Three Little Black Girls

This is a true strory from a friend of mine.  He would love to talk to any one of these girls.

“The year was 1978.  I had been a Christian for about 3 years.  I was a member of a fundamental Baptist church in Birmingham, Alabama.  I had a bus route.  I was determined to win the bus captain of the year trophy for 1979.  I did something that no one else was doing.  I started running my bus on Sunday nights.  One Sunday night, three black girls ages 11-13 rode the bus.  We had talked Sunday afternoon to one of them and she brought two of her friends.

They were giddy as you would expect young girls to be.  When we arrived at the church, someone alerted the deacon who alerted the pastor that Bro. Rice was bringing in three black girls.  I was ordered not to let them off the bus.  So, I told them to wait on the bus until I got back.  The pastor and a deacon took me in one of the classrooms of the Christian school across the street from the church.  The pastor told me I could not bring them into the church.  He said it would split the church.  I asked, “Don’t they have souls?”  He replied, “Do you want your son to marry one?”  I said “Well, what should I do? Take them to McDonalds and buy them a hamburger?”  I was being sarcastic, but I was feeling hurt and felt really bad. “That’s not a bad idea,” the preacher replied.  After a long silence, the pastor just said, “Do whatever you want to do.”  Then he walked out.  I sat there trying to think.  Then, I went to the bus and told the girls to follow me to the school.  I took them into a classroom and tried to get them to understand why they couldn’t go in the church.  Then I proceeded to tell them the gospel using the blackboard to illustrate the great chasm that separates sinful man from God.   After explaining the way of salvation to them, I asked them to bow and receive Jesus.  They did and we prayed together.  Then, we talked a bit and we went back to the bus to wait for church to be over.  Then we took every body home.  But that’s not the end of the story.

The next Sunday morning we were picking up kids and when we got in the neighborhood of the black girls I just kept going by.  But to my surprise the little girl whom we had talked to the week before came running after the bus!!  Sherry, one of the bus workers said, “Bro Rice, we’ve got to stop!”  So, I stopped the bus, put it in park and stepped off the bus to meet her.  She was all smiles.  She had on a light blue dress–black shiny shoes and matching socks.  She had her Bible and her purse and she was ready to go and worship God.  I’ll never forget the way she looked that bright Sunday morning.  But, I had to be “loyal” to my pastor.  I had to tell her that I was sorry, but I couldn’t let her ride the bus, because the people at the church didn’t want her because of the color of her skin.  Her smile went away.  She turned and started walking home.  I got back on the bus, and you could cut the tension with a knife.  I felt like the biggest heel there ever was.  That day was the beginning of many more disappointing times I would later experience.

In retrospect, I wish I had welcomed her, or taken her and myself to a different church.  She’s much older now and so am I.  I always wondered how she got along.  Was I the cause of her giving up on church, on God?  Did she grow in Christ in spite of me?  Does she hate me?  I pray that God has truly saved her and that she is happy in Christ. I will never know in this life, but perhaps I can tell her how sorry I am in heaven.”

I am not sure we are completely past this era in America.  The 11 o’clock hour on Sunday morning remains the most segregated hour of the week.

Is Richard Dawkins right?

Is Richard Dawkins right?  Are the values that atheism brings best for the individual and for society?

After reading this article I had to quote the whole of it.  To me, this is an apologetic that should not go unnoticed by Christians and atheists also.  There is even something here to ponder for Muslims.

Ask yourself, do you agree with Ranald’s valuation of the human soul?  Where does the valuation that he speaks of come from?

Agreeing and Disagreeing with Dawkins

A chill swept through me as I read Charles Moore’s recent article on the Beijing games (1). Media images of hard, cruel-faced bodyguards accompanying the Olympic torch around the world now slotted into place. ‘As the choice of Berlin for the Olympic Games in 1936 marked Hitler’s success and international acceptance so the choice of Beijing for 2008 marks China’s’. In other words the global community is being treated to a massive con exercise. An emblem of peace masks a system of despotism.

The juxtaposition – Berlin and Beijing – is uncomfortable to say the least. And recent reports of secret nuclear submarine bases in south China, not to mention America’s unprecedented financial indebtedness to the Asian giant, make it the more so. It will be dismissed out of hand by some as ill-timed and uncharitable scare-mongering from an envious and declining West. But what struck me most about Moore’s comment is his historical and comparative analysis for, as well as being true, it provides a helpful introduction to what I want to say about Richard Dawkins. ‘We have spent much time in recent years complaining about America’s abuse of power. Sometimes the criticism is justified, but we have hardly begun to consider the alternative and how appalling it would be. Whenever we attack America we do so in the knowledge that it has a visible system of self-correction that might listen to us. It has a constitutional structure which is built to accommodate differing views. China has nothing of the sort, and never has had.’

I emphasise the last four words deliberately: ‘and never has had’. At no point has China had anything remotely like the degree of social freedom and overall prosperity enjoyed for centuries in the West. In the more distant past its wealth and inventiveness surpassed anything comparable at the time. Similarly its social cohesion fostered by Confucian ethics was impressive. But none of these achievements ever existed alongside the enjoyment of individual freedom within the state. John Roberts, author of ‘The Triumph of the West’ (1984), expands on this. ‘At the deepest level it is in its Christian nature that the explanation of medieval society in shaping the future must lie…(for) at the heart of Christianity…lay always the concept of the supreme, infinite value of the individual soul. This was the taproot of respect for the individual in the here and now…(and) its importance can easily be sensed by considering the absence in other great cultures – Islam, Hindu India and China – of such an emphasis…In none of them was the safeguarding of individual rights to be given much attention until the coming of Western ideas’. And if this is true of what Roberts calls ‘the great cultures’, certainly it is more so of ‘the lesser cultures’, the indigenous and principally animistic societies of pre-Christian Europe, Africa, North and South America and the rest of Asia.

The relevance of all this for Dawkins is the attention it draws to Christianity’s uniqueness. Moore and Roberts seem to be in little doubt that one factor above all others distinguishes western civilization from cultures before and after. Through no inherent virtue of race or cultural heritage and with unreserved admissions of crimes and misdemeanours like the crusades and slavery committed en route, it still remains true that this civilization, uniquely in history, ordered its affairs according to the ‘supreme, infinite value of the human soul’. Whatever constitutional procedures, freedom of speech, relatively high standards of living etc it enjoyed, it enjoyed because of the Christian faith. That it became the envy and model of the world simply reinforces the fact that it was unknown elsewhere.

So, as was pointed out in Part I of this brief comment on ‘The God Delusion’, we readily accept Dawkins’ strictures about ‘religion’ in general. The Bible itself endorses them – that false religion lies at the root of human misery. But Christianity refuses to be aligned like this and interposes along with its other powerful evidences the empirical reality of ‘Christian heritage’ which refuses to let Dawkins off the hook. For if his assertions are correct it would seem to follow that atheism’s displacement of religion should usher in a more humane society. But the opposite is in fact the case for nothing in all history surpasses the brutality of the social systems most consistently modelled upon his own atheistic world-view – Nazism and Communism. He is of course unhappy with this juxtaposition and tries to avoid it, but his reasoning makes it hard to conclude otherwise.

“The universe we observe has precisely the properties we should expect if there is at bottom no design, no purpose, no evil and no good, nothing but blind pitiless indifference…”(2)

‘No evil and no good’. It is the chilling logic of an atheistic worldview whether Chinese or British. And if the latter, because western, feels less threatening right now we should recall Berlin 1936.

(1) Daily Telegraph12/04/08
(2) The Blind Watchmaker

Source: http://www.christianheritageuk.org.uk/Articles/115123/Home/Resources/Recent_Articles/Agreeing_and_disagreeing.aspx

What is your view of The Son?

Take my Son

A wealthy man and his son loved to collect rare works of art. They had everything in their collection, from Picasso to Raphael. They would often sit together and admire the great works of art.

When the Vietnam conflict broke out, the son went to war. He was very courageous and died in battle while rescuing another soldier. The father was notified and grieved deeply for his only son.

About a month later, just before Christmas, there was a knock at the door. A young man stood at the door with a large package in his hands. He said, ‘Sir, you don’t know me, but I am the soldier for whom your son gave his life. He saved many lives that day, and he was carrying me to safety when a bullet struck him in the heart and he died instantly. He often talked about you, and your love for art..’ The young man held out this package. ‘I know this isn’t much.  I’m not really a great artist, but I think your son would have wanted you to have this.’

The Father opened the package. It was a portrait of his son, painted by the young man. He stared in awe at the way the soldier had captured the personality of his son in the painting. The father was so drawn to the eyes that his own eyes welled up with tears. He thanked the young man and offered to pay him for the picture. ‘Oh, no sir, I could never repay what your son did for me. It’s a gift.’

The father hung the portrait over his mantle. Every time visitors came to his home he took them to see the portrait of his son before he showed them any of the other great works he had collected.

The man died a few months later. There was to be a great auction of his paintings. Many influential people gathered, excited over seeing the great paintings and having an opportunity to purchase one for their collection.  On the platform sat the painting of the son. The auctioneer pounded his gavel. ‘We will start the bidding with this picture of the son.. Who will bid for this picture?’

There was silence.

Then a voice in the back of the room shouted, ‘We want to see the famous paintings. Skip this one.’

But the auctioneer persisted. ‘Will somebody bid for this painting? Who will start the bidding? $100…,$200?’

Another voice angrily was heard. ‘We didn’t come to see this painting. We came to see the Van Gogh’s, the Rembrandts. Get on with the real bids!’

But still the auctioneer continued. ‘The son! The  son! Who’ll take the son?’

Finally, a voice came from the very back of the room. It was the longtime gardener of the man and his son. ‘I’ll give $10 for the painting.’ Being a poor man, it was all he could afford.

‘We have $10, who will bid $20?’

‘Give it to him for $10. Let’s see the masters.’

The crowd was becoming angry. They didn’t want the picture of the son.

They wanted the more worthy investments for their collections.

The auctioneer pounded the gavel. ‘Going once, twice, SOLD for $10!’

A man sitting on the second row shouted, ‘Now let’s get on with the collection!’

The auctioneer laid down his gavel. ‘I’m sorry, the auction is over.’

‘What about the paintings?’

‘I am sorry. When I was called to conduct this auction, I was told of a secret stipulation in the will. I was not allowed to reveal that stipulation until this time. Only the painting of the son would be auctioned.. Whoever bought that painting would inherit the entire estate, including the paintings. The man who took the son gets everything!’

God gave His son 2,000 years ago to die on the cross. Much like the auctioneer, His message today is: ‘The son, the son, who’ll take the son?’

Because, you see, whoever takes the Son gets everything..

FOR  GOD SO LOVED THE WORLD HE GAVE HIS ONLY BEGOTTEN  SON, WHO SO EVER BELIEVETH, SHALL HAVE ETERNAL  LIFE…THAT’S LOVE

Take my Son

A wealthy man and his son loved to collect rare works of art. They had everything in their collection, from Picasso to Raphael. They would often sit together and admire the great works of art.

When the Vietnam conflict broke out, the son went to war. He was very courageous and died in battle while rescuing another soldier. The father was notified and grieved deeply for his only son.

About a month later, just before Christmas, there was a knock at the door. A young man stood at the door with a large package in his hands. He said, ‘Sir, you don’t know me, but I am the soldier for whom your son gave his life. He saved many lives that day, and he was carrying me to safety when a bullet struck him in the heart and he died instantly. He often talked about you, and your love for art..’ The young man held out this package. ‘I know this isn’t much.  I’m not really a great artist, but I think your son would have wanted you to have this.’

The Father opened the package. It was a portrait of his son, painted by the young man. He stared in awe at the way the soldier had captured the personality of his son in the painting. The father was so drawn to the eyes that his own eyes welled up with tears. He thanked the young man and offered to pay him for the picture. ‘Oh, no sir, I could never repay what your son did for me. It’s a gift.’

The father hung the portrait over his mantle. Every time visitors came to his home he took them to see the portrait of his son before he showed them any of the other great works he had collected.

The man died a few months later. There was to be a great auction of his paintings. Many influential people gathered, excited over seeing the great paintings and having an opportunity to purchase one for their collection.  On the platform sat the painting of the son. The auctioneer pounded his gavel. ‘We will start the bidding with this picture of the son.. Who will bid for this picture?’

There was silence.

Then a voice in the back of the room shouted, ‘We want to see the famous paintings. Skip this one.’

But the auctioneer persisted. ‘Will somebody bid for this painting? Who will start the bidding? $100…,$200?’

Another voice angrily was heard. ‘We didn’t come to see this painting. We came to see the Van Gogh’s, the Rembrandts. Get on with the real bids!’

But still the auctioneer continued. ‘The son! The  son! Who’ll take the son?’

Finally, a voice came from the very back of the room. It was the longtime gardener of the man and his son. ‘I’ll give $10 for the painting.’ Being a poor man, it was all he could afford.

‘We have $10, who will bid $20?’

‘Give it to him for $10. Let’s see the masters.’

The crowd was becoming angry. They didn’t want the picture of the son.

They wanted the more worthy investments for their collections.

The auctioneer pounded the gavel. ‘Going once, twice, SOLD for $10!’

A man sitting on the second row shouted, ‘Now let’s get on with the collection!’

The auctioneer laid down his gavel. ‘I’m sorry, the auction is over.’

‘What about the paintings?’

‘I am sorry. When I was called to conduct this auction, I was told of a secret stipulation in the will. I was not allowed to reveal that stipulation until this time. Only the painting of the son would be auctioned.. Whoever bought that painting would inherit the entire estate, including the paintings. The man who took the son gets everything!’

God gave His son 2,000 years ago to die on the cross. Much like the auctioneer, His message today is: ‘The son, the son, who’ll take the son?’

Because, you see, whoever takes the Son gets everything..

For God loved the world so much that He gave is one and only son, that whoever believes in Him, will not perish but they will have Eternal Life….That’s real love

G. K. Chesterson Quotes

“When learned men begin to use their reason, then I generally discover that they haven’t got any.”

“It is still bad taste to be an avowed atheist. But now it is equally bad taste to be an avowed Christian.”

“The average businessman began to be agnostic, not so much because he did not know where he was, as because he wanted to forget. Many of the rich took to scepticism exactly as the poor took to drink; because it was a way out.”

A strange fanaticism fills our time: the fanatical hatred of morality, especially of Christian morality.”
G.K. Chesterton

“The atheist is not interested in anything except attacks on atheism.”

Pretty soon everyone is going to have one of these

http://tinyurl.com/na8bgo

I don’t right now but no doubt will have one in the near future, especially if it is jail broken.