original illustration at this number was deleted as obsolete]

MORE THAN A LIEUTENANT

During World War II came the story of an officer that truly cared

for his men. They were near enemy lines. The fighting had become quite

heavy. Suddenly a grenade landed in the midst of his men. This officer

threw his own body over the grenade. It ripped his chest open and tore

out his heart. He gave his life for his men.

When Jesus was nailed to the tree He threw his life over the sin

of all mankind. It ripped his heart out and it burst. But all men

could have the benefits of his life, his blood, his sacrifice. He more

than care for you.

I once heard the story of a rice farmer who saved an entire village from destruction. From his hilltop farm he felt the quake and saw the distant ocean swiftly withdraw from the old shore line, like some prodigious animal crouching back for a leap. He knew that the leap would be a tidal wave. In the valley below, he saw his neighbors working low fields that would soon be flooded. They must run quickly to his hilltop or they would all die. His rice barns were dry as tinder. So with a torch he set fire to his barns and soon the fire gong started ringing. His neighbors saw the smoke and rushed to help him. Then from their safe perch they saw the tidal wave wash over the fields they had just left. In a flash they knew not only who had saved them but what their salvation had cost their benefactor. They later erected a monument to his memory bearing the motto, “He gave us all he had, and gave gladly.”

I think the same words could be said of our heavenly Father and the gift of his only begotten Son!

"For thy servant became surety for the lad" (Genesis 44:32).

Five-year-old Mary was obliged to undergo an operation, and lost so much blood that it was necessary to resort to blood transfusion. The blood of thirteen-year-old brother Jimmy was found by test to match exactly the little patient's. "Will you give your sister some of your blood, Jim?" asked the doctor. Jimmy set his teeth. "Yes, sir, if she needs it." He was prepared for the transfusion. In the midst of the drawing of the blood, the doctor observed Jimmy growing paler and paler. "Are you ill, Jim?" he asked. "No, sir, but I'm wondering just when I'll die." "Die?" gasped the doctor. "Do you think people give their lives when they give a little blood?" "Yes, sir," replied Jimmy. "And you are giving your life for Mary's?" "Yes, sir," replied Jimmy. Can you tell me of a finer heroism than this?

-- From AMOS R. WELLS, in Christian Herald. Sent by Eleanor L. Griffith, Rockland, Maine.

By William Moses Tidwell, "Effective Illustrations."

It is reported that recently, when the Japanese were advancing on a

certain town in China with their tanks, the Chinese had no tanks with

which to meet them. The loyal Chinese fell on to this plan: they took

all the kinds of explosives that could be found and tied them on their

bodies. When the Japanese advanced the Chinese rushed into them, and,

of course, were blown to bits, but the Japanese were routed. The

Chinese had become human tanks. They did this for their country. What

will we do for Jesus?

William Moses Tidwell, "Effective Illustrations."

During the siege of Plevna, the Czar, while going around the camp one evening, found a man who had fallen asleep while writing a letter to his wife. This officer had told of his hard work and exposure in the trenches, but said that these were nothing compared to his debts. "Who will pay my debts?" he wrote. Then he fell asleep brooding over his trouble. The Czar glanced over the officer's shoulder, read the letter, and wrote underneath the question, "I will. -- Alexander." When the officer awoke he could hardly believe his eyes. His heart leaped for joy.

William Moses Tidwell, "Effective Illustrations."

Two wealthy Christians, a lawyer and a merchant, joined a party

that was traveling around the world.

In Korea one day, they saw, in a field by the side of the road, a

boy pulling a rude plow, while an old man held the plow handles and

directed it. The lawyer was amused, and took a snap shot of the scene.

"That's a curious picture! I suppose they are very poor," he said

to the missionary, who was interpreter and guide to the party.

"Yes," was the reply. "That is the family of Chi Noui. When the

church was being built they were eager to give something to it, but

they had no money; so they sold their only ox and gave their money to

the church. This spring they are pulling the plow themselves."

The lawyer and the business man by his side were silent for some

moments. Then the business man said, "That must have been a real

sacrifice."

"They did not call it that," said the missionary. "They thought

that it was fortunate that they had an ox to sell."

The lawyer and the business man had not much to say. But when they

reached home, the lawyer took that picture to his minister and told

him the story. -- The Evangelical

Many years ago in Canada a young man, his wife, his two children, and another young man were pursued by a large pack of hungry wolves. When about to be overtaken, they shot some of the wolves. This stopped the wolves a short time while they devoured the dead ones. Again about to be overtaken, they cut the lead horse of the three-horse team loose. The wolves pounced upon him and devoured him. The people were trying to reach the place of safety; but, before they could do so, the wolves were upon them.

The young man who was with the other young man and his family said, "The only hope is for me to give myself to the wolves." Then he immediately leaped from the vehicle into the pack of wolves. Of course he was devoured immediately. Just as they reached the place of safety, the wolves were again upon them; but the family rushed in and was safe. They could scarcely rest. They said, "Our friend gave himself for us. We are living because he is dead." So it is with us. Christ did not save himself. He gave himself. He is our Substitute.

William Moses Tidwell, "Pointed Illustrations."

In a school for the poor and underprivileged there was a rule that,

if certain things took place, the offender was to be stripped and

receive so many lashes. One day a very poor boy broke this rule. He

was called and stripped to receive his punishment. He had had little

to eat, and was almost a skeleton. The teacher and others grieved.

Finally the teacher asked if anyone would like to volunteer and take

the punishment instead of this poor, sick boy. One fine fellow stepped

up and said, "I will." His back was bared and he received the lashes.

The poor boy who had broken the rule stood by and looked on and wept.

When it was over, he was so broken up he could hardly speak. He begged

forgiveness, thanked his substitute, and vowed he would never disobey

again.

But there is another who "was wounded for our transgressions" and

"bruised for our iniquities." It seems we should surely love and obey

Him.

William Moses Tidwell, "Pointed Illustrations."

An elderly mother in Scotland gave up her son to the Lord. One day she went to a missionary society meeting where only contributing members were admitted. The doorkeeper asked, “Are you a contributor?” “I am afraid not,” she answered. When he wouldn't let her in, she left disappointed.

Pondering his words, she thought of her son who years before had gone as a missionary to Sierra Leone in West Africa. His body now lay buried in that distant land. She retraced her steps to the building and explained to the man, “I forgot. You asked me if I was a contributor. I gave my only boy, and he is buried out in Sierra Leone.” The doorkeeper removed his cap, bowed graciously, and said, “Come in.” He then led her to a front seat.

In a recent CITY JOURNAL retrospective of three American cartoonists, Stefan Kanfer recalled one whose name might not be familiar: Bill Mauldin. You may, however, remember his drawing of the Lincoln Memorial statue with its head in its hands, an act of mourning the day after John F. Kennedy was shot.

Mauldin was an Army G.I. during World War II. Having learned to draw from a correspondence course and later at the Academy of Fine Art in Chicago, he began contributing cartoons to the 45th Division newspaper. Soon his cartoons appeared in STARS AND STRIPES, the Army newspaper.

His drawings depicted, writes Kanfer, “two 'dogfaces,' unshaven battle-weary men known only as Willie and Joe.” Willie's and Joe's remarks vividly illustrated the lives of the common soldier. In one, Willie remarks to a medic: “Just give me the aspirin. I already got a Purple Heart.” In another, Joe, peeking out from his tent at a puppy shivering in the rain, says: “Let 'em in. I wanna see a critter I kin feel sorry fer.”

Mauldin wrote about Willie and Joe saying: “Their nobility and dignity come from the way they live unselfishly and risk their lives to help each other. They wish ... they were someplace else, and they wish ... they would get relief. They wish ... the mud was dry, and they wish ... their coffee was hot. They want to go home. But they stay in their wet holes and fight, and then they climb out and crawl through minefields and fight some more.”

Kanfer notes that historian Stephen Ambrose described the soldiers of the Battle of the Bulge in much the same way. “What was unacceptable to the G.I. in that foxhole,” Ambrose explained, “was letting his buddies down. They knew the difference between right and wrong, and they didn't want to live in a world in which wrong prevailed.”

That same motivation has always spurred our soldiers to action — including our troops in Operation Iraqi Freedom. They also endured hardships, bad weather conditions — and some, taken prisoner, endured torture — all because they knew that in fighting the war, they were overthrowing a regime in which “wrong prevailed.”

I remember the famous photo a few years ago of a Princeton student at an anti-war rally carrying a poster that read, “Nothing is worth dying for.” How sad. But Col. David Perkins at a ceremony in Baghdad, remembering those who died in Iraq, got it right. “There are things worth dying for,” he said. “Freedom is one of those things.”

And while we do well to celebrate great war heroes like Eisenhower and Patton, don't forget the quiet, humble sacrifice of the enlisted soldiers that Willie and Joe represented: those who left the comforts of home, the love of family, and the safety of their country to fight so that right would prevail.

In his discussion of Psalm 131, Saint Augustine wrote that “humility of heart is a sacrifice.” On this Memorial Day let us share the sacrifice of those who served in all the wars, from the Revolution through Iraq — and do so by humbling ourselves in gratitude to them. And yes, fly the flag today and say a prayer of thanks for all the Willies and Joes who humbled their hearts, taking on difficult roles to serve our country.

For further reading:

Stefan Kanfer, “NOW THAT'S POPULAR CULTURE,” CITY JOURNAL 13, No. 2 (Spring 2003).

Chris Tomlinson, “U.S. TROOPS REMEMBER COMRADES AT CEREMONY,” SEATTLE POST-INTELLIGENCER, April 26, 2003.

“PRAYER FOR PEACE, MEMORIAL DAY, 2003,” by the President of the United States of America, a Proclamation, White House Office of the Press Secretary, May 23, 2003.

Adam Sparks, “GREATER LOVE HATH NO MAN,” SAN FRANCISCO CHRONICLE, May 23, 2003.

Paul Beston, “THE SANDS OF J. CREW,” AMERICAN SPECTATOR, May 23, 2003.

Michelle Malkin, “REMEMBER THE DEAD — AND THE LIVING,” Townhall.com, May 23, 2003.

Lynn Vincent, “SONS & DAUGHTERS,” WORLD, May 24, 2003.

WORLD magazine includes a LIST OF SOLDIERS WHO DIED IN OPERATION IRAQI FREEDOM on its site.

Visit THIS WEBSITE dedicated to promoting the original intent of Memorial Day.

BreakPoint Commentary No. 020527, “REMEMBERING THE FUTURE: THE LESSONS OF MEMORIAL DAY.”

BreakPoint Commentary No. 020528, “CIGARETTES, CANDY, C-RATIONS, AND FREEDOM: MEMORIAL DAY MEMORIES.”

You can read the DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE (July 4, 1776) at the National Archives and Records Administration website.

Anne Morse, “I PLEDGE ALLEGIANCE TO MYSELF,” BREAKPOINT ONLINE, August 19, 2002.

____________

Copyright (c) 2003 Prison Fellowship Ministries. Reprinted with permission. "BreakPoint with Chuck Colson" is a radio ministry of Prison Fellowship Ministries.

*

[Original illustration at this number was a duplicate of HolwickID #21120]

Colonel Byrd, of Virginia, fell into the hands of the Cherokees, and was condemned to death. In the tribe was a chief who had before been his friend. At the approach of the executioners, the Indian threw himself upon the intended victim, saying, “This man is my friend; before you can get at him, you must kill me.” This saved him. (Tan #5221)

Like Jesus for us.

On Sunday, August 16, 1987, Northwest Airlines flight 225 crashed just after taking off from the Detroit airport. One hundred fifty-five people were killed. One survived: a 4-year-old from Tempe, Arizona, named Cecelia.

News accounts say when rescuers found Cecelia, they did not believe she had been on the plane. Investigators first assumed Cecelia had been a passenger in one of the cars on the highway onto which the airliner crashed. But when the passenger register for the flight was checked, there was Cecelia's name.

Cecelia survived because, as the plane was falling, Cecelia's mother, Paula Chican, unbuckled her own seat belt, got down on her knees in front of her daughter, wrapped her arms and body around Cecelia, and then would not let her go.

Nothing could separate that child from her parent's love — not tragedy or disaster, not the fall or the flames that followed, not height nor depth, not life nor death. Such is the love of our Savior for us. He left heaven, lowered himself to us, and covered us with the sacrifice of His own body to save us.

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Quote is adapted from Bryan Chapell's "In The Grip of Grace" (Baker, 1992).

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Another version from Mitchell Dillon, in Illustration Exchange Internet Newsletter

Love to Last a Lifetime

Occasionally, a news item will really capture my attention. This happened on the evening of August 16th, 1987. I was watching the news when it was reported that a Northwest Airlines jet had crashed just after take off from the Detroit airport, killing 155 people. As horrific as the report was, it wasn’t the crash or the casualties that surprised me as much as what followed. The lone survivor of the crash was a four year old little girl. I remember wondering how a small, frail, four year old could survive when everyone else had died. Was she sitting in just the right seat? Was it her size that helped her avoid the fate of the other passengers?

Seventeen years later I came across the answer to this mystery in an article that mentioned the Detroit crash. In it I learned that the little girl’s name was Cecelia and that the first responders to the accident were so surprised to find her alive that they concluded that she must have been a passenger in one of the vehicles on the highway where the plane had crashed. Though very young, Cecelia was old enough to tell the amazing story behind her miraculous survival.

According to the little girl’s testimony, as the plane was falling from the sky, her mother unbuckled her own seat belt, knelt down in front of her, wrapped her arms and body around her, and refused to let go! Cecelia’s mother had used her own body to shield her from death!

As I marveled over this unimaginable act of self-less love, it occurred to me that Cecelia would now be a grown woman. As such, she would have grown up without the tangible love of her mother. Her mother wasn’t there to send her off on that first day of school, or available to counsel her during those difficult teen years, or present to cheer for her on graduation day, or be there to cry for joy on her wedding day.

Nevertheless, I am sure of one thing. There has never been a day, no, not one moment when Cecelia has ever questioned her mother’s love. By one pure, bold, and courageous act, this mother sent her daughter a message of love sufficient to last her a life time. Such an unequivocal and selfless act stands firm like a rock, immovable and unchallengeable. In the face of such love, time and distance become irrelevant.

Did you know that Jesus was moved by just such a love when He put himself in harms way to secure your salvation? By setting aside the exercise of His deity and taking on the humble form of humanity, Jesus unbuckled His seat belt. By entering Jerusalem to meet his prophesied end, He knelt before you. By suffering on the cross, He wrapped His arms and body around you and refused to let go! By dying on the cross Jesus offered Himself, His own body, to shield you from eternal death!

When God seems distant, you must remember the message of the Cross. Such an unequivocal act of love stands firm like a rock, immovable and unchallengeable. In the face of such love, time and distance become irrelevant. Listen, believe, and know that you are truly loved.

“Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends” (John 15:13).

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[Original illustration at this number was a duplicate of HolwickID #2020]