God's Plan of Salvation

God's Plan of Salvation

Step 1: Hear the Gospel and Recognize Your Condition

You must hear the gospel and then understand and recognize that you are lost without Jesus Christ no matter who you are and no matter what your background is. The Bible tells us that “all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God.” (Romans 3:23) Before you can be saved, you must understand that you are lost and that the only way to be saved is by obedience to the gospel of Jesus Christ. (2 Thessalonians 1:8) Jesus said, “I am the way, the truth, and the life: no man cometh unto the Father, but by me.” (John 14:6) “Neither is there salvation in any other: for there is none other name under heaven given among men, whereby we must be saved.” (Acts 4:12)

When Your Heart is Breaking By Tom Norvell

When Your Heart is Breaking
by
Tom Norvell
Question: "Can you die of a broken heart?"

Answer: "I don't know, but there are times when your heart is breaking that you wish you could die! It would be easier than enduring the pain."
Some hearts break because of unfulfilled love. Some hearts break due to unfulfilled dreams. Some hearts break because of the loss of a child, the loss of a parent, the loss of a friend, or the loss of a mate. Some hearts break when others are hurting and there is nothing that can be done to help them or to ease their pain. Jesus expressed this as described by Matthew, "When he saw the crowds, he had compassion on them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd" (Matthew 9:36).
When your heart is breaking, you want help. You long for relief. You long for someone who can fix it. Ron Peltzman's little children's book, "Mr. Bell's Fix It Shop," is the story of Mr. Bell, a man who could fix just about anything, "Even a broken heart."
In Michael Card's song, "I Will Not Walk Away," these words speak the thoughts of a broken heart:
Don't read me pointless poems friend.
Don't diagnose. Don't condescend.
Though you may be right to disagree.
I need someone to weep with me.
When your heart is breaking, that is what we want, isn't it? We want to know that someone can fix this. When it cannot be fixed, we want to know that someone is there to weep with us. We don't always want explanations, even though we may ask for them. We don't need another book to read, or another famous quote, or another story that proves "You are not the only one who has ever had a broken heart." We need someone to weep with us. We need someone to comfort us.
He binds up the brokenhearted.Job had that from his three friends ... for awhile:
Then they sat on the ground with him for seven days and seven nights. No one said a word to him, because they saw how great his suffering was (Job 2:13).
Unfortunately, for Job, they started talking.
Your heart may be breaking today. You may have spent the night weeping. You may be longing for someone to come sit and weep with you. You may be crying out to the Lord for help because you feel like a sheep without a shepherd.
I do not promise a Mr. Bell who can fix anything. I cannot promise that well-intentioned friends won't share "pointless poems" and useless platitudes. But I do promise that you can cry out to the Lord and that when you cry out you will be heard. And, I promise that the One who hears is close and will provide you the comfort you need.
The righteous cry out, and the Lord hears them;he delivers them from all their troubles.The Lord is close to the brokenheartedand saves those who are crushed in spirit(Psalm 34:17-18 NIV).
Jesus said the following passage referred to Him:
The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is on me, because the Lord has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners, to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor and the day of vengeance of our God, to comfort all who mourn, and provide for those who grieve in Zion — to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair. They will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the Lord for the display of his splendor (Isaiah 61:1-3 NIV).
When your heart is breaking, cry out to the One who hears and binds up the brokenhearted. If your heart is breaking, cry out to the One who is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.

A Jesus For Real Men

A Jesus for Real Men.
By
Mike Cope

I have to admit: I get weary of the modern “masculinity movement” in the church that wants people to rediscover the REAL Jesus — the Jesus who’d love to kick your butt.
It gets as silly as this. The parody is silly, but so is the interview it’s based on. (”The problem in the church today: it’s just a bunch of nice, soft, tender chickified churchboys. Sixty percent of Christians are chicks, and the forty percent that are dudes are still sort of chicks.” Ummm, speak for yourself, Pastor Driscoll.)
The best thing I’ve read on men and the church recently was this article in Christianity Today by Brandon O’Brien entitled: “A Jesus for Real Men: What the New Masculinity Movement Gets Right and Wrong.”
Listen to some of this brilliant, gospel-formed writing:
“The masculinity movement would have us emulate the glorified Jesus — the one who will return on horseback and brandish the sword of judgment. That is certainly the Jesus we worship. But it is not the Jesus we are commanded to imitate. The only times Jesus appears in Scripture as a warrior are in his pre-incarnate debuts in the Old Testament and post-resurrection glory. Our model of behavior, then, is the suffering Son, not the glorified one. Humanity in the image of Christ is not aggressive and combative; it is humble and poor (Phil. 2:5ff). We are most like Christ not when we win a fight, but when we suffer for righteousness’ sake (Eph. 5:1-2; 1 Thess. 1:6; 2:14).”

Something to think and pray about this week

You remember that story of the siege of Toledo in the Spanish Civil war. The starving garrison inside the fortress was commanded by Colonel Moscardó. The besieging army telephoned the Colonel, ‘We have captured your son. We will shoot him unless you surrender'. Moscardó asked to speak to his son on the phone. When the boy came, his father spoke only two words, ‘Muere bien (Die well).' Of all we have to do in this life, here is the hardest task, to die well. The thousands of deaths we see on television do not prepare us to see it as a task at all. Death is often presented as the ultimate failure in dramas that flood our screens. But the most comforting memories of my years as a priest are of the people who showed me what it was to die well. In a New York hospital I was called to an old Irishman. He was worn out by a life of hard work on the docks, and he knew he was dying. Alone in the harsh city, he had drifted, rather than moved, away from the church. He was so overwhelmed by joy at finding an Irish priest, and receiving the last sacraments, that both of us were weeping. He could remember the Hail Mary, and as his strength ebbed away, he kept repeating with total contentment, ‘Pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death.' Many of his generation saw death in Ireland (‘bás in Éireann') as a blessing. He had the next best thing.

Dear Jesus, as I call on you today I realise that I often come asking for favours.Today I'd like just to be in your presence.Let my heart respond to Your Love.

Genesis 1:1-10

In the beginning You created the heavens and the earth. When the earth was formless and empty, and darkness was over the surface of the deep, Your Spirit hovered over the face of the waters. And You said, "Let there be light," and there was light. Then You said, "Let there be an expanse in the midst of the waters, and let it separate the waters from the waters." So You made the expanse and separated the waters under the expanse from the waters above it, and it was so. Then You said, "Let the waters under the heavens be gathered into one place, and let dry ground appear"; and it was so. And You saw that it was good. (Genesis 1:1-10)

Well done, good and faithful servant

As for me and my househol! d, we will serve the Lord. (Joshua 24:15)

By Your grace, I want to hear the words, “Well done, good and faithful servant; you have been faithful with a few things; I will put you in charge of many things. Enter into the joy of your Lord.” (Matthew 25:21)

2 Corinthians 9:10

Now he who supplies seed to the sower and bread for food will
also supply and increase your store of seed and will enlarge the
harvest of your righteousness.
-- 2 Corinthians 9:10

The Quarter Remembrance By Mike Cope

The Quarter of Remembrance by Mike Cope (reprinted)
I actually got to meet Dr. Channing Barrett, though I don’t remember the meeting because I was too young. But that doesn’t change my picture of him as a young man walking a marathon of miles every weekend. In my mind, I see him returning home to Blissfield, Michigan around the turn of the century.
Channing Barrett was one of eight boys and was the first ever in the Barrett family to go to college. From his medical school, he walked twenty-five miles home each weekend, always returning a couple days later with clean clothes, a food packet, and a dollar.
Dr. Barrett became one of the first ob-gyns in Chicago, practicing at Cook County Hospital. He was known widely both for his innovative surgical techniques and for his ambidextrous skills that allowed him to change hands during long procedures.
There was no patient whom he wouldn’t accept. He delivered many “tenement babies” for fifty cents and many babies for the wives of Mafia dons for a good bit more!
With a growing, respected medical practice, a wonderful wife, and three children, this young physician seemed to be living the idyllic life. He enjoyed riding horses and lifting weights, and was an early member of the Polar Bear Society–that “unique” group that takes to the chilly waters of Lake Michigan in January each year to prove–well, who knows what they’re trying to prove?
And then World War I interrupted this Norman Rockwell life. Dr. Barrett left Chicago to run a field hospital in France, followed shortly by his 17-year-old son, who fought in the trenches.
As long as he could, Barrett sent money back to his wife and daughters. But by the last year of the war, his funds were nearly exhausted. He had no more to mail home. Mrs. Barrett sold most of what they owned, trying desperately to keep her daughters fed and clothed without having to lose their house.
By the time Christmas rolled around in 1918, there were no presents to place under the tree. They were lucky to have a place to live.
But Mrs. Barrett had managed, despite all the financial scrimping, to save two quarters. So on Christmas morning, when the girls emptied their stockings, under the paper dolls their mother had cut out for them and under a couple pieces of candy, they each found a coin.
Previous Christmas mornings had been more lavish, filled with frilly dresses and expensive toys. And there would be more such mornings in the future. But this was the Christmas the family would always remember.
In the future, even during the years of plenty, when the girls emptied their stockings, they always found–under the apples, oranges, nuts, and candy–a quarter.
It was a reminder–a reminder that some years are good while others aren’t too good. Some years deliver new babies, promotions, raises, and great promises. Other years offer sickness, failure, death, and deep disappointment.
The quarter reminded them about both possibilities. It warned them not to write off all the pain of the past as if it didn’t exist. It taught them that the sorrows and wounds of their lives had shaped their characters as much as their joys and accomplishments.
Anyone who takes seriously the Christmas stories of scripture knows that the first Christmas had more than angels, shepherds, wise men, and a mother nursing her baby. There was also the anguish of childbirth. There were the pungent, impolite odors of an animal pen. There was an old man who held the baby and told his mother, “A sword will pierce your own soul too.” There were the voices of many mothers screaming for their baby boys being slaughtered by a demented ruler named Herod. There was a breathless escape to Egypt.
The entrance of God’s Son into the world meant peace–but it didn’t assure that people would get along. It meant great joy–but it didn’t mean we’d always be happy. And it meant unconditional love–though it never implied that everyone would act lovingly.
And so one family, year after year, continued dropping a quarter of remembrance into the bottom of each child’s stocking.
At least one of Channing Barrett’s children picked up that tradition. Every year through the ’30s, ’40s, and ’50s, her five children, Dr. Barrett’s grandchildren, pulled their stockings off the chimney on Christmas morning to find quarters buried under fruit, nuts, and candy.
And at least one of those five passed it on to her four children. And at least one of those four is passing it on to his children.
The quarter has mysteriously tied this family together–binding even generations who never met. Together they have remembered that bad year in 1918 and other bad years since.- One year brought the safe birth of a new nephew; another brought the self-inflicted death of a relative who couldn’t keep fighting the demons of his life;- One year brought the thrilling news from the gynecologist that a baby was on the way; another brought the news from the pediatrician that the baby wasn’t developing right;- Some years brought joy; others brought deep, deep pain.
The quarter is a remembrance that the meaning of Christmas is deeper than our triumphs and sorrows. It is a joy that can’t fully be expressed, a peace that passes understanding.
For years my children have followed this tradition started by their Great, Great Grandmother Barrett. Together, we’ve experienced the love of God, woven through the fabric of good days and dark days.
Eleven Christmases ago the quarter represented a burden that was crushing our hearts. Not long before Christmas of 1994 our ten-year-old daughter, Megan, took her last breath in the pediatric ICU at Hendrick. Her death was surely the darkest moment in our lives. We felt very connected to Matthew’s Christmas story, the one that tells of “Rachel weeping for her children” (Matthew 2:17).
And then five Christmases later, our family returned to that grief, for in June of 1999 my brother’s son, Jantsen BARRETT Cope, died suddenly and unexpectedly after lifting weights with his high school football team. We barely survived as we gathered in my parents’ living room that Christmas without my nephew’s big, joyful laughs. Fifteen is too young to die. Our quarters were quarters of grief.
But by God’s grace, we have survived. We’re still together, we still love, we still hope, we still believe in that one who was born in Bethlehem.
This Christmas there is still that gaping hole of absence. And yet our quarters will also represent joy. For when people gave money as a memorial to Jantsen, my brother and sister-in-law prayed about a place to let that money be used in the name of Christ. Through a ministry of their church, they traveled to Vietnam to visit an orphanage. They only went intending to give money. But there in a foreign country, across an ocean, on soil where American and Vietnamese soldiers had died, my brother looked into the eyes of a little guy whose name was Vihn, but is now Van – Van Cope. A year later in the same place they looked into the eyes of a sweet Vietnamese girl who is now Tatum Cope.
As Randall Frame has written, “Christmas does not deny sorrow its place in the world. But the message of Christmas is that joy is bigger than despair, that peace will outlast turmoil, that love has crushed all the evil, hatred, and pain the world at its worst can muster.”
That’s why this Christmas Eve, late in the evening, my wife and I will slip a quarter into the bottom of the stockings of our boys and our daughter-in-law.
The quarter will always remind them of a story that is truer than life: that God so loved the world he gave his only begotten Son. There in that simple manger in Bethlehem, “the hopes and fears of all the years” found their fulfillment. God had broken into a world of great darkness with the light of his Son.
And yet while the Kingdom of God came in Jesus Christ, we haven’t yet experienced it fully. That’s why the church has continued to pray for 2000 years, “Thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.” In the meantime, in the words of scripture, we groan, we long, we wait, we hope.
We live in the belief that our simple acts of kindness and giving are not without meaning because Christ has come. And we live in hope that one day the Lord Jesus will come again and all tears will be wiped from our eyes.
That’s the story of Christmas. I know it’s true. I’d bet you a quarter!

1 John 3

Now I am a child of God, and what I shall be has not yet been revealed. I know that when He is revealed, I shall be like Him, for I shall see Him as He is. And everyone who has this hope in Him purifies himself, just as He is pure. (1 John 3:2-3)
This is God's commandment: that we believe in the name of His Son, Jesus Christ, and love one another as He commanded us. (1 John 3:23)
Those who obey Christ's commandments abide in Him, and He in them. And this is how I know that He abides in me: by the Spirit whom He has given me. (1 John 3:24)