The inspiration for this website came from a Scripture song I heard over 10 years ago at a ladies retreat:

Like Apples of Gold in pictures of silver
A word fitly spoken shall be,
Like Apples of Gold in pictures of silver
Let my life bring glory to thee.

A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in pictures of silver.
Proverbs 25:11

Although some of the "stories" listed are made up, the Scriptural truths they illustrate are very real and can be of great benefit in a Christian's walk with the Lord and as illustrations for the lost.

It is my heart's desire that amongst the pages of this website, the Christian find words of encouragement and be spurred on to service for our Lord, and that seekers of the truth find Salvation in the timeless truths of God's Word for these troubled times.

- Angela

Posts Tagged ‘Salvation’

The Matchless Pearl

The Matchless Pearl

A heavy splash was followed by many ripples and then the water below the pier was still. David Morse, a missionary, crouched low on the pier, his eyes riveted where a stream of little bubbles rose to the surface from deep under the water. In a moment his old friend Rambhau, an Indian pearl diver, appeared and clambered onto the dock, grinning.

“Look at this one, sahib,” said Rambhau, taking a big oyster from between his teeth. “I think it will be good.”

Morse took it and pried it open with his pocket knife. “Rambhau! Look!” exclaimed Morse, “Why it’s a treasure!”

“Yes, a good one,” shrugged the diver.

“Good! It’s perfect isn’t it? Have you ever seen a better pearl? ” cried Morse, turning the pearl over in his hands.

“Oh, yes, there are better pearls, much better. Why, I have one…” his voice trailed off. “See here–the imperfections–the black speck here, this tiny dent. It’s not even round, but good enough as pearls go.”

“Your eye is too sharp for your good, my friend,” lamented Morse. “I would never ask for a more perfect pearl!”

“It is just as you say about your God,” answered Rambhau. “To themselves people seem without fault, but God sees them as they really are.” The two men started down the dusty road to town.

“You’re right, Rambhau, but God offers a perfect righteousness to all who will simply believe and accept His free offer of salvation through His beloved Son.”

“No, sahib. As I’ve told you so many times, it’s too easy. That is where your religion breaks down. Perhaps I am too proud, but I must work for my place in heaven. Do you see that man over there? He is a pilgrim, perhaps to Bombay or Calcutta. He walks barefooted over the sharpest stones–and see–every few paces he kneels down and kisses the road. That is good. The first day of the new year I shall begin my pilgrimage. All my life I have planned it. I shall make sure of heaven this time. I am going to Delhi on my knees.”

“Rambhau! You’re crazy! It’s nine hundred miles to Delhi! The skin will break on your knees and you will have blood poisoning or leprosy before you ever get there.”

“No, I must go to Delhi. The suffering will be sweet, for it will purchase heaven for me.”

“Rambhau, my friend, you can’t! How can I let you do this when Jesus Christ, by His death and resurrection, has already done all to purchase heaven for you?”

But the old man could not be moved. “You are my dearest friend on earth, sahib Morse. Through many years you have stood beside me. In sickness and want you have been sometimes my only friend. But even you cannot turn me from this great desire to purchase eternal bliss. I must go to Delhi.” It was useless. The old pearl diver could not understand, could not accept the free salvation of Christ.

Later one afternoon Morse answered a knock at his door to find Rambhau there.

“My good friend!” exclaimed Morse. “Come in.”

“No,” said the pearl diver. “I want you to come with me to my house, sahib. I have something to show you.”

The heart of the missionary leaped. Perhaps God was answering his prayers at last. “Of course I’ll come.”

Inside Rambhau’s home, Morse was seated on the chair where many times he had sat explaining to the diver God’s way of salvation, Rambhau left the room to return with a small but heavy strongbox. “I have had this strongbox for years,” he said. “I keep only one thing in it. Now I will tell you about it. Sahib Morse, I once had a son.”

“A son! Rambhau, you never said a word about him!”

“No, sahib, I couldn’t.”

As the diver spoke, his eyes were wet with tears. “Now I must tell you, for soon I will leave, and who knows whether I shall ever return? My son was a diver, too–the best pearl diver on the coasts of India. He had the swiftest dive, the keenest eye, the strongest arm, the longest breath of any man who sought for pearls. What joy he brought to me! He always dreamed of finding a pearl beyond all others. One day he found it, but in his desire to get it, he stayed under too long. He lost his life soon after. All these years I have kept the pearl, but now, my friend, I am giving it to you.”

The old man, shaking with emotion, worked the lock on the strongbox and drew from it a carefully wrapped package. Gently folding back the cloths, he picked up a mammoth pearl and placed it in the hand of the missionary. It was one of the largest pearls ever found off the coast of India, and it glowed with a luster and brilliance Morse had never seen. It would have brought a fabulous sum in any market.

For a moment the missionary was speechless and gazed on the pearl with awe. “Rambhau! what a pearl!”

“That pearl, sahib, is perfect,” he replied quietly.

The missionary looked up quickly with a new thought.

“Rambhau this is a wonderful pearl, an amazing pearl. Let me buy it. I will give you ten thousand dollars for it.”

“Sahib! What do you mean?”

“Well, I will give you fifteen thousand dollars for it, or if it takes more I will work for it.”

“Sahib,” said Rambhau, as his whole body stiffened, “this pearl is beyond all price. No man in all the world has enough money to pay what this pearl is worth to me. I could never sell it. You may only have it as a gift.”

“No, Rambhau, I cannot accept it that way. Perhaps I am too proud, but that is too easy. I must earn it.”

The old pearl diver was stunned. “You don’t understand at all, sahib. Don’t you see? My only son gave his life to get this pearl, and nothing you would do could ever earn it. Its worth is in the life-blood of my son. Just accept it as a token of the love I have for you.”

For a moment the missionary could not speak. Then he gripped the hand of his old friend. “Rambhau,” he said in a low voice, “don’t you see? That is just what God has been saying to you.”

The diver looked long and searchingly at the missionary and slowly he began to understand.

“God is offering salvation to you as a free gift. It is so great and priceless that no man on earth could buy it–millions of dollars are too little. No man can earn it–in a thousand pilgrimages you could not earn it. It cost God the life-blood of His only Son to make the entrance for you into heaven. All you can do is accept it as a token of God’s love for you, a sinner.

“Rambhau, of course I will accept the pearl in deep humility, praying God I may be worthy of your love. But won’t you accept God’s great gift of eternal life, in deep humility knowing it cost Him the death of His only Son to offer it to you?”

Great tears were rolling down the face of the old man. The veil was lifting. He understood at last. “Sahib, I see it now. I could not believe that His salvation was free, but now I understand. Some things are too priceless to be bought or earned. Sahib, I accept His offer of salvation.”

Author Unknown

“God commendeth His love toward us, in that,
while we were yet sinners,
Christ died for us”

(Romans 5:8).

“For God so loved the world,
that He gave His only begotten Son,
that whosoever believeth in Him
should not perish, but have everlasting life.”

(John 3:16).

“For by grace are ye saved through faith;
and that not of yourselves:
it is the gift of God: not of works,
lest any man should boast”

(Ephesians 2:8,9).

Softly and Tenderly Jesus Is Calling

Softly and Tenderly Jesus Is Calling

by Will L. Thompson

Softly and tenderly Jesus is calling,
Calling for you and for me;
See, on the portals He’s waiting and watching,
Watching for you and for me.

Chorus
Come home,…come home,..
Ye who are weary, come home;
Earnestly, tenderly, Jesus is calling,
Calling, O sinner, come home!

Why should we tarry when Jesus is pleading,
Pleading for you and for me?
Why should we linger and heed not His mercies,
mercies for you and for me?

Chorus
Come home,…come home,..
Ye who are weary, come home;
Earnestly, tenderly, Jesus is calling,
Calling, O sinner, come home!

Time is now fleeting, the moments are passing,
Passing from you and from me;
Shadows are gathering, death beds are coming,
Coming for you and for me.

Chorus
Come home,…come home,..
Ye who are weary, come home;
Earnestly, tenderly, Jesus is calling,
Calling, O sinner, come home!

Oh! for the wonderful love He has promised,
Promised for you and for me;
Tho’ we have sinned, He has mercy and pardon,
Pardon for you and for me.

Chorus
Come home,…come home,..
Ye who are weary, come home;
Earnestly, tenderly, Jesus is calling,
Calling, O sinner, come home!

I Found Jesus There

I Found Jesus There

The surgeon sat beside the boy’s bed; the boy’s parents sat across from him. “Tomorrow morning,” the surgeon began, “I’ll open up your heart…”

“You’ll find Jesus there,” the boy interrupted.

The surgeon looked up, annoyed. “I’ll cut your heart open,” he continued, “to see how much damage has been done…”

“But when you open up my heart, you’ll find Jesus in there.” The surgeon looked to the parents, who sat quietly.

“When I see how much damage has been done, I’ll sew your heart and chest back up and I’ll plan what to do next.”

“But you’ll find Jesus in my heart. The Bible says He lives there. The hymns all say He lives there. You’ll find Him in my heart.”

The surgeon had had enough. “I’ll tell you what I’ll find in your heart. I’ll find damaged muscle, low blood supply, and weakened vessels. And I’ll find out if I can make you well.”

“You’ll find Jesus there too. He lives there.”

The surgeon left. The surgeon sat in his office, recording his notes from the surgery: “…damaged aorta, damaged pulmonary vein, widespread muscle degeneration. No hope for transplant, no hope for cure. Therapy: painkillers and bed rest. Prognosis:” here he paused, “death within one year.”

He stopped the recorder, but there was more to be said. “Why?” he asked aloud.

“Why did You do this? You’ve put him here; You’ve put him in this pain; and You’ve cursed him to an early death. Why?” The Lord answered and said, “The boy, My lamb, was not meant for your flock for long, for he is a part of My flock, and will forever be. Here, in My flock, he will feel no pain, and will be comforted as you cannot imagine. His parents will one day join him here, and they will know peace, and My flock will continue to grow.”

The surgeon’s tears were hot, but his anger was hotter. “You created that boy, and You created that heart. He’ll be dead in months. Why?”

The Lord answered,

“The boy, My lamb, shall come home to My flock, for he has done his duty: I did not put My lamb with your flock to lose him, but to retrieve another lost lamb.”

The surgeon wept.

The surgeon sat beside the boy’s bed; the boy’s parents sat across from him. The boy awoke and whispered, “Did you cut open my heart?”

“Yes,” said the surgeon.

“What did you find?” asked the boy.

“I found Jesus there,” said the surgeon.

Author Unknown

Is Your All on the Altar

Is Your All on the Altar

by Elisha A. Hoffman

You have longed for sweet peace, and for faith to increase,
And have earnestly, fervently prayed;
But you cannot have rest or be perfectly blest
Until all on the altar is laid.

Chorus
Is your all on the altar of sacrifice laid?
Your heart, does the Spirit control?
You can only be blest and have peace and sweet rest,
As you yield Him your body and soul.

Would you walk with the Lord, in the light of His Word,
And have peace and contentment alway,
you must do His sweet will,
to be free from all ill,
On the altar your all you must lay.

Chorus
Is your all on the altar of sacrifice laid?
Your heart, does the Spirit control?
You can only be blest and have peace and sweet rest,
As you yield Him your body and soul.

Oh, we never can know what the Lord will bestow
Of the blessings for which we have prayed,
Till our body and soul He doth fully control,
And our all on the altar is laid.

Chorus
Is your all on the altar of sacrifice laid?
Your heart, does the Spirit control?
You can only be blest and have peace and sweet rest,
As you yield Him your body and soul.

Who can tell all the love He will send from above,
And how happy our hearts will be made,
Of the fellowship sweet
we shall share at His feet,
When our all on the altar is laid.

Chorus
Is your all on the altar of sacrifice laid?
Your heart, does the Spirit control?
You can only be blest and have peace and sweet rest,
As you yield Him your body and soul.

My Faith Looks Up To Thee

My Faith Looks Up To Thee

Words: Ray Palmer, 1830.
Music: Olivet (Mason), Lowell Mason, 1830

My faith looks up to Thee,
Thou Lamb of Calvary, Savior divine!
Now hear me while I pray, take all my guilt away,
O let me from this day be wholly Thine!

May Thy rich grace impart
Strength to my fainting heart, my zeal inspire!
As Thou hast died for me, O may my love to Thee,
Pure warm, and changeless be, a living fire!

While life’s dark maze I tread,
And griefs around me spread, be Thou my Guide;
Bid darkness turn to day, wipe sorrow’s tears away,
Nor let me ever stray from Thee aside.

When ends life’s transient dream,
When death’s cold sullen stream over me roll;
Blest Savior, then in love, fear and distrust remove;
O bear me safe above, a ransomed soul!

The Eye of Faith

The Eye of Faith

It was a Wednesday afternoon. Shrouded in a dense fog, a large steamer edged slowly forward off the coast of Newfoundland, its foghorn crying out somber notes of warning. The captain–near exhaustion from lack of sleep–was startled by a gentle tap on his shoulder. He fumed and found himself face-to-face with an old man in his late seventies.

The old man said, “Captain, I have come to tell you that I must be in Quebec on Saturday afternoon.”

The captain pondered for a moment, and then snorted, “Impossible.”

“Very well,” the old man responded, “if your ship can’t take me, God will find some other means to take me. I have never broken an engagement in 57 years.”

Lifting his weary hands in a gesture of despair, the captain replied, “I would help if I could–but I am helpless.”

Undaunted, the old man suggested, “Let’s go down to the chart room and pray.” The captain raised his eyebrows in utter disbelief, looking at the old man as if he had just escaped from a lunatic asylum.

“Do you know how dense the fog is?” the captain demanded.

The old man responded, “No. My eye is not on the thickness of the fog but on the living God who controls every circumstance of my life.”

Against his better judgment, the captain accompanied the old man to the chart room and kneeled with him in prayer. With simple words a child might use, the old man prayed, “O Lord, if it is consistent with Thy will, please remove this fog in five minutes. Thou knowest the engagement Thou didst make for me in Quebec on Saturday. I believe it is Thy will.”

The captain, a nominal Christian at best, thought it wise to humor the old man and recite a short prayer. But before he was able to utter a single word, he felt a tap on his shoulder. The old man requested, “Don’t pray, because you do not believe; and as I believe God has already answered, there is no need for you to pray.” The captain’s mouth dropped open.

Then the old man explained, “Captain, I have known my Lord for 57 years and there has never been a single day that I have failed to gain an audience with the King. Get up, captain, and open the door, and you will find the fog is gone.” The captain did as he was requested, and was astonished to find that the fog had indeed disappeared.

The captain later testified that this encounter with the aged George Muller completely revolutionized his Christian life. He had seen with his own eyes that Muller’s God was the true and living God of the Bible. He had seen incredible power flow from a frail old man–a power rooted in simple childlike faith in God.

The late pastor Ray Stedman once delivered a sermon in which he said, “Faith has an apparent ridiculousness about it. You are not acting by faith if you are doing what everyone around you is doing. Faith always appears to defy the circumstances. It constitutes a risk and a venture.”

That is the kind of faith George Muller demonstrated decade after decade in his long and fruitful life. During the final year of his earthly sojourn, he wrote that his faith had been increasing over the years little by little, but he emphatically insisted that there was nothing unique about him or his faith. He believed that a life of trust was open to virtually all of God’s children if only they would endure when trials came instead of giving up.

Author Unknown

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