Children's Story Archives

Story – A 1940 Miracle

September 27, 2024 by Phyllis Prout

Mrs. Fuller was standing by the telephone in her sunny kitchen, listening intently to the news that was being conveyed over the wire. Her kind, weather-beaten face registered deep concern.

“I’m glad you told me about that poor family, Mrs. Higgins,” she commented after her friend had paused for breath. “I’ll run right over to Aunt Liza’s, and she’ll help me get some clothes and food together for them. You know, every year she cans hundreds of quarts of fruit and vegetables, just so she can have plenty to give away whenever she hears of someone in need. Tell them not to worry; we’ll bring food and clothing.”

Hastily she removed an old sweater from a hook on the wall, slipped it on, tied a scarf over her head, and walked quickly in the direction of her nearest neighbor, Aunt Liza, who lived alone on a five-acre farm. As she neared the modest white cottage, surrounded by colorful flowers, she quickened her steps. She knocked vigorously on the back door, for Aunt Liza was very deaf. After repeated knockings, the door was opened, and there was Aunt Liza’s cheerful face wreathed in smiles, her brown eyes snapping and twinkling.

“Why, Mary Fuller, I’m glad to see you,” she shouted with enthusiasm. “How could you leave your chores so early in the morning?”

By this time, Mrs. Fuller was able to catch her breath.

“I felt I just must run over and tell you about the poor family around the next bend—you know, the ones who live in the auto camp. The father is out of work, and the mother is sick, and they need food and clothing. I knew you would want to know about it.”

Aunt Liza started for the cellar, where she kept her canned food. “Come down and help me put up a box for them right now. I can everything that I don’t sell from this place, and then my son-in-law, who is a manager of a market in the city, brings me all the leftover fruits and vegetables that aren’t sold, and I put them up too, so I can give them to those who need food. I always say it is a sin to let anything go to waste.”

“I don’t see how you do so much, Aunt Liza, when you attend to practically all your farm work.”

“I always say the Lord fits the back to the burden, my dear,” replied Aunt Liza, “and I praise Him daily for giving me strength. I’ll go over to the camp with you and see if I can give the poor woman some treatment. You know, I often get people interested in the Lord.”

This instance is typical of Aunt Liza—always energetic, cheerful, praising God, and thinking of others more than of herself. The fact that she shouts because of her deafness only serves to give her a hearty, enthusiastic manner. She is truly one of God’s saints, a real missionary in her community. She regards God as a friend and takes all her troubles to Him. He rewards her trusting faith and hears her prayers.

One morning Aunt Liza rose early to irrigate her berries, which were soon to be ready for market and which would account for a large part of her income for the year. The water was supplied for her farm by a very fine artesian well. Each farm in this community had its own well, and the farmers were justly proud of the water.

This morning Aunt Liza was happily humming a hymn as she turned the switch of the pump and then went to put on her heavy boots before going into the berry patch. Imagine her surprise and dismay when she returned and found that although the pump was working, no water was coming out of the well. She hastened over to the Fullers’ farm to see if Mr. Fuller could help her, for Aunt Liza had no money to pay a repairman. When she arrived at her neighbor’s farm, she found great excitement there.

“Aunt Liza, do you have water?” inquired Mr. Fuller. “Our well seems to have gone dry.”

“That’s just exactly why I came over to see you,” exclaimed Aunt Liza. “Something has gone wrong with my well, too.”

Inquiry around the neighborhood revealed the fact that all the wells had gone dry, so an expert was called in to investigate the cause. They anxiously awaited his report.

When he inspected Aunt Liza’s well, he said, “Yes, yours is just like the others. The water level in this neighborhood has dropped down much lower than it was formerly, and the only way to get water is to dig your well deeper. Do you wish me to have someone come out to dig yours?”

Aunt Liza’s heart sank. There was no money for this emergency, and her berries needed irrigating immediately. A few days’ delay might seriously injure the crop.

“No,” she replied, “I have no money for that.”

“But what are you going to do for water?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” replied Aunt Liza, “except to do what I always do in cases of emergency. I shall pray to my God about it. I know that He can help me out of this trouble, even as He has helped me in times of trouble in the past.”

The engineer laughed. “I’m afraid you’ll need to do more than pray in this case,” he said skeptically, “for the water just isn’t there anymore. I’m afraid that you don’t understand the gravity of the situation.” He then disconnected the pump at the well, and as he turned to leave, he said, “Well, call me up when you decide what you’re going to do.”

Aunt Liza took her trouble to her Friend, who had never failed her in any crisis. She talked to Him as she would to an earthly friend, whom she could see face to face, and laid the whole burden on Him. That night in a dream she saw an angel standing by her bed. The angel said, “There is water in your well now.”

She awakened immediately after this dream and began to praise and thank God, for Aunt Liza’s faith knew no doubt, and she was confident that the water was now in her well.

The next morning, she called the engineer out to see her. He came, thinking that she was at last ready to make arrangements to have her well dug deeper. However, her first words disillusioned him. She said, “Mr. Nelson, I want you to start my pump.”

Mr. Nelson was alarmed, as he feared that too much worry might have affected his elderly client’s reason. Gently he began to explain the situation again. He said, “There is no use in turning the pump on, madam, as there is no water in the well.”

However, no words of his could change Aunt Liza’s mind, and when she persisted in her request, he decided to turn on the pump to prove that she was wrong. He went out to the well, connected the pump again, and turned it on. Out gushed an abundant stream of water, clear and sparkling.

Thanking the Lord, she exclaimed, “I knew He had answered my prayer!”

The well expert could not speak. Never had he witnessed such a phenomenon. After Aunt Liza had told him of her dream, he replied, “God must have answered your prayer, for this is a miracle. No other well in the neighborhood has water.”

Aunt Liza’s gratitude to her heavenly Father knew no bounds, and she told the story of God’s kindness to all the community. The engineer carried the news to the city hall, and some of the officials came out to investigate. Aunt Liza told each one about her God and how He hears and answers prayer.

Many times, when we read of answered prayer, we think that such experiences came to people long ago or in a mission field far away, but this modern miracle happened in the year 1940, in the western part of the United States.

Story – A Special Birthday

August 29, 2024 by Lynette Golia

Laura had saved a very special present to open last. It was a birthday present from Grandma and Grandpa. They almost always got her a doll, but she had no idea what was in this tiny box. She sat down with her two favorite dolls and opened her last present.

It was a beautiful music box! Laura lifted the top and giggled when she heard the little song.

“What is this?” she asked, as she took a little card out of the box. Two ten-dollar bills fell out! There was also a little note that said:

Dear Laura,

We wanted to buy you a doll, but we didn’t know which one you would like. So this birthday we want you to get a very special doll, one that you can keep for your own little girl.

Love, Grandma and Grandpa

Laura was excited. She knew just which doll she wanted. There was one little girl doll at the toy store that she liked so very much. She looked at the money again and said, “Mom, with this money I can buy two dolls—one for me and one for my best friend Becky.”

“Maybe you should think about that a little more, Laura. Grandma and Grandpa want you to have a very special doll. Maybe you’ll find one.”

“But Mom, if I buy two of them, both Becky and I will have a special doll. She would like to have a new doll, too. The only one she has is one her sister played with.”

“Hi Laura!” called Becky. “May I see your presents?”

Becky and Laura looked at the music box and the other nice gifts.

“Becky, I’m so excited! With my birthday money I can buy two dolls, one for you and one for me. Just think of how special that will be.”

“Well, Laura, I think you should get just one doll, the prettiest one you can find. That’s your birthday money and you should use it for yourself,” said Becky. “We can take turns playing with her. I know you have a favorite doll picked out at the toy store.”

“Come on!” said Laura. “Let’s ask my mom if we can go to the store now.”

Mother agreed.

The best friends skipped along, happy to be together. They looked in the window of the toy store and saw so many wonderful toys—stuffed animals, blocks, puzzles. In one corner of the window was a beautiful baby doll just waiting for a new mother.

“Isn’t she pretty?” gasped Laura. “She must have just come in.”

“She’s adorable!” agreed Becky. “Let’s go in and see if we can hold her.”

Laura picked up the doll and cuddled her. “I’d like to take you home. I’ll call you Baby Sue.”

Laura and Becky took turns carrying Baby Sue around as the two friends looked at all the other dolls in the store. Both agreed that Baby Sue was the most special of all.

“It looks like Baby Sue is the one for you,” said Becky.

Laura smiled at the doll. “I’m going to put you back in your corner, Baby Sue. But maybe I’ll come back for you.”

“Why didn’t you buy Baby Sue, Laura?” asked Becky.

“I want to talk to my mom first,” said Laura, with a twinkle in her eye. “Come on, let’s run home.”

That night Laura and her mother talked a long time about Baby Sue and Becky.

“Mom, Becky is too kind to say she’d like a Baby Sue of her own. But I saw the look in her eye as she held her. Becky has only one worn-out doll. I just wouldn’t be happy playing with Baby Sue, even if I shared her with Becky, because I know Becky would love to have a doll of her own. I wish I could give Becky a Baby Sue … but I would like a Baby Sue, too.”

“Maybe there is a way to solve the problem,” said Mother. “I want to think about it tonight. Let’s pray about it. Now it’s time for sleep. Sweet dreams.”

Laura could see that Mother had a special surprise sparkle in her eyes the next morning but Mother wouldn’t tell her the happy secret.

“Let’s check the toy store today,” said Laura when Becky came over to play that afternoon.

Together the friends skipped to the store. They looked for Baby Sue’s corner in the window and … she wasn’t there!

“Maybe they moved her,” said Becky. “We could look inside.”

Whoosh. They opened the door and ran to the doll section. No Baby Sue!

“She’s gone! I wonder if someone bought her! What will we do now?”

Slowly the two friends walked back to Laura’s house, trying to hold back the tears.

Mother was waiting for the two friends, her eyes sparkling.

“Come in, girls. There’s a surprise in the den,” she said smiling.

“Mother, Baby Sue is gone! She’s not at the toy store!” cried Laura.

“Hmmm,” said Mother, who didn’t sound at all surprised to hear that news.

There were two packages in the corner of the den. They were exactly alike, except one said, “To Becky.” The other one said, “To Laura.”

“Unwrap them together,” Mother said.

Rustle, rustle, rustle. Then no sound at all, not even a breathing sound. Laura lifted a baby doll out of her box. Becky lifted a baby doll out of her box.

“Baby Sue!” said Laura.

“I have a Baby Sue, too!” cried Becky.

Both of the girls giggled with delight.

Now it was Mother’s turn to wipe a tear off her cheek. But it was a happy tear.

“Remember the words of the Lord Jesus, that He said, ‘It is more blessed to give than to receive.’ ” Acts 20:35

“Give, and you will receive. Your gift will return to you in full—pressed down, shaken together to make room for more, running over, and poured into your lap.” Luke 6:38

Story – A Place in Your Heart

July 29, 2024 by Margaret J. Anderson

Miss Ames, Becky’s Sabbath school teacher, had told the children in her class about Jesus. She showed them a picture of Jesus knocking at a door. The door didn’t have a latch or doorknob on the outside. That meant it had to be opened from the inside by the people who lived in the house.

Miss Ames told the children Jesus knocks at their heart’s door in the same way. Then she said that no matter how young they were, they could invite Jesus to come and live in their hearts.

Many of the boys and girls did this. Becky asked Jesus to come into her heart, too.

Yet, because she was so very young, she didn’t quite understand how this could be.

She decided she would ask Daddy. He always explained things so well.

“So that’s what has been troubling you,” Daddy said as he lifted Becky into his lap. “Well, let’s think of it this way. Do you remember when Aunt Grace and Uncle Tom adopted little Tommy?”

Becky nodded.

“Do you remember when we visited them a few months later?”

Becky nodded again.

“One of the first things Aunt Grace said was, ‘We don’t know what we would do without him. He has certainly made a big place for himself in our hearts.’ Now that didn’t mean that Timmy had crawled inside of Aunt Grace’s heart, did it?”

Becky shook her head. She was beginning to understand.

“Then what do you think it meant?”

Becky thought for a while. Then she said, “I think it meant that they loved him a whole lot.”

“That’s right,” Daddy said. “Now this question, do I have a place in your heart, Becky?”

Becky snuggled close to her Daddy.

“You know you do,” she said. Then looking at him slyly, she asked, “And do I have a place in your heart, Daddy?”

“You know you do,” Daddy told her. “You and the Lord Jesus, too.”

Have you ever wondered what it meant to give your heart to Jesus? Have you wondered what it meant to have Him come into your heart? Now you know it really means that you love Him very much.

When Jesus comes into your life, He has an important place in your heart.

“That Christ may live in your hearts by faith [believing love].” Ephesians 3:17

“God has sent the Spirit of His Son into your hearts.” Galatians 4:6

Dear Father above, once again we thank You for sending Your Son to live in our hearts. Keep our hearts clean and pure for Him. In His name we pray. Amen.

Story – Ask in Faith, Nothing Wavering

June 24, 2024 by Lynette Golia

“Welcome” was the simple message read by friend or stranger when he climbed the stone steps that led to the trim cottage on Evans Lane. Everyone who knew those who lived within was aware that it wasn’t just an empty word used to grace the doormat, for many a tired, hungry wayfarer had found the hospitality of this friendly home awaiting them.

It was the bright smile of Myra Davis that most adorned the place. But the mere adornment was not its intent, for she found real joy in sharing her happiness with others. Perhaps the constant care her mother required in her illness had intensified her willingness to brighten life’s drabness in ways that only Myra could.

She it was who washed and starched the fluffy yellow curtains at the kitchen window and baked the flaky apple pies that filled the house with their aroma, which drifted down the lane each Friday morning.

She too had trimmed the shrubbery that lined the walk and trained the scarlet rambler to bend its beauty over the porch near Mother’s window.

Poor Mother, Myra thought, and she sighed as she bent to cut the grass choking the pansies. Her mother’s heart condition had been critically worse of late, but she was extremely patient when her bad spells came. If only she didn’t suffer so! Myra prayed constantly that the Lord would spare Mother pain and not take her suddenly when Myra wasn’t near to bring the relief that Dr. Thomas had provided. With good care Mother would live for years, he had told them; it was only these sudden attacks that were dangerous.

She glanced through the open window to where Mother lay, her ashen face turned toward the light. Her lips were moving, “Myra,” she was whispering, “hurry!”

Dropping the grass shears, Myra ran quickly up the steps, through the kitchen and into the adjoining room. Despite the fact that her mother’s calls had been frequent of late, she felt alarmed as she saw how unusually pale she looked now.

Without hesitation Myra began the routine to which she had become accustomed. She wheeled the oxygen tank from the closet to the bedside, and she carefully adjusted the valve after hurriedly placing the tent over the pale, gasping patient.

In a few moments she sighed in relief, for her mother’s white face had flushed slightly and she was breathing normally. Within an hour Mother had fallen asleep. The tent was removed and the tank returned to the closet.

Later, at sundown, Myra sat by the open window watching the twilight steal across the valley and listening to the woodland concert in the nearby grove of evergreens. A nightingale’s lusty notes all but drowned out the call of a whippoorwill and a brown thrush. From the distance, a great horned owl called gloomily. When the moon rose behind the hill she was still sitting there, watching its silvery beams until they found the brook below the house.

Myra’s reverie was broken by a sudden choking sound. Turning, she switched on the light. Mother was breathing with difficulty again. Quickly, Myra prepared to administer the oxygen again. Turning the handle, she waited for the familiar sound. The silence was ominous. There was no more oxygen!

Myra was terrified. What could she do? The tank had scarcely been used since it had been delivered. Surely it couldn’t have been emptied already.

She tried again. Could it be possible that by mistake the hospital had sent out a tank that was almost empty? The sufferer’s eyes sought hers.

“Just a minute, Mother,” Myra said quietly and then she turned and fled from the bedside.

“Oh heavenly Father,” Myra prayed from the corner of her room, “please help me to know what to do. Send help, Lord, for I cannot leave Mother while she is this way.”

“Mother,” she began, scarcely knowing just what she would say, and surprising herself when she finished the sentence, “you must try to manage without the oxygen for a few minutes. Try to breathe as normally as you can for a while to see if you can strengthen your respiratory system. Will you try?”

Her mother’s eyes closed, and she attempted to nod in reply.

At that moment there was a knock on the door. When Myra opened it, she found their nearest neighbor, Mrs. Parker, standing there. She was attempting to apologize for her late call when the girl all but swept her off her feet in welcome.

“Oh, Mrs. Parker, I am so glad you came. I’ve been praying that someone would! Surely you are the answer to that prayer,” and she dabbed the corner of her eye with the hem of her apron while she told the older woman what had happened.

Mrs. Parker suggested she call the police emergency squad at once, because the hospital ambulance was usually out on call. The telephone operator supplied the number, and the police promised to send immediate aid.

Myra returned to her mother’s room and knelt by the bed. The gasps were coming more quickly now. The suffering eyes looked imploringly into her own.

“Now,” the woman choked, looking at the gauge.

Calmly, Myra placed the tent in its proper position and turned on the valve. There was no sound.

“Father, all things are in Thy hands,” she prayed silently as she bowed by her mother’s side.

Suddenly a radiant glow seemed to fill the room. Was there a heavenly hand upon her shoulder? A voice whispered, “When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee.”

The girl was trembling. Surely she was in the very presence of a divine being. She had done all that she could; now heaven had sent aid that no human being could give. All fear vanished, and she raised her head in grateful adoration.

The light was gone, but her mother lay resting quietly. The oxygen was flowing freely into the tent!

It was nearly half an hour later when the new supply of oxygen was brought from the local hospital and replaced the empty tank that had so miraculously provided life for Mrs. Davis.

Myra stood at the window watching Mrs. Parker disappear down the moonlit lane until she was lost in the shadows of the night.

“Surely,” she said softly, “God does work in mysterious ways His wonders to perform!”

Story – Being a Friend

May 23, 2024 by Lynette Golia

“Time to go!” Mom called up the stairs to the girls. Twelve-year-old Angela sighed and picked up her black and white striped backpack. They were going on a trip to Ohio. Their family was planning to move to Ohio, and they wanted to visit the church that they planned to attend there.

“What are you thinking Angela?” asked her older sister Susanne. They had been driving for a few hours and almost everyone else was sleeping.

“I’m not sure,” admitted Angela. “I think that I’m excited, but I’m also sad about leaving my friends at home.”

“Don’t worry,” said Susanne. “I wrote to one of the girls from the church there and she said there are quite a few girls your age. I’m sure you’ll find friends pretty fast.”

Angela nodded and yawned. “I’m sure you’re right,” she said.

“I think you should take a nap now,” Susanne said.

Angela yawned again. “Maybe I should.” She pulled out her pillow and was soon fast asleep.

She awoke just as Mom was getting sandwiches out of the cooler for lunch.

The afternoon passed slowly as she and her siblings played the ABC game and worked on the scavenger hunt Susanne made for them. A little before supper time, they arrived at the folks’ place where they were planning to stay for the night.

The next morning, they went to church. Angela shyly followed Mom and Susanne into the sanctuary. She saw some girls who looked about her age. After church was over, she stood next to Mom while she talked with the other ladies. As she looked around, she saw a group of girls her age gathered in the back of the sanctuary. They were talking and laughing, but none of them came and talked with her. Every once in a while, she saw them look over at her. Angela felt funny. Why didn’t they come to talk to her, she thought. She felt a little sad, standing there all alone beside Mom.

After a while, Dad was ready to go. Angela picked up her Bible and followed Mom out to the van.

“How did you like this church?” asked Dad.

“I really like it,” said Susanne.

“So do I,” said Angela’s brothers.

“What about you, Angela?” asked Dad.

Angela’s lips quivered. “I didn’t like it. The girls were all standing in the back, talking and laughing and glancing over at me, but no one came to talk to me.”

“Maybe the next time we come, I can help you make some friends,” encouraged Mom. “And always remember, when there’s a new girl in church, go talk to her. If you’re scared to, remember how you felt today.” Mom smiled at Angela.

Angela smiled back. “I’ll try,” she said.

Several years later, Angela was sitting in church beside Susanne when she saw a new family walk in and sit down. They had a girl who looked just her age. After church, Angela and her friends gathered in the back of the sanctuary like they usually did. Suddenly, Angela remembered what Mom had told her when they had visited, and no one talked to her.

“I’m going to talk to that new girl,” she told her friends. “It’s not fun to see a group of girls talking together and no one comes to talk to you.” Angela went and talked to her and pretty soon she had a new friend! Angela decided that Mom’s advice was always worth following.

The Heartbeat of the Remnant, by Marian Martin, Vol. 31, Issue 3, 16

“A man who has friends must be a friend, but there is a Friend who stays nearer than a brother.” Proverbs 18:24 NLV. You can be friendly to others so they don’t feel alone. But if you ever feel alone there is a Friend who will always be true and will never leave you, and that Friend is Jesus.

Story – Sin Stinks

April 30, 2024 by Judy Rebarchek

Years ago, my husband and I had two dogs, Dixie and Chuck. Neither of them were purebreds and both were rescue dogs. While Dixie was the smaller dog, she was what we call the alpha dog—the boss. Together those two got into all sorts of adventures.

Both Dixie and Chuck had been trained not to chase or harm any other animal or bird in any way, and they obeyed this directive to a tee, with one exception. For a reason known only to her, Dixie loved skunks. Being the boss, Dixie led the way in their adventures and this included the occasional run-in with the skunks that lived in the pasture around our house.

We lived in the country, about a quarter of a mile north of a section of the Chikaskia River. Dixie and Chuck loved playing in the river, which was only ever about six to eight inches deep except for a handful of times in the five or six years we lived there when it flooded.

Many Sabbath afternoons, we would take the path mowed through the waist-high grasses down to the river to watch the dogs play in the water and fetch the sticks we threw for them.

One such Sabbath, we were headed back to the house when I heard my husband say quietly to me, “Run.” I wasn’t sure that I heard him, so I said, “What?” He repeated, a bit more urgently, “Run.”

I said, “Why?” He was already backing up the path away from me and pointing behind me. I turned just in time to see a skunk emerging from the grass with Dixie headed right for it. I yelled, “Dixie! No!” But Dixie wasn’t listening. She had to meet this new friend and she ran right up to the skunk as it turned around and raised its tail. I yelled for Chuck to come, and turned to run just as Dixie’s nose went right to that skunk’s tail. And with a resounding yelp, Dixie backpedaled away from that skunk very quickly.

When surprised or feeling threatened, skunks defend themselves by spraying a foul-smelling chemical that can cause irritation, temporary blindness, violent sickness, and a runny nose. It is strong enough that it can ward off bears and other potential attackers. But here’s the part about skunk spray that made it not only bad for Dixie, but for all of us. Skunk spray and smell can travel in the air as far as 3.5 miles downwind. While the wind that day wasn’t blowing hard, it was blowing straight toward us. My husband, Chuck and I ran as fast as we could to get inside the house, leaving Dixie to fend for herself.

When things had calmed down, we went out to give Dixie what had become a regular occurrence—a bath with some special, heavy-duty shampoo supplied by our vet to remove the smell.

You know, that experience, and the many others that followed for Dixie (because she never did give up her liking for skunks), is a lot like us and sin. Because of our sinful nature, we are attracted to the devil and seem to think that he is our friend, but, my sweet children, he is not. He tempts us to do wrong and when we give in, he just tempts us again and again. And the more we give in, the more sin fills our lives and covers every part of us until we are enveloped in the stink of sin.

But, there is a remedy. Just like we were able to use that special shampoo to get that horrible smell off Dixie, Jesus can cleanse us and remove the stink of sin.

David once did some very bad things, and all he could sense of himself was the stink of sin. So he prayed, “Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean; wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow. … Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me.” Psalm 51:7, 10

And Revelation 7:14 tells us that God’s people won’t be stinky with sin when He comes to take them to heaven because they will have been washed clean. “These are the ones who come out of great tribulation, and washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb.”

I have a great many favorite songs and one of them is titled Are You Washed in the Blood? I’m sharing the words on the right.

Remember, the devil is not your friend. But if you forget or even purposely give in to his temptations and you start to stink of sin, just go to the fountain flowing with the cleansing blood of Jesus and He will wash you, clean you right up, and make you one of His children.

The next time you smell something really bad, say to yourself, “I don’t want to smell stinky with sin, so I’m going to ask Jesus to always help me to do what is right and to remember that the devil is not my friend and that sin stinks.”

Have you been to Jesus for the cleansing pow’r?

Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb?

Are you fully trusting in His grace this hour?

Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb?

Are you walking daily by the Saviour’s side?

Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb?

Do you rest each moment in the Crucified?

Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb?

Lay aside the garments that are stained with sin,

And be washed in the blood of the Lamb;

There’s a fountain flowing for the soul unclean,

O be washed in the blood of the Lamb.

Are you washed in the blood,

In the soul-cleansing blood of the Lamb?

Are your garments spotless?

Are they white as snow?

Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb?

Story – The Wrong Way

March 26, 2024 by Lynette Golia

Lisa could hardly wait. It seemed like school would never end. The last day before summer vacation always seemed like such a long day, but at last it was over, and as she hurried home from school her eyes were sparkling with excitement.

Summer vacation always meant a trip to the cottage for Lisa and her family, and this year would be no exception. Mother had been working hard all week washing, ironing, and packing for her large family, and tomorrow they would leave on the long drive to their cottage by the lake.

Lisa’s father and mother loved the Lord Jesus, and they often told their children of the love of God in sending His Son, Jesus, to die on the cross to shed His blood for their sins. They also frequently showed their love for Jesus by the kind things they did for others.

This year they had thoughtfully invited Aunt Ellen to go along with them to their cottage. Aunt Ellen had a married daughter who lived near their cottage, and they knew she would enjoy a visit with her daughter. So although Lisa’s family was large, they decided they could make room for one more in their van.

Very early the next morning the van loaded with the family plus Aunt Ellen started out on the long drive. At first everyone was excited, but as hour after hour went by, the children and their parents became drowsy in the warm van. It was then that Aunt Ellen saw a way she could be helpful.

“Let me drive for a while,” she suggested, “while you get some sleep. Then when you’ve had a nap you can drive again.”

They pulled the van over to the side of the road and changed drivers, and soon they were on their way again. Aunt Ellen was a good driver, so it wasn’t long before Lisa’s parents were sound asleep.

Aunt Ellen smiled as she drove along. She was looking forward to seeing her daughter and son-in-law, and she was thankful to have the chance to help out a bit by driving.

Suddenly she frowned. The road signs showed that she would have to make a decision in a mile or two as to which highway she should take, and she just wasn’t sure which was the right road. She glanced at Lisa’s parents; they were both sound asleep. She’d rather not waken them. So she chose what she thought was the right road, and kept on driving.

God tells us in His word, the Bible, that “there is a way which seemeth right unto a man; but the end thereof are the ways of death.” Proverbs 14:12. He also tells us in John 14:6, “Jesus saith … I am the way.” The way to what? The way to heaven. Aunt Ellen needed to know the way to the cottage, but even more importantly, we need to know the way to heaven.

Aunt Ellen kept on driving, glancing anxiously at the highway signs and hoping they were on the right road. On and on she went.

Finally Lisa’s daddy yawned, stretched and said, “Thanks, Ellen. That sleep felt good. Now I’m ready to drive again. By the way, just where are we?”

“I’m not sure,” she replied. “I think we’re on the right road, but I’m not positive.”

A quick check of the road map showed that not only were they on the wrong road, but they had gone miles and miles in the wrong direction. Now they would have to spend more hours getting back to the right road, and it would be late evening before they would reach the cottage. Poor Aunt Ellen. She had tried to be helpful, but she had delayed everyone by taking the wrong road.

Boys and girls, are you sure you are on the right road to heaven? Maybe you’ve been given the wrong directions. Have you been told to “Be good,” or “Do good,” or “Go to church” to get to heaven? Those roads will never lead you to heaven.

Perhaps you think you know the right way and are trying with no map and no guide to get to heaven on your own. If so, you will only end up like Lisa’s family—on the wrong road.

The Bible, tells us there is only one way to heaven, and that is through faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. He said “I am the way,” and His death on the cross and His blood shed there make the way to heaven open to all of us who will accept Him. Will you accept Him and ask forgiveness for your sins today? Then you will know for sure that you are on your way to heaven.

WholesomeWords.org from Messages of God’s Love published by Bible Truth Publishers.

Obedience or Sacrifice?

February 22, 2024 by Lynette Golia

“I wish I had lived in those times,” exclaimed Henry Sharp, a rather enthusiastic boy, as he finished reading the account of the death of Latimer and Ridley.

“Why?” inquired Mr. Severn, his tutor.

“Because I should like to have been a martyr,” replied Henry slowly; “it seems such a glorious thing to die for what you believe to be right.”

The opinion did not seem to be in the least shared by his school fellows, who showed their astonishment and dissent by various gestures; some were ready to laugh, and looked towards the master, with faces expressive of their ideas of their own superior wisdom, and anticipating the rebuke that was to fall upon their comrade.

But Mr. Severn was not a man to judge things hastily, or to pronounce a remark silly, so he said quietly: “Do you really think so, Henry? Do you believe that you would have courage and firmness to submit to the severe and often lingering agonies which those persecuted men endured?”

“Of course I can’t be sure that I should, sir,” replied Henry; “but it seems to me that the thought of gaining heaven must be enough to sustain anyone in ever so much pain.”

“I can sympathize with your feelings,” continued Mr. Severn, “for I remember that as a boy I, too, had the same idea; but as I grew older and was able to better understand the state of my own heart, I came to the conclusion that I was deceiving myself.

“I found out, in examining myself, that in longing for martyrdom as a means of gaining heaven, I was unconsciously looking upon that pain and suffering as more easy to bear than the yoke which Christ has laid upon us. Or to express myself more simply, I was really thinking that I would rather submit to a cruel death than struggle daily and hourly to live as Jesus would have me live. While I was wishing to give the strongest proof of my love to God, I was really shrinking from the service He had appointed to me, and trying to find an easier way for myself.

“I cannot of course tell what you feel,” continued Mr. Severn; “I only give you my own experience to guide you; but I must add further caution—martyrdom is not a certain means of entering heaven.”

“Not certain!” exclaimed several of his hearers, and Henry looked particularly astonished.

“I admit,” answered Mr. Severn, “that it is difficult to imagine a man, who did not have a firm and saving faith in his Saviour, would be willing to die for his religion; but we have Paul’s own testimony to guide us: ‘Though I give my body to be burned, and have not charity, it profiteth me nothing.’ ”

“Many have tried to find out paths that please them better than God’s narrow way. You remember the history of Naaman the Syrian. He went to Elisha to be cured of his leprosy, and was willing, as subsequent events proved, to do a great deal to be cured of his fearful and loathsome malady; but when the prophet sent out the message to him to go and dip seven times in the river Jordan, the very simplicity of the means to be employed offended him. If he had been told to undertake some weary pilgrimage, to go through some painful sufferings, no doubt he would have submitted cheerfully; but his pride rebelled against washing in the river Jordan. Nay, even if he must be cured by washing, why not let it be the mightier streams of his own land, Abana and Pharpar, rivers of Damascus! Thus he argued; anything rather than what God’s prophet appointed. And we are very much like Naaman. Sin is like leprosy, and when we ask to be cured of it, we are told that there is but one means—to wash in the fountain that is opened for all sin and for all uncleanness, to rely for cleansing upon the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world. Human pride revolts against this, and would prefer a salvation which left man to ‘do some great thing’ for himself, and did not merely place him in the purifying stream humbly and confidingly like a little child.

“We must not deceive ourselves but try and forget such fancies for doing some great thing, and endeavor instead to do the everyday duties that are before us. So many more are called upon to perform such deeds, than to do great things, that I believe they are fully pleasing in the sight of God, when done from a simple desire to His glory. We do His will in striving to perform our daily duties, however trivial and simple, as He would have them done; and in believing that, let them be what they will, it is noble work, because it is what He has given us to do. In the Bible, how many instances we have of those who have employed their talents well, receiving more; of men called to greater honors, or more extensive labor, when they were simply employed in attending to their everyday concerns.

“A shepherd guarding his father-in-law’s flock upon Mount Horeb; a voice comes to him, and he is called to confront a powerful king—to free, by signs and wonders, an enslaved people from his unwillingly relaxed grasp—to become the leader and lawgiver of this rescued nation, and to be a favored servant of God.

“Another youth, also employed in keeping sheep; the prophet sent to his father’s house, sees all his brothers, but does not find among them the chosen of the Lord. This youngest is then sent for from his humble occupation, and upon his head is poured the anointing oil, and into his heart the sanctifying grace, which gains for him that glorious title, ‘The man after God’s own heart.’

“Another man plowing with twelve yoke of oxen; Israel’s great prophet passes by and casts his mantle upon him, calling him to be his successor; yes, even to receive a double portion of the Spirit which rested upon him, and he had stood fearless and alone on the side of God among the multitudes of Baal’s prophets and the prophets of the groves.

“Where was Matthew when Jesus called him? At the receipt of custom. Where were Peter, James, and John? Fishing. Where was Gideon when he was called to be a judge of Israel? Threshing wheat. But I need not repeat any more examples; those I have quoted are sufficient to point out what I mean.”

“I suppose my wish was a very foolish one,” said Henry, “and I

have been deceiving myself as you suspected. I have not looked at things in the light you represent them. The view you have would make us more contented with our lot, however humble. It certainly would cause us to feel more interest in our daily duties to think that they are a part of God’s work upon earth.”

“It does indeed” answered Mr. Severn. “Omitting the obvious duties we have been given to do, in the hope of being given a grander duty is a poor way of showing obedience to God. You might think it a greater merit, but it would not be what He has given you to do. The continual sense of our being about God’s work, and of His eye seeing us, gives importance and worth to all we have to do.”

Do you feel, like Henry, that it would be a more glorious thing to make some great sacrifice, rather than to yield your will in very trivial matters, or to submit to the discipline of parents and teachers? Do not forget that “to obey is better than sacrifice.”

Story – Timour and the Ant

January 29, 2024 by Lynette Golia

Timour was a famous chief in Asia. His enemies were on his track. If they caught him, they were going to kill him. To save his life, he hid in a lonely building in the wilderness. He was sad and discouraged. It seemed to him that his load was heavier than he could bear. He did not know what to do. He felt like giving up in despair.

As he sat in the rude hut looking at the bare walls, he saw a little ant trying to carry a grain of wheat up the wall. The wheat was larger than the ant. It seemed too heavy for the tiny insect to pull up the steep wall.

Timour watched the little worker. Up the wall it slowly struggled with its heavy load. It had not gone far when the grain of wheat fell to the floor. Quickly the little ant came down the wall. It seized the wheat and started up again. But the load was too heavy, and again it dropped back to the floor.

Was the ant discouraged? Oh, no! Down it came again for its prize. Time after time the load proved too much for the little creature. Sixty-nine times he watched the determined little ant return to its task. But the seventieth time it carried its load successfully!

“I was in despair,” said the chief, “but the plucky little ant gave me new courage, and I have never forgotten the noble lesson it taught me.”

The Bible says, “Go to the ant, thou sluggard; Consider her ways, and be wise.”

Story – A Boy Who Was Wanted

January 1, 2024 by Lynette Golia

“Well, I found out one thing,” said Jack, as he came to his mother. He was hot, tired, and dusty.

“What is that?” she asked.

“That there are a great many boys in the world.”

“Didn’t you know that before?”

“Partly; but I didn’t know there were so many more boys than are wanted.”

“Why do you think there are more than are wanted?”

“Because I have been ’round and ’round till I am worn out, trying to find a place to work. Wherever I go, there are more boys than places. Doesn’t that show that there are too many boys?”

“Not exactly,” said his mother, with a smile. “It depends entirely on the kind of boy. An honest, dependable boy is always wanted somewhere.”

“Well, if I am that boy, I wish that I knew that I was wanted.”

“Patience, patience, my boy. In such a great world as this is, with so many places and so many boys, it is no wonder some of them do not find their places at once. But be sure, dear,” as she laid her hand on his arm, “that every boy who wants a chance to do fair, honest work will find it.”

“That’s the kind of work I want to do,” said Jack. “I don’t want anybody’s money for nothing. Let me see, what have I to offer? All the schooling and all the wits I have been able to get up in thirteen years; good, stout hands, and a civil tongue.”

“And a mind and heart set on doing faithful duty,” suggested his mother.

“I hope so,” said Jack. “I remember Father used to say: ‘Just as soon as you undertake to work for anyone, you must bear in mind that you have sold yourself for the given time. Your time, your strength, your energy, are his, and your best efforts to seek his interests in every way are his due.’ ”

The earnest tone in which the boy spoke seemed to give assurance that he would pay good heed to the words of the father whose counsel could no more reach him.

For two or three days longer Jack had reason to hold his opinion that there were more boys than the world wanted, at the end of which time he met a businessman who, questioning him closely, said, “There are a great many applications for the place, but a large number of the boys come and stay a short time, and then leave if they think they can do a little better. When a boy gets used to our route and customers, we want him to stay. If you will agree to stay at least three years, we will agree to pay you three dollars a week as errand boy.”

“That is just what I wanted to do, sir,” said Jack, eagerly. So he was installed, and proud enough he was to bring his wages home every week, and realize that, small as they were, the regular help was of great value to his mother.

It is not to be wondered at that the faithful carrying out of his father’s admonition after a while attracted the attention not only of his employers, but of others with whom he was brought in contact in the pursuit of his duties. One day he was asked into the office of Mr. Lang, a gentleman to whom he frequently carried parcels of value.

“Have you ever thought of changing your situation?” asked Mr. Lang.

“No, sir,” said Jack.

“Perhaps you could do better,” said the other. “I want a boy who is quick and intelligent, and who can be relied on; and, from what I see of you, I think you are that sort of boy. I want you to drive a delivery wagon, and will pay you five dollars a week.”

Jack’s eyes opened wide.

“It is wonderfully good pay for a boy like me, I am sure. But I promised to keep on with Mr. Hill for three years, and the second year is only just begun.”

“Well, have you signed a regular agreement with Mr. Hill?”

“No, sir; I told him I would stay.”

“You have a mother to assist, you told me. Could you not tell Mr. Hill that you feel obliged to do better, when you have a chance?”

“I don’t believe I could,” said Jack, looking with his straight, frank gaze into the gentleman’s face. “You see, sir, if I broke my word with him, I should not be the kind of boy to be relied on that you want.”

“I guess you are about right,” said Mr. Lang, with a sigh. “Come and see me when your time is out; I dare say I shall want you then.”

Jack went home very much stirred by what had been said to him.

After all, could it be wrong to go where he would do so much better? Was it not really his duty to accept the position? He could then drive the wagon instead of trudging wearily along the streets. They had never felt so hot and dusty as they did just now, when he might escape from the tiresome routine. Might, but how? —By the sacrifice of his pledged word; by selling his truth and his honor. So strongly did the reflection force itself upon him that when he told his mother of the offer he had received, he merely added, “It would be a grand good thing if I could take it, wouldn’t it, Mother?”

“Yes, it would. Some boys would change without thinking of letting a promise stand in their way, but that is the kind of boy who, sooner or later, is not wanted. It is because you have not been that sort of boy that you are wanted now.”

Jack worked away, doing such good work, as he became more and more accustomed to the situation, that his mother sometimes wondered that Mr. Hill, who seemed always kindly interested in him, never appeared to think of raising his pay. This, however, was not Mr. Hill’s way of doing things, even though he showed an increasing disposition to trust Jack with important business.

So the boy trudged through the three years, at the end of them having been trusted far more than is usually the case with errand boys. He had never forgotten the offer made by Mr. Lang, and one day, meeting that gentleman on the street, ventured to remind him that his present engagement was nearly out, adding, “You spoke to me about driving the wagon, sir.”

“Ah, so I did; but you are older now and worth more. Call around and see me.”

One evening, soon after, Jack lingered in Mr. Hill’s office after the other errand boys had been paid and had gone away.

“My three years are up tonight, sir,” he said.

“Yes, they are,” said Mr. Hill.

“Will you give me a recommendation to someone else, sir?”

“Well, I will, if you are sure that you want to leave me.”

“I did not know that you wanted me to stay, but”—he hesitated, and then went on— “my mother is a widow, and I feel as if I ought to do the best I can for her, and Mr. Lang told me to call on him.”

“Has Mr. Lang ever made you an offer?”

Jack told him what Mr. Lang had said nearly two years before.

“Why didn’t you go then?” asked Mr. Hill.

“Because I had promised to stay with you; but you wouldn’t blame me for trying to better myself now?”

“Not a bit of it. Are you tired of running errands?”

“I’d rather ride than walk,” said Jack with a smile.

“I think it is about time you were doing better than either. Perhaps you think that you have been doing this faithful work for me through these years for next to nothing; but if so, you are mistaken. You have been doing better work than merely running errands. You have been serving an apprenticeship to trust and honesty. I know you now to be a straightforward, reliable boy, and it takes time to learn that. It is your capital, and you ought to begin to realize it. You may talk to Mr. Lang if you wish, but I will give you a place in the office, with a salary of six hundred dollars for the first year, with the prospect of a raise after that.”

Jack did not go to see Mr. Lang, but straight to his mother, with a shout and a bound.

“You’re right, you’re right, Mother!” he cried. “No more hard work for you, Mother. I’m wanted, you see, wanted enough to get good pay! All the hardest part is over.”