Page 3 - Good News July 2012 paper

he Scriptures tell us that we keep our way pure by
the Lord is our Keeper. To “keeping it according to
Tbe kept by Him, however, [God’s] Word…[which] I have
does not mean we will not face treasured in my heart” (Ps.
temptations, for even Jesus 119:9,11). There is a place
was tempted. Rather, it is in the beyond knowing a few Bible
midst of trials and temptations verses - a place where the
that God keeps us. And the way Living Word of God becomes
He keeps us is through His our most treasured posses-
Word. Therefore, if we would sion. To treasure the Word is to
be holy, we must know intima- love it, even as it pierces “as far
tely the Person Whom the Bible as the division of soul and
calls the Word. spirit” (Hebrews 4:12).
To treasure the Word is to
TREASURING THE WORD remain fully vulnerable, even
“How can a young man keep as it judges “the thoughts and
his way pure? By keeping it intentions of the heart” (Heb.
according to Thy word. With all 4:12). It exposes our motives. It
my heart I have sought Thee; is the lamp of the Spirit which
do not let me wander from Thy illuminates the darkness of our
commandments. Thy word I hearts with light. It sets us free
have treasured in my heart, from the strongholds of hidden
that I may not sin against Thee” sin. It wounds but it also heals,
(Psalm 119:9-11). penetrating deeply into the
The question is not, “How can very core of our being. The
a young man become pure?” Word of the Lord, united with
as though purity of heart was the Holy Spirit, is the vehicle of
impossible for a young man. our transformation into the
Rather, the question is, “How image of Christ. Holiness
can he keep his way pure?” comes to him whose treasure
Purity of heart can be reached is the Word. [From: Holiness,
and maintained if we abide in Truth and the Presence of God,
fellowship with God’s Word. Francis Frangipane, Arrow
No matter what our age may be, Publications, 1998]

ot a fine work of art; the tossing in fever, was a boy of the the next morning he said to the whom she had nursed back to
keen critic would have slums. Born of drunken parents, nurse, “Tell me more about Him.” health; children who loved her
Npronounced it a daub. It did the boy was born to a heritage of How glad the nurse was to tell because her love stood between
not cost much money, and the woe. him! them and their fears; white-
frame was of plain, uncarved He knew nothing of what the word Her life had been one of trials, but capped nurses crowded around
wood. But the picture told a story, “father” meant; he knew the “old now she was anchored in a haven her, for her life had blessed them.
and told it well. For the back- man” well enough to keep out of of rest, and Christ’s Voice had The grey light of a newborn day
ground a rough stone wall; above his way; he carried marks of his brought a calm to her troubled stole through the window, and all
it a leaden sky; in the foreground a cruel beatings on his face, and life. As she told the old, old story, was still in that quiet ward.
pale, weary-looking girl. when the fever came, the police- the boy said, “You know Him, Around the bed stood the nurses,
In her arms she held a sick boy. man found him alone in the straw don’t you?” for she was dying. A young
And just in front of him the Christ on the damp floor of his cellar. “Yes, she said, “thank God I do.” clergyman was called in from the
stood; the patient, ever-loving They brought him to the hospital, “And He loves boys?” next ward. He looked upon the
Christ. His hand, not yet pierced, and hands, soft and delicate, “He loves everybody.” face on the pillow, then his eyes
rested upon the head of the sick ministered to him. “Rough boys like me?” sought the picture and, as he fell
boy. He grew better; the doctor said he “Everybody.” upon his knees, he said, “Thank
His eyes caught the upturned would pull through. One morning And so day by day, she talked of God.”
eyes of the lad, and in the faded when the nurse came, and pulled the Christ of the picture, and at “Who are you?” she asked. The
eyes of the boy, the light was up the blind to let the light fall last she said again, “Do you eyes of the dying nurse sought
beginning to come back. upon his face, she said, “Shall I believe in Him?” his. Her face was beautiful with a
The picture hung in a hospital. On read to you?” And he said, “I believe,” and two glory not of earth, as she listened
a bed right opposite the picture, “No,” said the boy, and his eyes faces, bathed in tears, were lifted when he spoke.
sought the pic- to the picture. “I am the boy to whom you told the
http://www.atotheword.com The boy went from the hospital story of the picture. My work is
ture. “No, tell me
about that pic- carrying next to his heart a small with the poor. We shall meet
ture; who is He?” Bible, and in his heart the Christ. again.”
“He is the Christ,” As the years rolled on, the nurse “Lift me,” she said.”
she said; and thought often of the boy, but she “Ah,” he whispered, “you lifted
then with a prayer was shut away from the world, me.”
in her heart she and her hours were long hours, so His strong right arm lifted her up.
told the story of she heard nothing of him. Together their eyes sought the
His life to the boy, Finally, grey-haired and bent with picture. The first ray of the rising
and as she closed age, she became ill and, at her sun fell upon the face of Christ,
she said, “Do you request, they placed her in the and when he gently lowered the
believe in Him?” bed opposite the picture of Christ still face to the pillow, he knew
“I believe in you,” and the child. that she saw Him, “face to Face.”
said the boy, and Many came to see her: old people - Selected