Angels on the Wings

Psalm 121:5 (NIV)

The Lord watches over you—

    the Lord is your shade at your right hand.

"Pilot to bombardier, you have the plane." Jeff spoke with confidence.

He had been deep in prayer before this mission, that the Lord would help him find a way to witness to his crew. Many times before taking off on a mission he would pray for their safe passage and back. Of the ten men aboard his B-17F Flying Fortress, six were saved. Perhaps that was one of the reasons for so many successful missions without even one loss of life.

"Were over the target Captain….bombs away." Came the static ridden voice of Lt. Don Martin.

Captain Jeff Lloyd, or Captain Preach as he was affectionately called, was a man of conviction. He prayed to the Lord before, during and after every mission. Back at home in Tampa Florida, he had two kids and a wonderful wife that he was praying to return to one day soon. They seemed so far away from this bombing run here in Germany.

The co-pilot Charles Wilson was also a devoted man of God that often prayed with Jeff right there in the cockpit. It was seldom these days anyone made fun of you praying since no one wanted to take a chance of making the Big Man upstairs mad. Not when you were flying a glorified paper plane with four 1200-horse power Cyclone engines on board.

Sergeant Paul Wilson, the top turret gunner, jokes a lot about not dropping a sharp pencil on the floor. The government would get pretty sore at us jabbing holes in their quarter of a million dollar toy.

Don yelled with excitement to Jeff "Captain, bandits at one o'clock high". The tail gunner continued the sentence in a shaky voice " Captain bandits at six o'clock low. My God there are too many sir."

Suddenly the fortress of fifty and thirty calibre guns came to life. Jeff spoke into the radio " Men I know that all of you do not trust in the Lord, but I am going to pray for us right now." The radio was silent for a moment then the words were heard. ""Captain pray in a hurry. Help us Jesus….bandits at three o'clock " yelled the waist gunner Sergeant John Carr.

Throughout the aircraft the bullets could be heard leaving the guns as also the enemies bullets could be heard passing through the thin skin-tight structure. Three of the bomber group had already become balls of flaming streaks, bellowing through the bright blue skies. Wave after wave of Mitsubishi fighters seemed to keep coming with little relief.

By this time the fighters were taking their toll on the massive fortress of firepower. The starboard engine was beginning to smoke as Captain Lloyd pulled the fire extinguisher switch on number one engine and feathered the prop. The crew knew the loss of even one engine would slow them down and they would lose the safety of numbers, if there were such a thing. The plane began again to shake and started a slight roll to the left. "Captain we have lost some aileron and elevator authority." Shouted Charles from the co-pilot seat.

The waist gunner called up and said there were big chunks of the aileron and elevator missing. Jeff began to whisper under his breath as he and Charles struggled to maintain control of the war ship. The second starboard engine now broke out in flames and still another fire extinguisher was engaged. Using the rudders to compensate the battle of keeping the plane in the air seemed almost an impossible feat as finally the fighters broke away.

Captain Lloyd spoke hesitantly into the radio microphone "fellows it will take a miracle of God to get us back home. We lost quite a bit of fuel when we took the hits to our starboard wing. I would say we need to all pray for God's protection until we get back to English waters."

With the aircraft shaking and moaning, Charles began to lead the crew in the Lord's prayer. "Our Father who art in Heaven, hollowed be thy name….."

Suddenly the Top Turret gunner broke through "Captain bandits at twelve o'clock high". This brought sweat to the brow of all the men on board. Of all the armament on board, the front of the aircraft was the most vulnerable. As Charles and Jeff gripped the steering yoke they prepared for the worst and continued to pray.

Sergeant Mark Parks, the radio operator began to sing "Amazing Grace how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me." As suddenly as the Mitsubishi's appeared they seem to be terrified and break off their attack. Jeff and Charles thanked the Lord for his protection as they continued toward the English coast. As they lowered their landing gear and touched down, there was not a man on board not thanking God for his hand in their deliverance back home in one piece.

On the mission briefing Major Butler, walked up to Captain Lloyd and with a puzzled look ask "Captain we intercepted a transmission from enemy fighters. We have been checking codebooks but we are puzzled. This pilot said they were approaching an enemy B-17 to make the kill when they saw angels on the wings with fiery swords drawn. They immediately withdrew. Do you know what they were talking about?"

"Yes sir Major" Jeff said with a grin, "Those were just the angels God sent to protect us Major" and with a salute the young Captain walked over to where his men were sitting and sat down. The Major was still standing there scratching his head.

God’s angels are there to watch over you. Are you calling upon His name to protect and guide you?

Dear Lord, we thank You for the protection You give to each of us. We pray that we will never fail top trust You and call upon You in the good and bad times. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

God can change the direction of the wind

Jeremiah 33:3 (NIV)

 ‘Call to me and I will answer you and tell you great and unsearchable things you do not know.’

The chicken house was on fire! A gusting wind drove the flames against the little nearby farmhouse. A young man stood in the front yard of his home, two empty buckets hanging from his limp hands. His shoulders sagged and sweat soaked his clothing, dripped from his black hair, and rolled down his face. Exhausted, his breathing ragged, he gasped, "It's no use, Louise. I can't fight it."

His wife, barely out of her teens, stood near him, two small children crying and clutching the hem of her skirt. She stood protecting her babies while watching her husband rush back and forth from the dug well to their endangered home... useless trips . . . Fighting a battle he couldn't win. The water thrown on the front of the blistering house hissed into steam before it hardly left the buckets. "You'd better get the baby," the discouraged man said. "The house is going to burn."

Disengaging herself from the toddlers' grip, the frightened woman tore out around the house toward the back door. How could she forget the baby? Fear over the fire must have addled her. The temperature inside the house, an inferno, shocked her. Her newborn child lay on its face in the crib, wails covered by the roar of the wind and the raging fire.

Snatching up the infant, the woman rushed back outside to her husband and her little ones. Her heart ached with despair. What would they do without their home? These were depression years. There was no money, nowhere to go, except to crowd in with her parents who still had four children at home in a two bedroom house. This house they now lived in belonged to her husband's widowed mother.

"If only the wind would stop," her husband said. "Maybe, then I'd have a chance." But the wind wasn't letting up. It's force drove the flames horizontally and mercilessly against the front of their little home. Paint oozed from the singed siding.

"Stop the wind, God!" Frank heard his wife yell. He looked up, startled. She stood, the baby tucked under one arm and the arms of the two little ones wrapped around her knees. Her other arm pointed straight toward the burning chicken house. Strong and erect, she placed her confidence in a God who had never failed them yet. Hadn’t He brought their little family through these destitute years?

"Do we really serve a God who can do that?" Frank wondered. He didn't wonder long. No sooner had the words left his wife's lips than the wind ceased, changed directions and blew the opposite way, the force strong enough to shoot the flames horizontally across the ground, never veering right or left.

The wind didn't let up until the chicken house was in ashes. During that time, not once again did it blow toward the farm house, but kept its reversed direction, sweeping the hazardous flames away from the humble little home.

God didn't fail her. God does not forget us.

Sometimes, like husband and father, I fail while trying to douse fires of affliction on my own. Sometimes, like him, when the solution comes, I ask amazed, "Do we really serve a God who can do that?" And the answer is always yes. He can, He will, and He does.

Dear Lord, thank You that You are there and that You always answer our prayers. Help us to always put our trust in You. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Mistake or Miracle?

Romans 8:28 (NIV)

And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.

One day a carpenter  was building some crates for the clothes his church was sending to some orphanage in China. On his way home, he reached into his shirt pocket to find his glasses, but they were gone. When he mentally replayed his earlier actions, he realized what happened; the glasses had slipped out of his pocket unnoticed and fallen into one of the crates, which he had nailed shut. His brand new glasses were heading for China!

The Great Depression was at it's height and Grandpa had six children. He had spent $20 for those glasses that very morning. He was upset by the thought of having to buy another pair. "It's not fair," he told God as he drove home in frustration. "I've been very faithful in giving of my time and money to your work, and now this."

Several months later, the director of the orphanage was on furlough in the United States. He wanted to visit all the churches that supported him in China, so he came to speak one Sunday at my grandfather's small church in Chicago. The missionary began by thanking the people for their faithfulness in supporting the orphanage. "But most of all," he said, "I must thank you for the glasses you sent last year. You see, the Communists had just swept through the orphanage, destroying everything, including my glasses.

I was desperate. Even if I had the money, there was simply no way of replacing those glasses. Along with not being able to see well, I experienced headaches every day, so my coworkers and I were much in prayer about this. Then your crates arrived. When my staff removed the covers, they found a pair of glasses lying on top.

The missionary paused long enough to let his words sink in. Then, still gripped with the wonder of it all, he continued: "Folks, when I tried on the glasses, it was as though they had been custom-made just for me! I want to thank you for being a part of that."

The people listened, happy for the miraculous glasses. But the missionary surely must have confused their church with another, they thought. There were no glasses on their list of items to be sent overseas.

But sitting quietly in the back, with tears streaming down his face, an ordinary carpenter realized the Master Carpenter had used him in an extraordinary way.

Dear Lord, thank You that even when we see things happen and wonder what good can come out of it You can perform a miraculous feat and work it for good. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

His Grace is Sufficient

2 Corinthians 12:9 (NIV)

But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.

This week has been one of those weeks that I have asked the question, “Why?” My back pain has flared up and it is difficult to do anything. When things hurt it is easy to complain and ask why.

Suffering, in many ways, remains a mystery, one that we will never fully understand this side of eternity. Today as I prayed to God and searched His word He gave me some simple truths. I hope they are helpful when you are suffering from some pain or situation that is before you.

Suffering produces intimacy with God (Job 42:5).

Job, who endured unspeakable suffering, said, "My ears had heard of you but now my eyes have seen you."

Intimacy with God is often borne in the furnace of affliction.

"There's an opening of the soul that happens during times of stress or duress," says Dr. Hager. "During times of suffering, we experience God at a deep, profound level."

Suffering equips us to comfort others (2 Corinthians 1:3-5).

Suffering gives us compassion for others who are hurting, enabling us to minister more effectively.

"Sufferers want to be ministered to by people who have suffered.

"People who suffer want people who have suffered to tell them there is hope. They are justifiably suspicious of people who appear to have lived lives of ease." Those who have suffered make the most effective comforters.

Suffering refines us. (Isaiah 48:10)

I have refined you, though not as silver; I have tested you in the furnace of affliction."

The meaning of this verse makes it clear that pain and suffering have a way of bringing our strengths and weaknesses to the surface. When the dross floats to the surface, God skims it off; he purifies and refines us to be the radiant bride of Christ.

Suffering produces growth and maturity (James 1:2-4).

If we turn toward God in our pain, He can use our suffering to mature our faith. We see this biblical truth illustrated through the persecuted church. After hearing their testimonies, few would deny that suffering produces beauty and maturity of spirit.

Suffering conforms us into God's image (Romans 8:28-29).

We may be tempted to read these verses to say that God will bring good out of everything. While He can and does redeem pain in our lives, these verses speak of being conformed to God's image through our suffering.

"If we are willing to sit still and let God work, we will find ourselves being transformed into the image of Jesus.

Simply put, when we seek God through His Word and prayer, we find Jesus. Remember, Jesus understands our pain because he, too, suffered.

Dear Lord, we come before You knowing that You faced suffering. We pray that as we go through the times of pain and suffering that we would use them to draw closer to You and to become more of the person that You want us to be. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

A Little Girl's Prayer

Isaiah 65:24 (NIV)

Before they call I will answer;

    while they are still speaking I will hear.

Helen Roseveare, a Doctor missionary from England to Zaire Africa, told this as it happened to her in Africa. She told it in her testimony on Wed night at Thomas Road Baptist Church. The next Wed night Jerry Falwell, choked up, said,

"I almost feel guilty for standing in the pulpit after the one who spoke here last week. READ it. You will have goose bumps and weep with joy.

A LITTLE GIRLS PRAYER

One night I had worked hard to help a mother in the labor ward; but in spite of all we could do she died leaving us with a tiny premature baby and a crying two-year-old daughter. We would have difficulty keeping the baby alive, as we had no incubator (we had no electricity to run an incubator) and no special feeding facilities. Although we lived on the equator, nights were often chilly with treacherous drafts. One student midwife went for the box we had for such babies and the cotton wool the baby would be wrapped in.

Another went to stoke up the fire and fill a hot water bottle. She came back shortly in distress to tell me that in filling the bottle, it had burst. Rubber perishes easily in tropical climates.

"And it is our last hot water bottle!" She exclaimed. As in the West it is no good crying over spilled milk, so in Central Africa it might be considered no good crying over burst water bottles. They do not grow on trees, and there are no drugstores down forest pathways.

"All right," I said, "Put the baby as near the fire as you safely can; sleep between the baby and the door to keep it free from drafts. Your job is to keep the baby warm."

The following noon, as I did most days, I went to have prayers with any of the orphanage children who chose to gather with me. I gave the youngsters various suggestions of things to pray about and told them about the tiny baby. I explained our problem about keeping the baby warm enough, mentioning the hot water bottle. The baby could so easily die if it got chills. I also told them of the two-year-old sister, crying because her mother had died.

During the prayer time, one ten-year-old girl, Ruth, prayed with the usual blunt conciseness of our African children. "Please, God," she prayed, "send us a water bottle. It'll be no good tomorrow, God, as the baby will be dead, so please send it this afternoon."

While I gasped inwardly at the audacity of the prayer, she added by way of corollary, "And while You are about it, would You please send a dolly for the little girl so she'll know You really love her?"

As often with children's prayers, I was put on the spot. Could I honestly say, "Amen"? I just did not believe that God could do this. Oh, yes, I know that He can do everything. The Bible says so. But there are limits, aren’t there? The only way God could answer this particular prayer would be by sending me a parcel from the homeland. I had been in Africa for almost four years at that time, and I had never, ever received a parcel from home; anyway, if anyone did send me a parcel, who would put in a hot water bottle? I lived on the equator!

Halfway through the afternoon, while I was teaching in the nurses' training school, a message was sent that there was a car at my front door. By the time I reached home, the car had gone, but there, on the veranda, was a large twenty-two pound parcel. I felt tears pricking my eyes. I could not open the parcel alone, so I sent for the orphanage children.

Together we pulled off the string, carefully undoing each knot. We folded the paper, taking care not to tear it unduly. Excitement was mounting. Some thirty or forty pairs of eyes were focused on the large cardboard box. From the top, I lifted out brightly colored, knitted jerseys. Eyes sparkled as I gave them out. Then there were the knitted bandages for the leprosy patients, and the children looked a little bored.

Then came a box of mixed raisins and sultanas---that would make a nice batch of buns for the weekend. Then, as I put my hand in again, I felt the.....could it really be? I grasped it and pulled it out---yes, a brand-new, rubber hot water bottle! I cried. I had not asked God to send it; I had not truly believed that He could. Ruth was in the front row of the children. She rushed forward, crying out, "If God has sent the bottle, He must have sent the dolly, too!"

Rummaging down to the bottom of the box, she pulled out the small, beautifully dressed dolly. Her eyes shone! She had never doubted. Looking up at me, she asked: "Can I go over with you, Mummy, and give this dolly to that little girl, so she'll know that Jesus really loves her? "

That parcel had been on the way for five whole months. Packed up by my former Sunday school class, whose leader had heard and obeyed God's prompting to send a hot water bottle, even to the equator. And one of the girls had put in a dolly for an African child---five months before---in answer to the believing prayer of a ten-year-old to bring it "that afternoon.

Do you believe when you pray for something?

Dear Lord, we thank You that You hear our prayers even before we pray them. Have our faith be stronger. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Does God Answer Prayer?

Philippians 4:6 (NIV)

Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.

It was mid-January, and the coldest January in recent memory. The car was relatively new and well cared for, so imagine the shock and frustration when the man went to go out one frosty morning and it wouldn't start. The Motor League was called, and, after an hour's wait, their truck arrived, and the car was up and running. The operator suggested what he thought to be the problem, and the car was taken immediately to the service station for what he said would remedy it.

Now the concern was for the appointment that he had with the doctor the next day. As he went to bed that night, he prayed, "God, You know how important it is that I make that appointment. Please make my car start in the morning."

Morning dawned colder than ever. He kept asking God to make the car start. Then a neighbor came to my door asking to borrow my car. Since he wanted it before I needed it, I said, "Yes, if it will start." He offered to go out to give it a try so that it could warm up. In a minute, he was back saying that the engine wouldn't turn over. "No miracle!"

Then my neighbor said that there was someone next door who would jump it with cables. In a few minutes, he was back, the car had been started, and the problem was solved. God didn't perform the miracle that was expected, but God did answer the prayer, don't you think?

Dear Lord, thank You that You constantly surprise us with the ways that You answer our prayers. Help us completely trust You when we pray.  It is a joy  knowing that You always do answer, and that You never let us down. In Jesus’ Name. Amen.

The weight of our prayer

Philippians 4:6 (NIV) 

Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.

I read this story a while and came across it again today. When we pray how much weight is in that prayer. So we trust God for the things we need?

There is a story of a grocery store owner who tried to weigh a prayer. A tired-looking woman came into the store and asked for enough food to make a dinner for her children. The grocer asked her how much she could spend. The frail woman answered, "I have nothing to offer but a little prayer."

The storekeeper was not very sentimental nor religious, so he said, half-mockingly, "Write it on paper, and I'll weigh it." So she did. The grocer placed the prayer on the weight side of his old-fashioned scales. Then he began piling food on the other side; but to his amazement, the scale would not go down. He finally became flustered and gave the woman a large bag of food.

The grocer never saw the woman again, but he treasures the slip of paper upon which the woman's prayer had been written; "Please, Lord, give us this day our daily bread."

Dear Lord, thank You for giving us our daily bread. Help our prayers be faithful to You in all that we ask for. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.