Gabrielle May Robinson was quite distraught. It was February 15th, 1878 and surely this was the worst day of the 16 year old girl’s life. Despondent, the thin, well-complexioned girl dropped most unladylike onto one of the many benches that adorned Auburn Park.

It was a beautiful day in all respects, unless you had the particularly terrible outlook on life as one certain lass had at the moment. But the physical setting of this nice country village was absolutely wonderful; the gorgeous oak trees surrounding the small lake, the snow-capped mountains in the distance, the gentle breeze blowing on those that decided to partake of the most enjoyable atmosphere. But Gabrielle cared not.

As she pondered over her situation in life; which is what was the cause of her present failing attitude, the girl slumped down even more, giving her a very sloppy and dejected appearance to anyone who happened to be walking by. And at this exact moment there was someone strolling past. In contrast to our lady of the story, Gabrielle, this woman was quite up in years; at least sixty of them would be the average man’s guess, and she was pleasant to say the least. In fact the aged woman seemed to have a glow about her entire countenance. So evident was this, that poor Gabrielle nearly sighed aloud with remorse when the lady took up the vacant place on the bench right next to her! Disgruntled, the young girl desired to be left alone to wallow in her own self pity. Well, certainly this grandmother type would not interrupt Gabrielle’s plans of doting on her troubles and tribulations? The young girl felt more at ease when the stranger took out a book and quietly began to read.

For long minutes the two of them sat side by side; one becoming more discouraged and discontent with life as the time passed, the other silently taking in the pages of what was before her. Then the old woman folded the book closed and joined Gabrielle in staring at the countryside. But whereas the girl’s eyes were shallow and uninterested, the others’ was enjoying all around her; the birds, the beautiful trees, the family by the lake enjoying a picnic lunch. And as the reader of this story would expect, the woman of years broke the silence with a question. “What is your name, young lady?” Not at all desiring to give it, as the woman may be looking for conversation (as many older women seem to be out of sheer lonliness), but realizing that to not do so would be rude in manners, Gabrielle supplied the woman with her full name, and added on “Ma’am” at the end, of course, as only the worst of children did not display such respect for their elders. “Pretty name” said the stranger. “Is it Gabrielle with an “e”?” Gabrielle nodded. “Yes ma’am.” Looking at the scenery, Gabrielle was surprised by the next question offered by the one next to her. “You are not here to enjoy and relax, are you Gabrielle?” Glancing in the other’s direction, she was almost startled by her pointed inquiry. Then the young lady honestly answered, “No, ma’am, I am here to take a momentary break from my dream of a different one.” Shocked at her own bluntness, Gabrielle looked out into the picturesque landscape. Who was this woman and how could she have so easily guessed that Gabrielle was troubled? Now the aged woman turned and with a truly compassionate face asked, “What ails you lass? Is it the death of a loved one, or is someone sick?” Gabrielle shook her head. “No, nothing like’s just...” The girl ceased speaking and stared again glassy eyed at the terrain. The bespectacled lady; this was the first time that Gabrielle noticed that the woman wore eyeglasses, looked at her more directly this time. Very personal...very sincere...the woman spoke.

You can tell me Gabrielle, I will listen. And Gabrielle did. “It is my life,” she started. “I have four brothers and two sisters and I am the oldest. I am forever doing chores; cleaning the home, caring for the little ones, teaching the older ones...” With a sigh, she wiped a tear from her eye and glanced upward at the clear blue sky. “I will never have a different life. Years will go by and I will still be burdened with tasks not meant for me.” Wide-eyed, Gabrielle was dreaming out loud. “I was meant to marry into a well-to-do family; ask any of my aunts, they will tell you so, where I could hire a body to help with the children and another body to tend to the necessary responsibilities.” Taking a breath, Gabrielle felt better now. So glad to have another to sympathize with her frustrating role in life that was given to her, to have someone else’s pity and understanding would be a great comfort. “How do you know, Gabrielle, that these tasks were not meant for you?” What? Gabrielle’s mind raced. “What do you mean, ma’am?” she inquired. “Do you not see my situation, how wearied I am with labor and responsibility?” Face to face, the other spoke. They were kind words, yet they were true and piercing to Gabrielle’s heart. “Perhaps the Master has called you to this life.” Gabrielle’s countenance fell instantly! Her head dropped as if in shame. The very words that she never wanted to hear! Anything but those words! Tenderly the old woman leaned over. “ you know the Savior?” As if frozen, the young girl sat there unmoving. Then finally, “Yes ma’am...I do...five years ago I became one of His children...but...” The other finished the sentence. “You do not live for the Master, do you Gabrielle?” Quickly the young girl turned to this stranger that had so easily ventured on the truth. “You must remember the words of Jesus, my child. In Matthew 16:24 our Lord said to those already His, ‘If any man will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross and follow me.’ If this is where the Lord has placed you, then take it as your cross. Deny yourself Gabrielle and in will be following Him.” Gabrielle said just then, slowly and carefully choosing her words, “And I knew that the solution was giving my life to Him but it is so hard.” Intently now, the older woman spoke. “You must do it though. You will have no peace at all until you submit to His will,,,until you take up your cross and follow Him.” Gabrielle broke down and cried. And oh, did she cry! The stranger gently put her arms around her. The young girl wept for many minutes. “Oh, I have been such a fool!” she exclaimed. Soon the emotion subsided and the older woman spoke once more. “I will leave you now, my .friend, so you can talk to the Master alone.” Regaining her composure, Gabrielle smiled: something she had not done in a while. “Yes,” she stated, “I will talk to Him now, without delay...and thank you.” The glowing elderly woman smiled a genuine smile. “We shall meet again Gabrielle. If not on this earth, it will be at the Saviour’s feet on the other side. Goodbye my friend.” As she turned to go, it was Gabrielle’s turn for a question. “By the way ma’am, what is your name? I never received it.” The wise old woman responded faintly, “Isabella, my dear...Isabella Alden. But believe it or not my friends call me Pansy.” And with those words, she went on her way.

Pansy was the pen name for Isabella Alden, a wonderful Christian author who penned many godly fiction books in the late 1800's and early 1900's. Pansy was the aunt of another famous writer, Grace Livingston Hill


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Suzy Harwood glanced up. The alarm clock had malfunctioned again, she now was an hour late for work. Skipping her normal morning preparation, Suzy threw on a plain pink dress and hurried towards the kitchen. Rich was eating breakfast, a smug expression on his face as he noticed his sister. “You’re late again” he snapped. Without hesitating, she answered, “Just worry about yourself brother.” Ever since he started his job with the Los Angeles Crime Unit, he was irritable and uneasy. Suzy couldn’t blame him, with all of the killing and bloodshed. But with the economy so tight, it was up to the two of them to support the family. Still...his edginess and outright rudeness bothered her at times.

Mrs. Harwood eased the tension. “Now let us not ruin the morning.” In her late fifties, the pleasant-faced woman looked ten years older. Rich got up from the table and responded. “No need to be concerned mother, I have to leave for work now.” Spitefully, he glanced at his sister and gave her a smug look. “I, for one, like to be on time.” Suzy ignored the comment as he exited and she then put her eggs into the microwave. Three seconds later they were done, sunnyside up, just the way she liked them. Of course, the young girl had to push away the thought that these were imitation eggs that were packaged in a two by two silver-lined box. Suddenly considering her tardiness, Suzy decided to eat them on the way. Leaning over, she kissed her mother on the cheek. “I will see you in a few hours mother and please remember to lock the doors and window bars.” As the elder Harwood was digesting the daily newspaper, she nodded slightly in response.

Suzy went in the direction of the living room, but hesitated when she saw her father sitting on the couch, gazing trance-like at the television set. It had been almost five years since he had spoken a word. Television seemed to be his life, but even that three-dimensional box ceased to bring out any emotion from him. She noticed the newscast and it was typical for the weekend; 35 murders, dozens of fires and literally hundreds of robberies of different sorts. Suzy hugged her father and as usual he was unresponsive. It was difficult to see him this way, especially remembering how close they were when she was a young girl. Many times thinking about the past brought tears to her eyes. Her ponderings were interrupted. “Aren’t you late dear?” questioned Mrs. Harwood standing at the door between the living room and the kitchen. Suzy snapped back reality and started for the door. As she said goodbye and began walking down the driveway, Suzy opened the door to her small compact car, got in and started it. Suddenly, and very strangely...her mother appeared in the doorway, frantically waving her hands! Suzy’s mind raced. What could be wrong! Another war announced on the news! Did her father just collapse with his final heart attack? The doctors warned him years ago. “Inside...quick!” yelled Mrs. Harwood. They ran in only to find Mr. Harwood, not laying unconscious on the floor by any means, but standing up, his face glowing! Almost in a lunge he grabbed his daughter’s arm and pointed to the television set. The excited man was actually smiling! So was the newsman on the set! Whatever could get this response? thought Suzy. She listened intently as the still-smiling newscaster spoke. “To repeat this special bulletin, the event will take place within the next two hours in the Tri-City Mall just north of Los Angeles.” Suzy could not believe her ears! “ it...” The older man interrupted, Yes honey it really is!”

All in the room instantly became silent as the man on the screen continued speaking. “This is no false alarm ladies and gentlemen, this event has been verified.” Mr. Harwood caught his breath. “Mother you take the little car and pick Rich up and meet Suzy and I there.” Without delay the three of them were out the door.

Driving through downtown everyone was clearly excited. People of all ages, colors and status were cheering and shouting; some held banners and whistles and other party items. The dreariness and almost death-like appearance that had overtaken much of Los Angeles the last thirty years was somehow changed by the hysteria of this event. People that normally lived a life of depression and fear were now pleasant and happy. Even a few of the Bush people as they were called, could be seen entering from the wooded areas outside of town. The Bushmen had left society years ago due to its evils and wickednesses and were rarely ever seen.

A short time later, Mr. Harwood and Suzy were at the Tri-City Mall...along with a few thousand others! Finding a parking space on the grass, the two of them hurried out. The doorways were packed. The Crime Unit Police sent for riot control had abandoned their posts and were trying to get as close as they could to where the “event” was going to take place. This was similar to the old sporting events, thought Mr. Harwood. The gathering of the masses to see the players. In fact, the enthusiasm was much the same. But this certainly was no game! Everyone was waiting and anticipating. And surely not just those here, but those throughout the whole world! This was the day and the Harwood family would be here to see it!

Suzy spotted the area where it looked like everyone was gathering. “Over there Dad” she said, nodding her head. They got as close as they could. Suddenly a stranger appeared. Having edged through the crowd as all the others, he ended up directly next to Suzy. It was one of the Bushmen. Due to his strange garb and somewhat dirty appearance. It was obvious that he was one of them. The man was also very tall, much more so than anyone else in the room and Suzy took advantage of that. “Excuse you see anything?” The man responded by giving a strange stare. It was not often one of the Bush was spoken to, when they were even seen, that is. “Yes, what do you see?” added Mr. Harwood excitedly. Both of them were like children at a birthday party. The man of the Bush answered, “Well, there are many is hard to see anything clearly.” He glanced in the direction of the Harwoods. “What is going on here? I saw all of the vehicles...and decided to come and see what was occuring.” Suzy momentarily ignored his question and pressed him again. “Do you see anything at’ve got to see something.” Trying even harder to inch up, the stranger peered as best he could to get a view of the excitement. “There” he stated, “I see some doctors I guess...about ten of them...and is all I see...and they seem to be surrounding something...a table I think.” He relaxed his body and questioned his nefound friends, “Now will you please tell me what is going on?” Suzy instantly calmed, her mood became one of seriousness. “Remember during the seventies of the last century, a law was passed that allowed a woman to terminate her pregnancy?” The strange man nodded. “Yes, I read it in the history books. My grandfather also told me that the trend got worse and worse.” “It did” Suzy stated. “By 2015, over 50 million babies were...well...put to death. The poor young lady sobbed, trying to control her emotions. It had been so long since she had shed a tear. She struggled for words. “By 2025, 80% of the babies being born conceived were aborted, cruelly killed by surgical means.” Suzy could not go on. Her father brought his arm up to her shoulder.

The Bush man responded. “I could never understand how anyone could take the life of their own flesh and blood. This practice was one of many reasons why my ancestors left the old world.” Mr. Harwood stepped closer. “I could never grasp it myself, young man. Many people gave reasons of simple convenience, others just lived immorally...and yet others were purely selfish.” The stranger shook his head, greatly distressed. He looked over the increasing crowd before him. What did todays excitement have to do with these horrible events of the past? Suzy then spoke up. “Then a few years later a disease appeared. It only affected children.” The dark man listened intently. “I knew nothing of that. We stopped our contact with the old world about twenty years ago.” Suzy continued, “About 75% of all children died as a result of this disease, but then in 2032 something happened...” She glanced at her dad, who nodded in her direction as if to give her some strength. “Because of everything, the terminations, the disease...women...well...built up sort of an immunity to...well, to become pregnant. They could have no more children.” Suzy, as if still in disbelief, dropped her head in despair. Mr. Harwood stepped in. “No one quite knew what had happened. But with all the little ones gone, life seemed to dwindle away. The joy of comforting a crying youngster and teaching an infant to take that first step...were no more. People became bitter because there were no children to love.” Suzy’s face was red now and tears were streaming down her cheeks. Slightly louder, Mr. Harwood spoke again. “Perhaps this event will bring the joy back. Look at those around us-they are are full of happiness and joy! Perhaps after today, this world will treasure life and never interfere with God’s gift again.” As the older man comforted Suzy, he saw Mrs. Harwood and Rich approaching them through the immense crowd and both were smiling. As the two of them got closer, it looked as if Rich was starting to speak, but then he was interrupted. One sudden sound cut through all the chatter and noise. It was the sound of a newborn baby’s cry.

Lo, children are an heritage of the LORD: and the fruit of the womb is his reward.”

Psalm 127:3

Give them, O Lord: what wilt thou give? Give them a miscarrying womb and dry breasts.”

Hosea 9:14

Ephraim is smitten, their root is dried up, they shall bear no fruit: yea, though they bring forth, yet will I slay even the beloved fruit of their womb.”

Hosea 9:16


Buster Story was quite disturbed. If the calendar had not assured him, the distraught man would not have been positive that today was Monday and not a Friday, as typically the first day of the work week was the one day that was usually filled with diverse problems and situations.
At the very start of the day, Buster's kind wife informed him that the toaster, for no apparent reason, suddenly ceased working. And poached eggs, the favorite breakfast for this energetic and organized man, were certainly not the same without two pieces of toasted bread. Then, as Buster was leaving at his normal time, which was 8 A.M, he discovered that his late model Oldsmobile had a flat tire! That's right, an honest to goodness, not going any where, completely motionless for eternity....flat tire! So after twenty minutes of toil and labor, the frustrated 40 year old salesman changed the tire himself. Though coming very close to calling his auto road service, the astute-thinking Buster Story realized that half of his day would probably be over by the time they responded to his call. And of course, thanks to the grime and sweat now deposited on his body, the tired man found it necessary to shower again...for the second time in two hours.
Now these events were enough to destroy the day of this careful and time conscious person, but alas, there were more occurrences to follow the fellow for which we are concerned with presently.
Driving slightly fast, something Buster did not commonly do, he was quite surprised when the fancy sports car next to him, suddenly decided to pass him. And pass he did! The teenage driver smiled at Buster with a smart look in his eyes-that is until the boy realized that directly in front of him was a semi-truck going full speed! instantly, the sports car dodged ahead of Buster's luxury automobile, nearly hitting the front end! Reacting instinctively and defensively, the salesman suddenly veered his vehicle off the road, where the car spun in a half-circle and landed squarely in the center of a large...and very deep...ditch. Shaking his head for the sheer reason of clearing it, Buster angrily jumped out of his car. Unbelievable! Now I'll surely be late, very late in fact, for work! Of all days: stacked up paperwork, the Cheek couple showing up to pick their new car and the noon meeting with Mark Jarrell owner of Jarrell Oldsmobile. Knowing that it would surely be hours for a tow truck to make it out here this time of morning, the neatly dressed salesperson did the only thing that would make him feel somewhat better. Buster appropriately slammed his fist into the hood of the car! "Ow!" Needless to say, this move him no satisfaction and now he was clutching his sore and very red, hand. Seconds later though, Buster was on his cellphone. As he correctly guessed, it would be more than two hours later when he was told that help would arrive. His physical help, that is.
The rest of this particular Friday went much like the beginning, but not quite as severely. The Cheeks never appeared and the meeting with Mr. Jarrell was canceled. However the paperwork did manage to get done. Due to the other things falling through, Buster had more time on his hands then expected. At 5:00 P.M. Buster was ready to go. As he grabbed his briefcase however, Mr. Jarrell came out the door. A stranger was next to him, but when Mr. Jarrell was called back into the office, he just quickly nodded to Buster and disappeared. Instead of following the business owner however, the suited stranger walked in Buster's direction. "Are you going north on the highway, by chance?" the newcomer questioned.
Buster knew that any associate or friend of Mr. Jarrell certainly better be treated right. "Sure am, hop in, "he said. Seconds later, the two were off in Buster story's Oldsmobile. "So, what a day" Stated Buster, "I don't know about yours, but I should have stayed in bed. It was a ruined Friday for me, that's what it was." The passenger smiled and gave a consoling look to the man next to him. "Maybe you should be thankful to God that nothing else happened?" Buster stared in disbelief at his passenger. "Listen, acquaintance to Jarrell or not, you must be crazy. Now I am a christian...I accepted Christ many years ago. But believe me, there is nothing today to thank God about, not a thing!" The stranger sat in silence for a moment, then... "Let me off here if you would Mr. Story." Buster laughed. "You're kidding right? There isn't even an exit near here." Eyeing his surroundings, Buster saw nothing even remotely like a home of any type of residential or even business area... Smiling for the second time since he got in the vehicle, the passenger spoke again. "It's okay, I can get home from here very quickly." Buster looked over in dismay. "Are you sure that you want dropped off here?" he asked. Nodding, the suited man stated, "Thanks for the ride Mr. Story, this will be fine." The car slowed and the passenger door opened. Being intrigued by this person, Buster leaned over and inquired, "hey, what's your name anyway?" The other man closed the door and peered through the window. M.E. Singer" he responded. "Thank you again and have a wonderful day now, Mr. Story." Oddly, the strange man turned and began to walk back the exact direction from which they had just came! Buster was pondering over the man's unique name as he pulled back onto the highway. No first name, just two initials and the last name. M.E. Senger. Curiously, the salesman glanced in the rear-view mirror, wondering just where his companion was headed. When Buster saw no one, he hit the brakes, stopped the vehicle and looked out the back window. All he saw was pasture and highway. Where did he go? Concerned as well as mystified, Buster Story got out of his car and scanned every possible direction! For miles there was nothing but pavement and open land. There was no sign of life and in fact, a person would have nowhere to even hide in this area. Bewildered, Buster climbed back into his Oldsmobile and headed for home. As soon as he got in the door, the curious salesman went to the phone and called his employer. "I am sorry to bother you, Mr. Jarrell, but I had a question for you concerning that friend of yours that was at the dealership today." The owner sounded quite confused, so Buster attempted to clarify. "The man that walked out with you at 5:00 o'clock when I was leaving. Remember, you waved at me...the gentleman in the dark suit." The voice over the receiver was clear. "Sorry Buster, I recall seeing you, but no one came out with me or was standing with me at that time." Deciding to put an end to this obvious embarrassment, Buster apologized for the misunderstanding and said goodbye. The mentally exhausted man shook his head. What a strange thing? Shrugging it off, he went about his normal nightly duties and then went to sleep.
So, let us look at the unseen events of this day in which one of the Master's children stated that there was nothing to be thankful for. At 6:45 A.M.,an angel sent by the Maker to the Story home unplugged the toasting device, which, having a short in the wires, would have caused a tragic fire. At 7:55, the same messenger let the air out of Buster Story's front tire. If the angel's charge, the focus of our story, had left for work at the regular time, he would have been involved in a fatal accident.
And at 9:00, the salesman did not see the strange and sudden appearance of an unusual being during the incident with the teenage speedster. The invisible creature pushed the youth's car ahead, whereas otherwise it would have collided with the front of Buster's automobile, killing both drivers. And due to Buster's tardiness, he still had his job. You see, salesperson Story was to be fired that day...for constantly turning his paperwork in late. But since the Cheeks did not appear, which was the work of another sent one, and Buster was late, the termination meeting was canceled. As a result, Buster had the time to complete all of his business and completely catch up. When Mr. Jarrell saw his employee's hard labor and diligence, he then had a change of heart and decide to give Mr. Story a second chance.

"Giving thanks always for all things unto God and the Father in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ." Ephesians 5:20

"Are they not all ministering spirits, sent forth to minister for them who shall be heirs of salvation." Hebrews 1:14

"Be not forgetful to entertain strangers: for thereby some have entertained angels unawares."
Hebrews 13:2


I apologize, I realized this morning that people were unable to leave comments.
This has now been fixed.


Tobias Jeffrey Davis was ready for this day. Almost like a dream, it was hardly possible that it would ever truly come. But it was finally here and Tobias was surely awake.

Big Tobias, as his friends called him, was a slave. He did stand large, well over six feet tall, and he man looked strong as an ox. Unfortunately over the years, his master had taken notice of his unusual muscle and abused him; sometimes expecting twice as much out of him as any others. Never did Tobias disappoint him. And never again would he have the opportunity to do so, for slavery was now against the law of the states and at daylight he would be pronounced a free man. The north having won the abominable war, the black man was no more the slave to the white.

Bowing reverently, the God-fearing man bowed to the floor. Looking around at the dozens of men in the bunk-filled room, only one or two did not join in on the ritual of prayer that took place every morning. As usual, the thanks and requests to the Creator were many and were given in obvious sincerity. Thirty minutes later, the lot of them left the building and headed for the river. It was there that all the slaves of the McFarley ranch were to be released. As James McFarley spoke, the feelings that swelled through Tobias’ soul were unexplainable. The man that previously had many times whipped and beaten him, now stood there before everyone, telling each one that they were free to go. Of course, if not for the lawman next to McFarley, none of the men would be able to leave, as the master was not one to care for laws and ordinances. Hard to believe that in only minutes, Tobias, his wife Ruth, and their boy Malachi, would be off to a new life. Where exactly they had no idea, but they all trusted in their God as to the Future.

The speech was short, then all began to disperse. Freedom. Tobias’ emotions surged. Tears began to roll from the big man’s eyes. The burden was gone to serve another man for another man’s profit. The Lord had gotten him through these horrendous years. Tobias felt no anger, no sense of vengeance; for he knew that all men would stand before God one day and receive their just reward. But Tobias felt grateful. His heart was full of joy as he thought of the deliverance that his Lord had given him and all of the others that had been in the same situation. Looking up at the sun that was now rising, the emotional man slowly began to sing. “Amazing grace...” His voice lifting higher now, Tobias wiped the tears from his eyes and started again. As he did, a few others turned to listen. “Amazing grace...” There was a few seconds delay as those that looked, stopped to watch. “How sweet the sound...” Tobias’ voice being quite loud caught the attention of many; for nearly all had ceased their labors and movements to hear the powerful words. In fact, the women and children were coming out of the various buildings. The sun shining brightly in his eyes, Tobias sang as if no one else was present. The words were drawn out and each syllable was emphasized. “That saved a wretch like me.” Freedom! Even McFarley and his hands quieted and stood in awe. “I once was lost, but now I am found.” The former slave took a step towards the river and on his face was a smile, a large smile that evidenced pure joy. “Was blind, but now I see.” Slowly now, nearly all of the others that were preparing to leave joined in the singing and simultaneously they walked to Tobias as well. Surely over a hundred black men and their families stood there, facing the beautiful sunrise. “Twas grace that taught my heart to fear, and grace my fears relieved; how precious did that grace appear, the hour I first believed.”

In unison, the voices rang out triumphantly! “Thru many dangers, toils and snares I have already come; Tis grace hath brought me safe thus far, and grace will lead me home.” Tobias’ wife and child ran to him, the boy clutching at his father’s torn pant leg. Now all were silent and every eye was on the big man as he finished the last verse. More tears appeared from each eye. “When we’ve been there ten thousand years, bright shining as the sun, we’ve no less days to sing God’s praise, then when we’ve first begun.” For long seconds they all stood, then slowly and with no words they left the beautiful river and the glorious sunrise.


Fred!” yelled Norma from the front of the home. “It looks like a nasty storm coming and the horses are out!” Quickly the burly man jumped up from the wood-burning stove, where he had been fixing the cast-iron door. Fred Blanton’s wife normally quiet and very organized wife of 20 years was suddenly frantic and scared. And Fred knew why. The ten stallions, fine horses every one, had been sold to Bruester Farms only yesterday and tomorrow they were to be picked up. If something happened to any of them, Fred would be responsible and the money at this time was very much needed for the family. “Douse the lamps honey and watch the boys” he said as he looked out the window. “This looks like the worst weather around these parts in years.” Grabbing a jacket, he leaned over and gave Norma a kiss on the cheek. “Pray dear and I will be back in a few minutes.” Here he was, thought Fred, farming ever since he was a boy and this year of 1878 looked like it was going to be a doozy for tornadoes and rainstorms of all sorts.

Dashing out the door, Fred ran as hard and as fast as he could. The wind was powerful like he had never seen before, nearly knocking him down many times. Lightning flashed through the sky, sometimes striking the top of the barn that Fred stood right next to. Hurridly, the determined man led the horses in one by one. Done! Now to get back to the house safely. Looking in the direction of the two-story home, Fred could see his wife through the window. “I’ll be there in a few seconds honey,” the anxious man murmured to himself quietly. Barely able to see due to the wind-driven sand and dirt, he struggled through the unseen force, making very little headway. In just the last few seconds it seemed that the winds had increased a tremendous amount. The rain was also heavier and Fred was soaked! Just as made it past the barn, a blinding bolt of lightning suddenly appeared! Knocked to the wet and cold ground, the last thing that Fred thought of, was that at least if he died, Norma would have enough money to get by for a while due to the sale of the horses.

Fred awoke. The rain had stopped and as he got up, he saw the sky was now clear. Strange. How did the horrendous storm disappear so quickly? Something was wrong...things looked different. The house was pretty much the same, but the barn was nearly destroyed and there were large thick poles all over the property and they were connected to one another with massive heavy wires. What happened? Did a tornado carry me miles away and this was not my home, just one that looked somewhat like it? As Fred was tossing these thoughts around, he began to make his way towards the house. It was then that he heard the scream! And it was followed by some of the most vulgar words of profanity that Fred had ever heard! How dare someone use those words in my home! As he got closer, Fred realized that though there were some definite physical changes, how they get there he would investigate later, this was surely the Blanton home.

Bursting through the front door, Fred saw no sign of Norma. But again he heard more swearing coming from the next room! Intruders! Must be...oh if anyone has hurt my dear wife...or my three precious boys? Turning the corner, Fred saw a strange man standing at the kitchen table. The kitchen fact, the whole room, appeared different...somewhat similar...yet...different. Come to think of it, so did the living room. But Fred had no time to consider these things presently.

Some stranger...some man that Fred had never seen before...was in his home. The other man saw Fred and with a look of astonishment, began to move quickly towards him. Wham! Fred was faster and within seconds the unknown man was on the floor, unconscious. Yet, there was still more noise! People talking and even yelling! With no carefulness, the frenzied man rushed into the next room. Much to Fred’s disbelief, no one was there! But in the center of the room was a box and somehow that is what was producing the noises and the voices! What in the world...? The box had what appeared to be a sheet of glass on one side. Fred curiously stepped forward, eyeing this box very closely as if it was dangerous. There were...people...inside the box? I don’t understand. Getting even closer now, Fred suddenly darted around the back. No people here. What was he saying? People in a box...little people? Fred had to examine this box closer. Going to the glass again, he realized that these were ... not real people, they How? Surely, he had seen pictures before. In fact, he had some pictures at home that a photographer had taken in town two years ago. But these pictures spoke? Fred circled the box again. So, these were not real people trapped in this...thing...but rather pictures...or images.” Suddenly the yelling occurred again and the already disoriented man jumped back in fright! Such words! Words that pierced his soul! In his home...his home! Words that normally could only be heard in the vilest of places! And here was images of people that said these vulgarities over and over! As if in instinct, Fred peered around to see any sign of Norma or the boys. What if these words were heard by my Norma or my boys? How terrible! Almost instantaneously, he developed a hatred for this ungodly box. Oh, how he wept as he heard for the third time in only seconds, the name of God used in a way that was vain and blasphemous! For certainly, these vulgar persons, or rather these images, were not calling upon Him in reverence! Then a female...a woman...repeated the wicked phrase again! Enough! Fred’s heart cried out in anguish! As if the mysterious box somehow beckoned to his pleading soul, the glass went completely blank! But only for seconds. An image of a lone man, dressed very sharply, appeared now. This image also spoke. “ The conservatives in America have been hindered again. For 11 years now, abortion has been legal. Statistics reveal that at least five million babies have been terminated since this time.” Fred’s eyes grew large. Did the man say babies? Terminated? Dead? His heart sank. By the parents? No, it couldn’t be! Babies dead...apparently killed by the mother? The picture again produced words. “Some cry out that abortion is simple murder, but the Supreme Court has determined that a mother has a right to do whatever she pleases with her own body. It has been legally decided that the fetus in the womb is not life, until after the time of birth.” With those words, Fred grieved beyond description. With a grim and determined look, he walked towards the box. Such blasphemous words...such horror! Fred decided that this evil had to be stopped! Awkwardly, the distraught man pushed the insidious thing backwards with all of his might! Pieces went everywhere! The noise however instantly stopped and to Fred’s satisfaction, the images were no more. Breathing deep, he stood for long seconds staring at the object on the floor. He shuddered. Oh, how damning of a thing. And in a home. Suddenly, Fred had a very serious and sober thought. Only the devil himself would desire this monster, that was the most appropriate word Fred could think of, to be amongst a family. A noise heard, the wearied man hastily remembered his surroundings and his missing family.

Attempting not to dwell on the strangeness of his home, Fred went to the source of the sound that he heard. A cat scurried out from behind a chair that he had never seen before. Glancing around each room, Fred was very discouraged when there was no sign of his family. In fact, the only human being that could be found was the intruder that he had encountered. Fred did notice the pictures that were in every room. There were many of them and some were even colored. Oddly, none of them were of his family. But then something caught Fred’s eye. It was the date on one of the photos. 1989? What? 1989? How...what? His mind racing, the farmer recalled the box...the filthy words...the murder of babies before they even came into the world...God’s name being used so wickedly. In horror, Fred Blanton began to cry. His eyes were like that of a deranged and grief-stricken man! Like a madman, his brain being unable to comprehend all that he had witnessed in the last few minutes of his life, Fred turned and ran out the door! Hurrying towards the barn he noticed the eeriness of the sky. How utterly weird! A storm had started and it was not unlike the one he was in just a short time ago. Thunder, hail, lightning and suddenly a magnificent wind! The rain followed and drenched the poor man in mere seconds. Almost to the barn now, Fred could hardly believe his own eyes. Horses! Ten of them, all Stallions! What? But I put all of them away? Stopping, he looked up into the heavens, then slowly peered again at the animals, who were becoming somewhat frantic due to the weather. Instinctively, Fred ran to them and took a moment to lead them all into the old and decaying barn. Safe now, Fred turned and without warning, was suddenly enveloped in a bright flash! Lightning! Unconscious, the stocky farmer lay on the cold and wet ground.

Rain. It was hitting him furiously. Fred had a cold chill as he stood and regained his senses. What now...what is going on? The barn was no longer of a run-down appearance! Shaking his head, he got another chill. The rain was a cold rain and the lightning was getting more fierce by the second. Towards his home, he ran. As he did, Fred noticed that the strange poles were gone! Strange. From the distance and even through the blur of the driving storm, Fred saw an image at the window. It was Norma.

For many years I have been attempting to get God’s people as well as lost people to see the difference in what we now consider acceptable. The Bible forbids much of what comes into the living room in our homes today via the television set and other inventions. Often I have stated what a shock it would be to most people from the 1800's if they were to step into a home of this century and set their eyes in front of what many view from day to day. Through this fiction story, I pray that some will discern the slide which our world has taken in recent years and go back to the old paths and walk therein.


So what are you, Mr. Holier than thou?” quipped the curly-haired teenager sharply. Ian Langley, the lankiest of the group that stood around the lockers at Wellsboro High School, calmly answered. “No Matt, it’s just that...well... I don’t want to drink anymore. I told you, I have changed now.” The third boy spoke up and while he did, he playfully punched Ian on the arm. “C’mon Ian, be cool man. A few drinks never hurt anybody. Didn’t Jesus turn water into wine?” Steve’s wavy hair hung sloppily over his eyes. Ian’s thoughts drifted quickly. He had changed. Just three days ago, the fifteen year-old had surrendered his life to Jesus Christ. The boy knew when he was presented with the good news of the gospel, that he had a choice to make. That night as he heard the preacher, Ian was convinced that he was in trouble, that he was a terribly sinful person and that he deserved the judgment of God. He recognized like never before, that many of the things that he had done; the drinking, the swearing, occasional stealing, all were wrong in the eyes of God. Feeling like he was under God’s wrath, the youth decided that he needed to get right with God and also that he wanted a better life, a changed life. The preacher said that anyone who turned to Christ sincerely would have a new power over sinful habits and practices. And Ian knew that he was tired and ashamed of the late nights, the bullying others that he and his friends did, the shoplifting and the drunkenness that took place two or three nights a week. So Ian believed what the preacher read from the Bible, believed that he was wicked and sinful and that he was headed for eternal punishment and lastly, believed that his only hope was in the Lord Jesus Christ who shed his blood on the cross for Ian’s sins. That evening, the young man became a Christian in the true sense of the word, and he understood that he was to follow Christ and do what pleased Him. Strangely, at the moment he believed, the desire to ever drink alcohol again immediately left the teenager, and that was surely his most prevalent sin.

Ian was startled by another sensation of pain in his arm. “Well buddy, at least answer us. Are you in dreamland or what?” Ian looked aggravated at Steve who punched him and said softly to all of them, “No, I am not going out tonight guys. Sorry, I am not interested in drinking anymore or going to any more parties.” Matt instantaneously rolled his eyes. :What a fool! C’mon Steve, forget it, this guy is lost! You think you know somebody for years and then they turn their back on you. Let’s not waste our time on this jerk anymore!” The two of them started to walk away when Steve stopped and moved closer to Ian, only inches from his face. His irritation was evident. “What happened to you Ian, did’ya get brainwashed or something? Did ya join the Religious Freaks Club? What happened?” The frazzled boy glanced unconsciously at the floor as he thought for a few seconds, then responded, “I became a Christian the other day Steve...I really did...and I don’t know how to explain it...but I know that parties and the bars are not where I belong anymore.” Curiously, the other youth stared back. He had never heard anything like this before, it just made no sense to him. Pondering over his friend’s words, the wavy-locked teenager shook his head, then slowly walked away. Sure that he had made the correct choice, Ian gathered together his necessary books and left for home.

It was now ten o’clock; midnight was just around the corner. Ian was home with his mother, who had been sick for days with the flu. The young man was turning off the dishwasher when he heard his mother call for him from the next room.

Ian, I’m out of medicine! I know it’s late, but could you run up the drug store and get a prescription filled for me?” Smiling, the boy came around the corner and grabbed his jacket from the hall closet. “Sure” he said, “I would be glad to.” His mother lay on the couch, wrapped in a heavy blanket. She coughed painfully, then eyed her son suspiciously. “What has come over you tonight Ian?” the ill woman asked as she handed Ian a slip of paper. “First, you tell me that you are not going out with your friends, then you clean the kitchen and do the dishes and now you say you don’t mind running an errand for me?” Mrs. Langley leaned up slightly and raised her eyebrows. “Did you get in trouble at school today?” Ian smiled again as he reached the front door. “No mom,” he said, feeling good that for once he was being honest with his mother. He sadly remembered the numerous times that he lied about where he was going or what he was doing. That clear conscience that Ian sensed right now was a new experience and he would not trade that for anything! “I’ll talk to you when I get back mom, and no, for once it’s not bad news.” Now smiling herself, Ian’s mother sat back
with a relieved look as her son left the house. As Ian got about halfway to the 24 hour drug store, the silence of the night was suddenly interrupted by the high-pitched sound of screeching tires. And the car belonging to those tires was increasingly getting closer!

The maroon sports car, complete with stripes down both sides, turned the corner sharply and increased speed. The driver must be crazy! As the vehicle literally roared by him, the teenager quickly stepped up onto the farthest edge of the sidewalk. The hot rod whizzed by, going what seemed like 80 miles an hour! Eyes searching, Ian hoped that a police car might suddenly appear and stop this madman. But to no avail. It was then that Ian remembered! Oh no! The construction work up ahead! He looked and saw that directly in the center of the street was the large crane that the road crew had been using the last few days. Numerous orange warning cones were visible around the big vehicle, but they certainly would not hinder the dangerous machine that was now heading straight for it! Ian knew that the inevitable was about to occur and yet he could do absolutely nothing about it!

As Ian bellowed out a worthless scream of warning through the near empty street, the sports car plowed into the safety cones, sending them everywhere! Then with an enormously loud crash, the vehicle impacted with the massive crane! There was no slow motion about the scene as some recall how they witnessed certain tragic events. The hot rod had met it’s cruel fate, and that in mere seconds! The car instantly folded like an accordion! Immediately following the deafening, almost explosive, sound of the impact came the strange noise of the metal of the car literally crunching and bending!

Ian ran! He was not quite sure, but it appeared that someone was ejected from the passenger seat. As he raced past the car towards the still form that lay ahead on the concrete, Ian was startled by an unexpected shriek of pure horror! It was the driver! He was still alive, though surely not for long. The pitiful sound was one of agony...there was no other word to appropriately describe it! As Ian turned, the most likely once-popular sports car burst into flames! Within seconds, the terrified voice, sounding hardly even human, lessened in volume, and then was no more. Tears were visible in Ian’s eyes. Never before had he felt so helpless, to have someone die right in front of him, and in such obvious excruciating pain!

Just like that- a life is gone! Stunned, yet driven by adrenaline, the youth turned back to see if he could aid the other fellow. Miraculously as he got closer, Ian could actually see the body moving ever so slightly. The faint whine of a siren was now audible as he reached the young man that lay there and gently turned him over. It was obvious that the life of this individual was either already gone, or very nearly so. What! Steve! Steve! Oh, the indescribable pain that Ian felt throughout his entire body! To explain in detail the graphic picture as he looked upon his good friend would violate common decency. It was enough to say that Steve had only seconds left. There were enough obvious broken bones, cuts and gashes all over and certainly the poor boy had numerous internal injuries. Unbelievably however the eyes moved! Ian quickly held his friend at the shoulders as Steve attempted a hoarse and raspy breath. “Steve” cried Ian, tears streaming down his face. Nearly inaudible, the boy on the ground did his best to speak. Softly came out “Ian...Ian.” Steve’s eyes were intent and revealed an understanding demeanor, as if he comprehended the situation. “Ian” he whispered again, then coughed. Ian wiped away his tears and leaned closer. Was Steve trying to tell him something? Taking a half-breath, Steve spoke again, this time slower but clearer. “You were right were right.” Immediately after those words, Steve almost casually lay back his head and closed his eyes. The young boy of seventeen years was dead. He had breathed his last breath in the arms of his friend. Crying uncontrollably, Ian gripped the lifeless body before him with all of his might. The shear helplessness and utter agony that he felt was beyond description. His friend that he had known for so many years had entered the next life! No doubt, he was already in that place of torment and pain! For Steve, there was no more time that could be put off, no more tomorrow on this earth. If only he had believed in the Saviour! But it was too late for if’s. Amidst the noise of the weeping, Ian heard another sound. Turning to look, the teenager saw the source of his distraction. It was a can rolling ever so slowly from the remains of the vehicle. The sound it made as it moved across the pavement was eerie to say the least. Ian, still eyeing the can, gradually lay down his friend and stood. As the boy approached the object, his adrenaline again began to flow and his emotions started to surge. His mind so attentive now to that can, Ian did not even consciously hear the distant sirens sounding closer by the second. The determined teenager bent down and retrieved the aluminum can. It was a beer can. And there was blood on it. Angrily, Ian crushed the can with all of his might, clenching his teeth as he did so. Drops of sweat protruded from the youth’s fingers. Enraged, the boy threw the can as far as he could! “I hate you!” he yelled. Lifting his voice even more, Ian actually screamed with every ounce of strength that he could muster. “You are a killer...a murderer!” It was obvious now that he was speaking to the can which happened to bear the name of a popular brand. Charged and fueled with feeling one last time, the exhausted boy bellowed out, “I hate you and i will never touch you again!” For long seconds Ian stood there motionless and surveyed the scene. Soon the ambulance appeared. Then the crowds. Not long after was the media. And through it all, the murderer escaped accusation. But there was one that night whose life was changed forever by the events of the evening. And that young man was Ian Langely.

Wine is a mocker, strong drink is raging: and whosoever is deceived thereby is not wise.”

Proverbs 20:1

Who hath woe? who hath sorrow? who hath contentions? who hath babbling? who hath wounds without cause? who hath redness of eyes? They that tarry long at the wine; they go to seek mixed wine. Look not thou upon the wine when it is red, when it giveth his colour in the cup, when it moveth itself aright. At the last it biteth like a serpent, and stingeth like an adder. Thine eyes shall behold strange women, and thine heart shall utter perverse things. Yea, thou shalt be as he that lieth down in the midst of the sea, or as he that lieth upon the top of a mast. They have stricken me, shalt thou say and I was not sick; they have beaten me, and I felt it not: when shall I awake? I will seek it yet again.”

Proverbs 23:29-35

It is good neither to eat flesh, nor to drink wine, nor any thing whereby thy brother stumbleth, or is offended, or is made weak.”

Romans 14:21


September 5th 111A.D.

Dressed in his normal attire, Joseph Barjona stood before Emperor Decius. “What do you have to say for yourself?” questioned the Roman leader harshly.
The scrawny-looking man that was between the two guards answered firmly but respectfully. “I confess that Jesus Christ is my Lord and Saviour, Emperor Decius.” Disgusted, the man of great influence raised his voice. “You are a fool! Be prepared to die! Tomorrow morning, you will be entertainment for the masses as you become food for my lions! Take this rebel away!”

December 7th, 2003

Mr. Bessel” stated Tom Morris, President and CEO of Computer Works Industry, one of the fastest-growing and most prestigious companies in the world. “We would like to see you fill this position and become our Southern Regional Manager.” Monty Bessel was thrilled! To be in charge of seven states and acquire a raise of nearly a quarter of a million dollars annually at the same time, was more than Monty had ever expected. Tom Morris continued, “There is only one problem Monty...and that is your...well...your Christianity.” Concerned, Monty Bessel fidgeted slightly, then straightened. His boss looked him in the eye. “We understand being religious. Certainly some religion is good and I personally encourage it among my employees. But...what we desire is that you will give us your word that you will not give your religious opinions so freely and...well...that you not be so visible with your Bible.” Tom Morris gave an almost unnoticed sigh, like he was glad he was done with these last statements. Monty was surprised at the requests. He had a habit of carrying his Bible with him most places he went and as a born-again Christian, he would witness whenever he had opportunity. He again moved about in his seat, visibly revealing his discomfort with being put on the spot. The well-dressed executive felt assured that this much-coveted position would be his and he certainly had been counting on all of the benefits and rewards that came with the promotion. Yet, the choice, though difficult to make, was clear. Hesitantly, Monty responded, “I am sorry sir. I cannot promise those things.” Sternly, Tom Morris looked into Monty Bessel’s eyes with sorrow, yet a cold firmness. “ Then unfortunately, you will no longer be considered for the position of Southern Regional Manager. Good day, Mr. Bessel.”

September 6th 111 A.D.

As Joseph Barjona was being led to the center of the stadium, thousands of seated onlookers chanted and cheered. Hateful shouts and comments were audible from the crowd. Joseph’s clothes were in shreds due to the harsh beating that he had received for the last full hour. The scars and wounds, still bloody, were present throughout his entire body. Alone now, the four guards having returned to safety, Joseph watched as two of the more ferocious-looking lions were released from their cages and came closer. Dropping to his knees, the holy man opened his mouth. “Heavenly Father, I thank thee the creator of all life, for thy blessings, for the salvation that you have given me through faith in the shed blood of the Lord Jesus Christ.”

Obviously weak from the treatment he had received, Joseph fell to his knees and lifted his eyes toward heaven. “I thank thee, O God, that you have counted me worthy to suffer for you.” Closer now, the two hungry animals began circling the praying man. “May I also be found worthy to reign with you Lord in your coming kingdom, in which you shall rule and bring peace to the world.” The beasts lunged suddenly! Joseph ran not, neither did he attempt to dodge his vicious attackers. He never made it to his feet. Whether he desired to die on his knees or whether he had no time to stand, only God knew. But no matter, within less than a minute, the pair of lions had done their work and Joseph Barjona, through much suffering and horrible pain, entered into the presence of the Lord.

December 7th, 2003

Monty Bessel was disgusted! What persecution! If only others knew how much he suffered for his faith. He was sure to bring this up at Wednesday night prayer meeting! Sure, he still had his six figure salary and his company paid health and life insurance and the fancy private office, but what a price to pay for being a Christian! Yes, Monty thought to himself, what a price!

The Saints' Everlasting Rest-GIVEAWAY

This GIVEAWAY is for the book "The Saints' Everlasting Rest" by Richard Baxter.
The book is a hardback and 672 pages long. Richard Baxter was a great Puritan preacher that believed strongly in personal holiness and Godliness. In contrast to the majority of the preachers today that are liberal and do not understand true holiness, Richard Baxter was a man that took consecration very seriously. This book, which was originally published in 1650 will prove a great blessing to the sincere Christian. This is a used book, but in very good condition.

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This giveaway will end on Dec 24th.
I will contact the winner via email Dec 26th. You will have 48 hours to respond or another name will be chosen. I will use to choose the winner.


As Leon Wilder walked through the prison doors for the first time in nine years, he had the strange feeling that he would not be out for long. Other than the clothes on his back, the large muscular man carried a small suitcase and a wallet in his back pocket containing one hundred dollars. Unfortunately, financial and material prosperity was not a result of being a convicted criminal. Walking out to the end of the parking lot, Leon stepped onto the bus that was to bring him to the nearby town of Mineral Springs, Idaho.
The motel clerk was less than hospitable. Tossing down the keys roughly, he muttered, “First door on the right mister...and no trouble out of you, okay boy.” As Leon went towards the room, he heard the clerk say to another man, “Another convict! Prison gives “em a free room their first night out. Figures most of “em will be arrested ‘fore long and be thrown back into the slammer. One violation and they’re incarcerated for life!”
Leon closed the door. He couldn’t believe his eyes! It was like they wanted him to fail, to be a lawbreaker again. The whole room was one big temptation. There was a bottle of wine on the small table and many containers of stronger drink on the counter. They knew his weakness, that was for sure! Perhaps if he got something to eat, Leon could get his mind away from the inevitable choice that he knew he would have to make.
The big man ordered steak and potatoes along with a salad and a glass of milk. He pondered over the situation that one offense would totally destroy any hope of ever seeing the outside world again. It was difficult. There was something inside him that he knew would almost force him to make the choice that would cause him to be handed over to the authorities. Casually, Leon glanced around the room. The majority of people in the restaurant were eyeing the big man. They knew him, or knew of him at least. Once a criminal, always the look of a criminal, as some say. The same clerk that gave him his room key stared at Leon with a smug look on his face. In the distance could be seen the gambling room, with it’s liquor-filled participants speedily placing coins into the various machines that were present. The voice inside him was encouraging Leon to get up and enter that room but he knew it was best for him to go nowhere near that amusement center of vice and sin. Stronger came the influence from within, but Leon suppressed it. His thoughts and temptations were ended; or at least interrupted, when the waitress stopped at his table and spoke. “Free drinks tonight with dinner honey...what’ll it be...we got it all here, all the popular brands and it won’t cost you a dime. Just tell me your drink and I’ll come back in a little for your order?” Leon could sense that all eyes were upon him. He was the center of attention. He began to break out into a sweat and eventually answered, “Just give me a milk please.” Immediately, the young woman loudly repeated his response. “Milk.
Did you say milk, mister?” Nearly all in the place burst into laughter. The customers as well as the clerks and other employees. Boy, did they want him to mess up! Restraining himself even more, Leon pulled a small black book from his pocket and opened up his Bible.
A few minutes later, after his order was taken, the waitress delivered his salad. This was simultaneous with three men taking a seat at the round table next to him. They were tough types, the first one was bald with tatoos all over his arms. The second man was bearded and looked like a lumberjack and the third was an obvious weightlifter, taller than his friends and even more muscular than Leon.
As the lone man bowed his head to pray silently, the trio of toughs gave a chorus of laughter. Leon continued anyway until he was through. The bald one spoke first with, “Only sissy’s pray” while the others joined in similar comments. “Yeah” said the lumberjack type, “and only sissy’s drink milk instead of ale.” Leon was getting tense. Oh, how they all knew his weakness. They were obviously setting him up. The problem was that Leon knew that he could not make it much longer. He would give in under the pressure and live the rest of his life in some prison cell. Would it be worth the price? The bodybuilder nodded to his balding friend, who in turn got up and pulled up a chair right next to Leon. He grabbed a bottle of one of the most popular brands of alcohol on the market and sat down with a smile on his face. “Here you go friend,” he said, waving it directly under Leon’s nose. “Just smell it sissy, it’s much better than milk!” Leon was giving in. He was going to yield, he knew it. The tough held out the bottle to Leon. “Just take it buddy, it’s all yours!” The other two laughed and again Leon could tell that every eye in the restaurant was upon him. The power inside was too strong and finally Leon gave in. He reached out his hand and stood suddenly! The outstretched hand did not touch the bottle, but became a closed hand with one finger pointing. “The Holy Word of God says to touch not the unclean thing.” Leon’s voice rose in volume as he yielded to the urging of the Holy Spirit within him. “Wine is a mocker, strong drink is raging and whosoever is deceived thereby is not wise. God condemns drunkenness according to First Corinthians chapter nine and you reject Jesus Christ who can deliver you from that accursed drink!” As Leon took a breath, the balding man yelled over to the clerk, “You heard him with your own ears Joe, call 911 right away, I knew we would get him!” The crowd of onlookers cheered as the toughs stood up with their hands in the air to display victory. The lumberjack clenched his fists, “I knew we’d get ya, lawbreaker. You are going back!”
Minutes later, three uniformed policemen came in and after handcuffing Leon Wilder, they escorted the quiet and cooperative man back to the prison. You see, the time is somewhere in the near future and the most intolerant, vicious criminal act that a person can commit is rebuking the sins of others and sharing the gospel of Jesus Christ.

Yea, and all that will live godly in Christ Jesus shall suffer persecution.”
2 Timothy 3:12


Wilson Anderson stood before the Lord as his entire life was displayed from his birth to his death.

Everything was there; his childhood temper tantrums, his rebellion towards his parents as a teenager and the many wild and sinful actions during those years. Many scenes of drunkenness and swearing were pictured throughout his life. The terrified man shuddered as over and over he saw himself saying words that were vulgar and wicked. One of the more common of those phrases was taking the Lord’s name in vain. Previous to this time, Wilson certainly didn’t consider these words to be wrong or sinful, but as he stood now before the Saviour of the world, the HOLY LORD JESUS, the timid man felt ashamed and wretched.

The Son of God spoke to the angel that was on His left. The beautiful creature opened one of the set of books that was in front of him. “On November 14th, 1963, a high school classmate attempted to explain to you that the Lord Jesus Christ died to save you from your sins. You cursed him and then physically assaulted him.” The being continued, “On May 4th, 1970 another servant of the Most High God, a co-worker, asked if you had ever renounced your sin and turned to the Lord. You called her a fanatic and publicly mocked her. Finally, December 30th of the year 1999, a gospel tract was placed on your vehicle, and upon discovering it, you tore it up and threw it to the ground.”

The angel authoritatively addressed him now. “Wilson A. Anderson, despite these attempts for the Saviour to reach you with the everlasting gospel, you constantly rejected Him. You chose to follow your path and not the path of God. If you had only turned from your way of sin and turned to the Saviour, He would have delivered you from your sin and set you on the path of righteousness. The Lord Jesus Christ came to deliver you Wilson A. Anderson from eternal punishment. The Holy Lord God came to earth in the form of a man and lived the perfect and sinless life that neither you, nor any anyone, could have lived. Then He was put on a cross, where men whom He created, drove nails through His hands and watched Him suffer and die.” The angel looked directly into Wilson’s eyes. “The Lord Jesus Christ, Lord of all, was punished for your sins, for your wickedness, yet you chose to reject Him.” The creature closed the books in front of him. “Wilson A. Anderson, you are hereby sentenced to eternity in the lake which burneth with fire and brimstone. There will NEVER be an escape from this horrible place. It has always been the desire of the Lord that you would not perish, but that you would yield to His call, that your sins would be forgiven you.”

Wilson screamed in horror, dropping immediately to his knees. He barely heard the angel’s wings as two of them appeared and picked up the distraught and powerless man. As Wilson Anderson looked down thousands of feet below at the enormous lake that was described only seconds ago, he could feel the immense heat painfully piercing his body. Helplessly, Wilson fell. And before he reached the flames that would forever be his home, his last thoughts were, If only I had listened. But now it was too late.


Well, I guess that my story begins over 25 years ago. I was a typical teenager and the only thing that I knew of religion was what I learned from a church I went to as a small boy. My mother died in a car accident when I was eight years-old and of course it was very difficult for all of us, particularly my father. We were not from a religious home by any means, in fact my mother was an up and coming Country Music singer and my father was at the horse track at least once a week. My parents, like most, were well-intentioned in raising us, but not once was Jesus ever brought up in our home and to my recollection, the Bible was never opened. It is not my intention to dishonor either my mother or my father in sharing these things, but to let the reader know some of my family background. My parents always provided and cared for my twin brother, Sam and I, despite some difficult times financially. I never doubted their love for either of us and I appreciate especially, that after my mother died, my father decided to keep both of us boys with him in a day that a man caring for children alone was uncommon.

So when the tragedy occurred in 1969, my father’s recourse to assist Sam and I with the loss of my mother, was to send us to a small Baptist Church in Malta, N.Y. near famous Saratoga Springs. The Sunday School bus would bring us to and fro and occasionally my dad would show up for the worship service. I do not remember much about our time there, but two things I will never forget. The first is a simple object and that was the pulpit. More specifically, I recall that there was a Bible verse on the front of it and I believe it was John 3:16. And though I have absolutely no recollection of the Pastor, I remember well my Sunday School Teacher. He was probably in his late forties at the time, was fairly tall with very dark hair and wore black eyeglasses. As I look back, this man cared much for his students. Here this was, over 30 years ago, and I can still remember that he would come and visit my dad and my brother and I. Now of course I cannot be sure, but it would be a good guess that he was witnessing to my father about Christ those many times he was in our home. So no, I had no spectacular childhood conversion, but I can’t help but wonder if some seeds of the gospel were planted during that year or so that we attended that little Baptist Church with the faithful worker that I have never been able to forget.

Back to being a teenager. I did have a sense of righteousness, of right and wrong. Perhaps it was that influence that I had as a youth in Sunday School but I despised certain sins, especially stealing. Except of course, a short time later when I began stealing. As a young teen, I vowed that I would never drink alcohol, just because I thought it was a stupid thing to do. But as I got a little older and got under some peer pressure, I started that too, and I did it with all my might. At the same time I took up weightlifting and soon I was bench-pressing over 300 pounds while only weighing about 130. My pride soared and I would drink to excess to prove that I could handle it better than those around me. I cursed constantly, mainly to shock others and to prove my “manliness.” I often would challenge people to fight because it gave me a thrill to see them back down in fear. One of my best friends stole a siren from an unmarked fireman’s car and I placed on my vehicle and would use it to pull over innocent people and threaten them with a ticket. I did many crazy and wicked things that I am now completely ashamed of. Inside I was very insecure and these activities and habits gave me the feeling of being somebody. One time, I was in a grocery store with friends purchasing alcohol for our night out and we saw two men carrying Bibles. I do not know if they were Mormons, Jehovah’s Witnesses, Baptists or from some other group, but my response was to laugh. How could they believe some book that was written so long ago. Didn’t they see all the fun they were missing in life. Boy, doesn’t God have a sense of humor?

During this time, my brother Sam, became a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, commonly referred to as the LDS or the Mormons. He became very devout very quickly and my dad began encouraging me to join so that would be a better person. After all, my brother was in early every night while I was constantly breaking curfew. He listened to soft rock, while I was involved with the middle-ground rock and attending concerts when I could. He was more moral and more obedient to my father, while I was getting worse. No, I was not in jail or anything (though I certainly deserved it) but I was bad enough that my dad would ask his police officer friends what to do with me as I was beginning to get out of hand. So, after listening to the LDS missionaries that Sam had begged me to hear, I went through the steps and joined the Mormon church. Now here opens up much controversy with the Mormons. I joined because I believed what they told me, about Joseph Smith and the Book of Mormon etc. and for a couple of other reasons. After all, why should I believe they would lie to me. They were religious people and certainly better than me. Of course they were telling me the truth. The second reason is surely it couldn’t hurt me. Maybe there was a better way than the life that I was living. Thirdly, and I know that this is so spiritual it will awe you, but I was interested in a couple of the girls in the Church. There you have it, three honest reasons, though I am not sure what order of importance I would have placed each reason at the time.

Now Mormons love to attack me for my testimony. I got them so stirred up years later, when I was teaching on the errors of Mormonism, that someone from the LDS church interviewed me concerning my time of membership in the Church. When he heard about my interest in the girls, he attacked me verbally. He had found his proof! According to him, I never really believed and therefore that was my problem. The truth of the matter is, for a time I was seeking after the truth! I was yearning for an answer to that emptiness that I was feeling. My brother had goals, he had friends that apparently had fun without drinking etc. I desired peace with God and I became very involved in the Mormon Church for some time. I went to the youth activities, the dances, the trips to Disney with the friends from the Church. I lived with a Mormon family for many months and even went with LDS missionaries as they went door-to-door! I wanted the answers, I wanted peace, I wanted that void in my life to be filled, but the truth is-as a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, I NEVER found it! I discovered religion, I discovered many sincere people, I discovered a system, but I NEVER found peace or contentment or the answers to life. I never found change! Outside of the above-mentioned things and church attendance, I was still the same person, even though at times I was more subdued! I wanted desperately spiritual truth, but to no avail with the Mormons; that is my testimony.

It was 1979 and High School was over. Due to my dad’s health problems, he decided to move to Florida and despite some hesitation, I went with him. I was really in the dark; I had no goals and college did not interest me. So after arriving in New Port Richey, Florida, I found a job and went to work. I was still a member of the LDS Church and began attending the Ward there.

After just a short time, a friend of my father’s, named Ward, invited Sam and I over to dinner with him and his wife. They were a nice couple but I found out that they had an ulterior motive. When the meal was finished, this older man opened his Bible and began quizzing us on Mormonism. For the next hour or so, he tactfully revealed to us many contradictions between Mormonism itself and between Mormonism and the Bible. If my memory serves me correctly, by the time the conversation was over, he let us know that we were believing a lie and that if we died in that belief, we would end up in a real literal place called Hell. We both listened, but my brother afterwards stated that he would never return to their home. I however did go back and eventually went to a meeting with them at a small non-denominational church. This Pastor explained that salvation was found only when one trusted Christ as their personal Saviour and at the end of the service he gave an invitation for anyone who wanted to be saved. Christ dying for my sins made sense to me, so I raised my hand. Well, according to everyone there, I was now saved. I continued going there, but for those of you reading this; my life did not change, other than the fact that I was now going to Church! In fact soon after, I went into the Army Reserves Basic training and frankly, I was as wicked as ever! I did go to the base chapel Baptist services, but again, my everyday life was basically the same as before. Now here opens a great Christian controversy! Does someone become a Christian when they acknowledge Jesus Christ as their Saviour, when they believe the facts of the gospel, or is there something more? The majority today will side with the “just believe” theology and state that I was a Christian but I was not “dedicated”. But friend, I tell you that the majority is WRONG! I fully believe that if I had died during that time, though I had a profession of belief in Christ, that I would have went straight to hell-without passing heaven!

Months later I returned from basic training and really did some soul-searching. I went more regularly to the Bible church in Hudson, FL and became more active in the youth group, etc. Sad to say that what I saw from the youth there revealed to me that something was wrong. They cursed, they told the filthy jokes, they were immoral. This was both sexes and out of about a dozen teenagers, I remember not even one that left me with the impression that they were a “Christian”, though each and every one had made this “profession” equal to myself. I did not judge for I did not know any better, I just made an observation. Within a couple of months I understood, but as of yet, I still was not any different than I was before I made this profession, excepting again, that I was becoming a regular in the church house.

Well, after this as I continued my soul-searching I began to sense a real lack in my life. I knew no theology and as far as everyone was telling me at that time, I was a Christian because I knew “Jesus died for my sins”. I was in my car one evening and I sensed a presence, an influence so to speak. A leading, a drawing. No audible voice, no Oral Roberts baloney about seeing a 70 foot Jesus. But it was a very strong impression that I needed to give my life to the LORD JESUS CHRIST. My emptiness had met it’s match. For this power, this overshadowing was nothing less than the Holy Spirit of God! You see friend, it was not enough for me to believe the facts of the gospel, nor is it enough to believe in Jesus as your Saviour. One must yield to the convicting power of the Holy Spirit of the True and Living God and surrender to the Lord Jesus Christ! This was my conversion, this was my new birth. It was not was salvation! I turned to Jesus Christ as my Lord and Saviour while bowing my heart in my car. Jesus Christ died for me, saved me, and desired that I surrender to Him and live for Him. Hallelujah! A wonderful peace indwelt me, something had happened!

That was in 1981. And many things were changing and all I understood was that it was the Holy Spirit’s leading. My language changed immediately and I did not even try to change it! Since that time in my vehicle where I surrendered to the LORD I have never cussed again!! Thanks be to God! This was real! Just a couple of weeks after, I went back to New York state to visit with my dad. I was picked up by my best friend and went to his house. Two or three times this friend’s mother offered me an alcoholic drink and I refused. Well, each of them pressured me so I finally gave in. I think I took one sip, maybe two. But boy did I feel strange! Then afterwards, a small group of us went out as sort of a last goodbye to each other. Well, the place my friend chose was a bar, and why not, for that environment was normally what suited us.

We went in and after fifteen or twenty minutes of rock music, cigarette smoke and Budweiser I had enough. But I did not understand why. The Holy Spirit had so much control of me that I had to leave that place. I have not drank a drop since I entered there, and though I knew not even one scripture about alcohol or separation, I literally had to depart! Whereas I gave into peer pressure at Tom’s home only minutes before, I felt stronger now. It was like there were two opposing forces at work, but I could not explain it. Of course now I realize that it was the Holy Spirit of God resisting the forces of Satan that were so real in that bar. What kind of a “Christian”, what kind of a follower of Christ was I, to be in a place so contrary to righteousness? Now I speak to “Christians” who tell me that routinely they go to bars and sip a cola while “witnessing” to friends about Jesus. Sounds to me like a take-off on the sixty’s flower child movement. I sense that I am not too far off.

Well, I left and almost got into a fistfight with my tipsy best friend in doing so. But that evening God got the victory and my new nature was strengthened. That was over twenty years ago and the Lord has done much in my life since. Unfortunately I confess that I have not always followed the Holy Spirit’s leading as closely as I did in those early days. There are times when I have yielded to Him and times where I have failed. It is my express desire to be a better Christian, to be exactly what the Lord wants me to be and during this journey there have been many struggles and I have made many mistakes. Yet the Lord has used me in many ways, especially regarding evangelism and confronting false doctrine. I do not in any way seek to lift myself up, but it is my desire to share with some of God’s people some situations that many have found interesting. It is at the prompting of some Christian friends that I am writing these words. And regardless of whether you agree or disagree with some of my actions or words, please understand that in these cases my interest was in the furtherance of the gospel and the truth of the Word of God. The scripture states, “To the law and to the testimony, if they speak not according to this word, it is because there is no light in them”. The Bible is the standard. Not man’s opinions, not the theological professor, not the charismatic television evangelist, not Billy Graham, certainly not the pope, and not even the pastor in your church! And if they are anything remotely close to spiritual, they will acknowledge that the above words are true. We live in a day where the Bible is the most purchased book, but the least read. It is in tens of thousands of pulpits across America every Sunday, but it is not obeyed. The Holy Word of God is in the homes of numerous hordes of professing Christians throughout this land, yet most barely open it up, let alone study it. We are truly in a time where we have a famine of the Word of God, even though any Dollar Store carries them for just that price. Believers can pay outrageous prices for “Christian” concerts but do not know the roles for husbands and wives. Some profess the “baptism of the Holy Ghost” yet send their children to secular schools so all the family devotions and Sunday preaching they have received can be undermined. Most preachers will tell their congregations of godly men like George Muller and Hudson Taylor, yet dare not live sacrificially like any of these men. It is my prayer that this journal so to speak, will encourage some to stand for God when most are not, and that some will turn off the television and get on the streets with Bible and tracts in hand. If a handful of people, actually if one person, became a serving, working, discerning and spiritually-minded Christian, then this book was worth all of my effort and time. Also, I would like to mention that unfortunately as much as I will try to be chronological, I know that to write in such a manner would be too difficult. And also I say unashamedly that the only Bible that I ever quote from or refer to is the King James Bible, and I believe it to be the Word of God. And my doctrinal stance is Baptistic. I believe in all the fundamentals of the faith including salvation by grace through faith that leads to a changed life, the virgin birth, the deity of Christ, the trinity, and a literal punishment in the lake of fire for those that reject Christ. And I offer no apology for my stand on these issues. So on that note, I begin “Twenty Years Fighting The Devil”.