Chicken Soup

[HisDaughter]

The Jackie Robinson Story
By Charles W. Colson

At New York's Shea Stadium, two years ago, baseball commissioner Bud Selig announced that number 42 would be retired by the major leagues forever. It was a mark of honor for the man who had worn that number-the man who broke baseball's color barrier in 1947: Jackie Robinson.

February is Black History Month, and our kids have been hearing a lot about Robinson's quiet dignity in the face of racial bigotry on the ball field. But what many of them are not hearing is the source of Robinson's ability to turn the other cheek: It was his faith in Jesus Christ.

Robinson was born in 1919 into a culture steeped in racism. And from early childhood it drove Robinson mad. Historian Jackson Lears, writing in the New Republic, says Robinson had "a reputation as a mad brawler, always ready to smash in the teeth of any white man who insulted him." Later, at UCLA, he gained a reputation as a thug.

But it was also at UCLA that Robinson began to encounter the forces that would free him from some of his rage. One was a nursing student named Rachel Isum, whom he later married. The other was a black minister named Karl Downs, whose hard-hitting sermons taught Robinson that Christianity was not a synonym for racial submission.

By 1945 Robinson had developed a firm conviction that God had an important purpose for his life. That purpose became clear when Robinson was summoned to the office of Branch Rickey, general manager for the Brooklyn Dodgers. Rickey was determined to make history by putting the first black player on a major league team. But first Rickey made certain Robinson understood what he would face: everything from racial epithets to physical assaults to hotel clerks refusing him accommodations.

Rickey challenged Robinson, telling him he was "looking for a ballplayer with guts enough not to fight back"-a phrase that has since become legendary.

What is less well known is that Rickey also handed Robinson a copy of a book by Giovanni Papini called The Life of Christ. And he reminded Robinson of the words of Jesus: "Resist not evil: but whosoever shall smite thee on thy right cheek, turn to him the other also."

By quoting Scripture, Lears writes, Rickey "was hitting Robinson in the heart, invoking the Methodist Christianity that they shared."

Robinson's struggle began as soon as he walked out onto the ball field wearing a Dodgers uniform. During his ten years with the Dodgers, he endured racist remarks, death threats, and unfair calls by umpires. But Robinson's faith helped him keep his anger in check. Every night, he got on his knees and prayed for self-control.

"Through all the frustrations," writes Lears, "his Christianity sustained him."

Robinson left baseball in 1956 and spent the rest of his life working in the civil-rights movement. Despite personal tragedies and setbacks, Robinson's faith in Christ never wavered.

As Black History Month ends, make sure your own children learn about Jackie Robinson. But beware: Some biographies of Robinson written for children don't even mention his Christian faith. Our kids deserve to know the full story of the hero who broke baseball's color barrier.

The man whose faith helped him overcome racial prejudice to make baseball history and become a great national legend.

Copyright (c) 1999 Prison Fellowship Ministries

Any copying, re-transmission, distribution, printing, or other use of BreakPoint must set forth the following credit line, in full, at the conclusion of the portion of BreakPoint that is used:

Copyright (c) 1999 Prison Fellowship Ministries. Reprinted with permission. "BreakPoint with Chuck Colson" is a radio ministry of Prison Fellowship Ministries.

[HisDaughter]

Monday - Wash Day

Lord, help me wash away all my selfishness and vanity, so I may serve you with perfect humility through the week ahead.

Tuesday - Ironing Day

Dear Lord, help me iron out all the wrinkles of prejudice I have collected though the years so that I may see the beauty in others.

Wednesday - Mending Day

O God, help me mend my ways so I will not set a bad example for others.

Thursday - Cleaning Day

Lord Jesus, help me to dust out all the many faults I have been hiding in the secret corners of my heart.

Friday - Shopping Day

O God, give me the grace to shop wisely so I may purchase eternal happiness for myself and all others in need of love

Saturday - Cooking Day

Help me, my Savior, to brew a big kettle of brotherly love and serve it with clean, sweet bread of human kindness.

Sunday - The Lord's Day

O God, I have prepared my house for you. Please come into my heart as my honored guest so I may spend the day and the rest of my life in your presence.

[HisDaughter]

HAPPY 4TH OF JULY!

[HisDaughter]

I got up this morning and threw on my favorite pair of old jeans. . .

Now, this old pair of jeans, my wife hates them. . . . .

She would have tossed them out years ago if she thought I wouldn't raise Cain over it.

You see they are pretty old and well worn. They are faded out to almost the point of being white but with just enough of a tint to know they were once blue.

They are torn and tattered, and so worn out that the denim is now as soft as a ball of cotton.

Needless to say they probably should have been tossed out years ago . . . .

But I look past the imperfections in these old jeans and find that they are still my favorites.

Well, I poured a cup of coffee, like always, and started thinking about that old pair of jeans. . . . .

then I thought about how we are just like that old pair of jeans. . .

Torn and tattered, and full of imperfections . . .

Yet somehow the Good Lord finds a way to look past all of our imperfections

and still find it in his heart to Love us.

Just a thought over coffee!

[HisDaughter]

Gone Camping!

[nChrist]

Gone Camping!

Hello Grammyluv,

I remember hearing you talk about how much you enjoy camping, so I hope that you have a great and safe time. As for me, camping has always been a disaster that resembles Three Stooges Episodes. There is no way that I could ever talk my wife into trying it again because we were fortunate just to survive our camping attempts. We look back and laugh about them now, but we were horrible campers. If anything could go wrong, it did.   

I'll tell you a horror story about one of our camping experiences one day. For now, let's just say that the raccoons were laughing at us during our last attempt.   

Love In Christ,
Tom

Hebrews 10:22 ASV  22  let us draw near with a true heart in fulness of faith, having our hearts sprinkled from an evil conscience: and having our body washed with pure water,

[HisDaughter]

How Old Is Grandad?

One evening a grandson was talking to his grandfather about current events.
The grandson asked his grandfather what he thought about the shootings at schools, the computer age, and just things in general.

The Grandfather replied, 'Well, let me think a minute, I was born before:

' television

' penicillin

' polio shots

' frozen foods

' Xerox

' contact lenses

' Frisbees and

' the pill

There were no:

'credit cards

' laser beams or

' ball-point pens

Man had not invented:

'panty hose

' air conditioners

' dishwashers

' clothes dryers

' and the clothes were hung out to dry in the fresh air and

' man hadn't yet walked on the moon


Your Grandmother and I got married first, . . ... and then lived together.

Every family had a father and a mother.

Until I was 25, I called every man older than me, 'Sir'.
And after I turned 25, I still called policemen and every man with a title, 'Sir.'

We were before gay-rights, computer- dating, dual careers, day-care centers, and group therapy.

Our lives were governed by the Ten Commandments, good judgment, and common sense..

We were taught to know the difference between right and wrong and to stand up and take responsibility for our actions.
Serving your country was a privilege; living in this country was a bigger privilege.

We thought fast food was what people ate during Lent.

Having a meaningful relationship meant getting along with your cousins.

Draft dodgers were people who closed their front doors when the evening breeze started.

Time-sharing meant time the family spent together in the evenings and weekends-not purchasing condominiums.

We never heard of FM radios, tape decks, CDs, electric typewriters, yogurt, or guys wearing earrings.

We listened to the Big Bands, Jack Benny, and the President's speeches on our radios.

And I don't ever remember any kid blowing his brains out listening to Tommy Dorsey.

If you saw anything with 'Made in  Japan  ' on it, it was junk

The term 'making out' referred to how you did on your school exam.

Pizza Hut, McDonald's, and instant coffee were unheard of.

We had 5 &10-cent stores where you could actually buy things for 5 and 10 cents.

Ice-cream cones, phone calls, rides on a streetcar, and a Pepsi were all a nickel.

And if you didn't want to splurge, you could spend your nickel on enough stamps to mail 1 letter and 2 postcards.

You could buy a new Chevy Coupe for $600, . . but who could afford one?
Too bad, because gas was 11 cents a gallon.

In my day:

' 'grass' was mowed,

' 'coke' was a cold drink,

' 'pot' was something your mother cooked in and

' 'rock music' was your grandmother's lullaby.

' 'Aids' were helpers in the Principal's office,

' 'chip' meant a piece of wood,

' 'hardware' was found in a hardware store and

' 'software' wasn't even a word.

And we were the last generation to actually believe that a lady needed a husband to have a baby No wonder people call us 'old and confused' and say there is a generation gap... and how old do you think I am?

I bet you have this old man in mind... you are in for a shock!

Read on to see -- pretty scary if you think about it and pretty sad at the same time..

Are you ready ??



This man would be only 59 years old.

[nChrist]

VERY NICE! - Thanks! - I enjoyed that trip down memory lane.

[HisDaughter]

God's Message to Woman

When I created the heavens and the earth, I spoke them into being. When I created man, I formed him and breathed life into his nostrils. But you, woman, I fashioned after I breathed the breath of life into man because your nostrils are too delicate. I allowed a deep sleep to come over him so I could patiently and perfectly fashion you.

Man was put to sleep so that he could not interfere with the creativity. From one bone I fashioned you. I chose the bone that protects man's life. I chose the rib, which protects his heart and lungs and supports him, as you are meant to do.

Around this one bone I shaped you. I modeled you. I created you perfectly and beautifully. Your characteristics are as the rib, strong yet delicate and fragile. You provide protection for the most delicate organ in man, his heart. His heart is the center of his being; his lungs hold the breath of life. The rib cage will allow itself to be broken before it will allow damage to the heart.

Support man as the rib cage supports the body. You were not taken from his feet, to be under him, nor were you taken from his head, to be above him. You were taken from his side, to stand beside him and be held close to his side. You are my perfect angel. You are my beautiful little girl. You have grown to be a splendid woman of excellence, and my eyes fill when I see the virtue in your heart. Your eyes -- don't change them. Your lips -- how lovely when they part in prayer. Your nose so perfect in form, your hands so gentle to touch.

I've caressed your face in your deepest sleep; I've held your heart close to mine. Of all that lives and breathes, you are the most like me.

Adam walked with me in the cool of the day and yet he was lonely. He could not see me or touch me. He could only feel me. So everything I wanted Adam to share and experience with me, I fashioned in you: my holiness, my strength, my purity, my love, my protection and support.

You are special because you are the extension of me. Man represents my image -- woman, my emotions. Together, you represent the totality of God.

So man -- "treat woman well. Love her, respect her, for she is fragile". In hurting her, you hurt me. What you do to her, you do to me. In crushing her, you only damage your own heart, the heart of your Father and the heart of her Father. Woman, support man. In humility, show him the power of emotion I have given you. In gentle quietness show your strength. In love, show him that you are the rib that protects his inner self.

[HisDaughter]

Sometimes You Have To Travel

For years I'd thought Timbuktu was just a made-up name for the ends of the earth. When I found out it was a real place in Africa, I developed an inexplicable fascination for it. It was in 1986 on a fact-finding trip to West Africa for Mission Aviation Fellowship that this fascination became an irresistible urge. Timbuktu wasn't on my itinerary, but I knew I had to go there.

Once I arrived, I discovered I was in trouble. I'd hitched a ride from Bamako, Mali, 500 miles away, on the only seat left on a Navajo six-seater airplane chartered by UNICEF. Two of their doctors were in Timbuktu and might fly back on the return flight, which meant Id be bumped,but I decided to take the chance.

Now here I was, standing by the plane on the windswept outskirts of the famous Berber outpost. There was not a spot of true green anywhere in the desolate brown Saharan landscape. Dust blew across the sky, blotting out the sun as I squinted in the 110-degree heat, trying to make out the mud-walled buildings of the village of 20,000.

The pilot approached me as I started for town. He reported that the doctors were on their way and I'd have to find another ride to Bamako.

Try the marketplace. Someone there might have a truck. But be careful, he said. Westerners don't last long in the desert if the truck breaks down, which often happens.

I didn't relish the thought of being stranded, but perhaps it was fitting that I should wind up like this, surrounded by the Sahara. Since I arrived in Africa the strain of the harsh environment and severe suffering of the starving peoples had left me feeling lost in a spiritual and emotional desert.

The open-air marketplace in the center of town was crowded. Men and women wore flowing robes and turbans as protection against the sun. Most of the Berbers robes were dark blue, with 30 feet of material in their turbans alone. The men were well-armed with scimitars and knives. I felt that eyes were watching me suspiciously.

Suspicion was understandable in Timbuktu. Nothing could be trusted here. These people had once been prosperous and self-sufficient. Now even their land had turned against them. Drought had turned rich grasslands to desert. Unrelenting sun and windstorms had nearly annihilated all animal life. People were dying by the thousands.

I went from person to person trying to find someone who spoke English, until I finally came across a local gendarme who understood my broken French.

I need a truck, I said. I need to go to Bamako.

Eyes widened in his shaded face. No truck, he shrugged. Then he added, No road. Only sand.

By now, my presence was causing a sensation in the marketplace. I was surrounded by at least a dozen small children, jumping and dancing, begging for coins and souvenirs. The situation was extreme, I knew. I tried to think calmly. What am I to do?

Suddenly I had a powerful desire to talk to my father. Certainly he had known what it was like to be a foreigner in a strange land. But my father, Nate Saint, was dead. He was one of the five missionary men killed by Auca Indians in the jungles of Ecuador in 1956. I was a month shy of my fifth birthday at the time, and my memories of him were almost like movie clips: a lanky, intense man with a serious goal and a quick wit. He was a dedicated jungle pilot, flying missionaries and medical personnel in his Piper Family Cruiser. Even after his death he was a presence in my life.

I'd felt the need to talk with my father before, especially since I'd married and become a father myself. But in recent weeks this need had become urgent. For one thing I was new to relief work. But it was more than that. I needed Dad to help answer my new questions of faith. In Mali, for the first time in my life, I was surrounded by people who didnt share my faith, who were, in fact, hostile to the Christian faith, locals and Western relief workers alike.

In a way it was a parallel to the situation Dad had faced in Ecuador. How often I'd said the same thing Dad would have said among the Indians who killed him: My God is real. Hes a personal God who lives inside me, with whom I have a very special, one-on-one relationship. And yet the question lingered in my mind: Did my father have to die? All my life, people had spoken of Dad with respect; he was a man willing to die for his faith.

But at the same time I couldnt help but think the murders were capricious, an accident of bad timing. Dad and his colleagues landed just as a small band of Auca men were in a bad mood for reasons that had nothing to....

cont....

[HisDaughter]

cont....


If Dad's plane had landed one day later, the massacre may not have happened. Couldn't there have been another way? It made little impact on the Aucas that I could see. To them it was just one more killing in a history of killings. Thirty years later it still had an impact on me.

And now, for the first time, I felt threatened because of who I was and what I believed. God, I found myself praying as I looked around the marketplace, I'm in trouble here. Please keep me safe and show me a way to get back. Please reveal Yourself and Your love to me the way You did to my father.

No bolt of lightning came from the blue. But a new thought did come to mind. Surely there was a telecommunications office here somewhere; I could wire Bamako to send another plane. It would be costly, but I could see no other way of getting out.

Wheres the telecommunications office? I asked another gendarme.

He gave me instructions, then said, Telegraph transmits only. If station in Bamako has machine on, message goes through. If not. He shrugged. No answer ever comes. You only hope message received.

Now what? The sun was crossing toward the horizon. If I didn't have arrangements made by nightfall, what would happen to me? This was truly the last outpost of the world. More than a few Westerners had disappeared in the desert without a trace.

Then I remembered that just before Id started for Timbuktu, a fellow worker had said, Theres a famous mosque in Timbuktu. It was built from mud in the 1500s. Many Islamic pilgrims visit it every years. But theres also a tiny Christian church, which virtually no one visits. Look it up if you get a chance.

I asked the children, Where is Eglise Evangelique Chretienne?

The youngsters were willing to help, though they were obviously confused about what I was looking for. Several times elderly men and women scolded them harshly as we passed, but they persisted. Finally we arrived, not at the church, but at the open doorway of a tiny mud-brick house. No one was home, but on the wall opposite the door was a poster showing a cross covered by wounded hands. The French subscript said, "And by His stripes we are healed."

Within minutes, my army of waifs pointed out a young man approaching us in the dirt alleyway. Then the children melted back into the labyrinth of the walled alleys and compounds of Timbuktu. The young man was handsome, with dark skin and flowing robes. But there was something inexplicably different about him.

His name was Nouh Ag Infa Yatara; that much I understood. Nouh signaled he knew someone who could translate for us. He led me to a compound on the edge of town where an American missionary lived. I was glad to meet the missionary, but from the moment Id seen Nouh Id had the feeling that we shared something in common.

How did you come to have faith? I asked him.

The missionary translated as Nouh answered. This compound has always had a beautiful garden. One day when I was a small boy, a friend and I decided to steal some carrots. It was a dangerous task. Wed been told that Toubabs (white men) eat nomadic children. Despite our agility and considerable experience, I was caught by the former missionary here. Mr. Marshall didnt eat me; instead he gave me the carrots and some cards that had Gods promises from the Bible written on them. He said if I learned them, he would give me an ink pen!

You learned them? I asked.

Oh yes! Only government men and the headmaster of the school had a Bic pen! But when I showed off my pen at school, the teacher knew I must have spoken with a Toubab, which is strictly forbidden. He severely beat me.

When Nouhs parents found out he had portions of such a despised book defiling their house, they threw him out and forbade anyone to take him in; nor was he allowed in school. But something had happened: Nouh had come to believe that what the Bible said was true. Nouh's mother became desperate. Her own standing, as well as her family's, was in jeopardy. Finally she decided to kill her son. She obtained poison from a sorcerer and poisoned Noauh's food at a family feast. Nouh ate the food and wasn't affected. His brother, who unwittingly stole a morsel of meat from the deadly dish, became violently ill and remains partially paralyzed. Seeing God's intervention, the family and the townspeople were afraid to make further attempts on his life, but condemned him as an outcast.

After sitting a moment, I asked Nouh the question that only hours earlier I'd wanted to ask my father: Why is your faith so important to you that yourre willing to give up everything, perhaps even your life?

I know God loves me and I'll live with Him forever. I know it! Now I have peace where I used to be full of fear and uncertainty. Who wouldn't want to give up everything for this peace and security?

It couldn't have been easy for you as a teenager to take a stand that made you despised by the whole community, I said. Where did your courage come from?

Mr. Marshall couldn't take me in without putting my life in jeopardy. so he gave me some books about other Christians who'd suffered for their faith. My favorite was about five young men who willingly risked their lives to take God's good news to stone age Indians in the jungles of South America. His eyes widened. I've lived all my life in the desert. How frightening the jungle must be! The book said these men let themselves be speared to death, even though they had guns and could have killed their attackers!

The missionary translator said, I remember the story. As a matter of fact, one of those men had your last name.
Yes, I said quietly, the pilot was my father.
Your father? Nouh cried. The story is true!
Yes, I said, it's true.

The missionary and Nouh and I talked through the afternoon. When they accompanied me back to the airfield that night, we found that the doctors werent able to leave Timbuktu after all, and there was room for me on the UNICEF plane.

As Nouh and I hugged each other, it seemed incredible that God loved us so much that Hed arranged for us to meet at the ends of the earth. Nouh and I had gifts for each other that no one else could give.

I gave him the assurance that the story which had given him courage was true. He, in turn, gave me the assurance that God had used Dad's death for good.

Dad, by dying, had helped give Nouh a faith worth dying for. And Nouh, in return, had helped give Dad's faith back to me.

[nChrist]

Dad, by dying, had helped give Nouh a faith worth dying for. And Nouh, in return, had helped give Dad's faith back to me.

AMEN! - What a beautiful story. It's all about God's Love and God's Promises.

[HisDaughter]

I judged you today; you didn't fit my image of how you should act.
I wasted a whole day thinking you should have done it this way.
I couldn't talk to my Father because my mind was completely absorbed in what
I wanted you to be like.

I didn't have the joy my Father promises.
I just couldn't think about that now.
You were in the wrong.
I picked up the word trying to prove I was right, then I saw it.

Judge and you shall be judged, condemn and you shall be condemned.
On the outer side I had written --Release---
I started wondering what could this mean, Release?

I thought and I thought then it came to me.
When I judge you I put myself in prison,
When I condemn you I lock myself up.
I don't talk to Jesus; I don't intercede for hurting people,
I don't smile. I put myself in an emotional bondage.

So for today I will release you and me.
We are both to live our lives imitating our Father.
Today I didn't, please forgive me.
I love you your way,
and my way,
But especially
His Way.

[HisDaughter]

Who wakes me up in the morning,
So I can start to play?
My mother does !
But who wakes up the day?

Who turns the light on in my room
so I can have some fun?
My father does!
Who turns on the sun?

Who starts the water in my bath
and closes up the drain?
My mother does!
but who turns on the rain?

Who fixes things when they don't work
when stuff gets cracked or curled?
My father does!
But who repairs the world?

Who hangs my clothes for me to see
right there before my eyes
my mother does!
But who hangs the skies?

Who wakes the day
Turns on the sun?

Make sure the bath
for the world is begun?

Who fixes the world
when it needs repaired?

Who hangs the skies
away up there?

God does!

Have you thanked your loving mother
for getting you up to play?
Have you thanked your father
for working things out okay?
And have you thanked your heavenly father
for waking up the day?

[HisDaughter]

Mission Impossible

Charles was no stranger to prison life. This was the third time he had been incarcerated in less than 2 years. The police knew him well.

Sharing a cell with drug users, thieves, rapists, and murderers, Charles was considered, according to Nepalese law, the worst of criminals. He had been arrested again and again for converting Buddhists and Hindus to Christianity. Anyone who was caught baptizing a new believer would be sentenced to death.

On the king's birthday, Charles was released from prison and he returned to his small house nestled in the foothills of the Himalayan Mountains. His American friend Rick arrived as planned. They sat over a rickety table enjoying their bowls of rice with steamy vegetables, and gave thanks to the Lord for Charles' deliverance once more from jail. Then they discussed their next mission to bring the light of the gospel to the darkness of souls.

At daybreak, the young men drove to the end of the existing road. Then, by foot, they walked to the path's end. They walked through rice fields and pulled themselves up the steep sides of the hilltops, then dipped back down into lush green valleys. The following day they walked through three ice cold rivers, holding their knapsacks above their heads.

Before them lay the village. Rick and Charles preached, ministered to the needs of the people, and baptized the new converts. At the end of the few days, they went deeper into the country.

"This is going to be the hardest village," Charles explained. "Its stronghold here is a witch doctor the people revere and fear."

Before beginning any work, the men prayed and fasted in the humble home of one of the few Christians who lived in that part of the country. On the third day, Rajen the witch doctor called for them. Speaking through Charles as an interpreter, he told them, "I know you have come to preach and to convert my people. Please eat this wonderful food I have prepared for you." Not wanting to offend him, Charles and Rick ate until their bellies were full. Rajen sat watching them for a long time before speaking again.

"You may tell my people about your God but you must not convert them to Christianity," he warned.

"What if they want to become Christians?" Rick asked.

"You may tell them about your God and how He has worked in your life, but nothing else."

That night all the village people gathered around the smoky fires and listened to the two young men speak. They fascinated with the Nepalese man and with how fair the young white American looked. Rick and Charles spoke for a long time about a Baby that was born in a far-off country, and how this Baby grew up and performed miracles. The village people thought this Jesus must have been a good man.

The next day the witch doctor called for them again. Once more a meal was spread out before them and Rajen pointed to it. The two young ministers sat cross-legged on mats and ate until they were full. Rajen watched them carefully.

"You may tell them more about your God tonight. If anyone wants to become a Christian it is all right. No harm will come to them in this village."

Rick and Charles rejoiced. Through prayer they had battled many strongholds; now they prayed for a harvest of souls in this village. That evening they continued telling about Jesus. They explained that He was the Son of God and that because of Him no more blood sacrifices were necessary, because His blood atoned for all our sins.

When Rick and Charles had finished sharing the gospel, people came forward, forsaking their gods for the one true God. Rick noticed Rajen watching from the shadows, beyond the light of the fires. Charles and Rick prayed through the night for God to soften the witch doctor's heart.

On the third day they were summoned again to Rajen. They sat and ate, and again the witch doctor touched nothing. But he was quieter and seemed withdrawn. When they finished eating, Rajen in a raspy voice that shook said, "You may do whatever you would like to do."

Once outside, Rick hollered, "Yahoo!" and clicked his heels together as Charles laughed at him. They knew that God had answered and removed the enemy's stronghold from around the village. That night after Charles and Rick preached, nearly every one in the village came forward to accept Jesus into their hearts.

The next day Charles and Rick spent hours baptizing the new converts in the river. "This will be known from now on as a Christian village and other preachers will follow us to do more work here," Charles explained to Rick.

Before them in the water stood Rajen. His cockiness was gone and his eyes were dark and empty. "I want your God," he proclaimed.

Rick and Charles prayed with Rajen and he became a new creation in Jesus Christ. Then they baptized him in the cold mountain river.

"When you are finished here," he said, "come to see me."

This time there was no food spread before them. "For the past 3 days you have eaten my food," Rajen began. "With my own eyes I watched you put it into your mouths."

From a large box Rajen pulled a huge dead rat. "I put poison in your food. See, it killed this rat. But it does not kill you. It did not even make you sick. Your God is much more powerful than my magic. And your God loves you and protects you. I want this God and this love inside my heart."

Rick and Charles began to rejoice and thank God for this miracle.

"But before I decided I wanted to know your Jesus, I sent a man from the village to get the Nepalese police. The message said you were converting and baptizing. You must flee for your lives. I am truly sorry for this. But I did not realize at the time that your God was the one true God." Rajen wept.

In an hour Charles and Rick had packed their belongings and were ready for the trip down the mountainside and said their good-byes to the people. As they walked through the clearing, Rajen stood with a small knapsack, ready to accompany them. "I want to come," he told them, "I want to learn more about Jesus."

The three Christian brothers walked in single file along the dusty path, moving quickly, saying little. They crossed two icy rivers and didn't stop to change or even to dry off. Charles would be killed this time if he were caught, and Rick would be jailed and then expelled from the country.

The road widened, but down the mountain they saw troops walking steadily toward them. There was no place to run, nowhere to hide. They began to pray. Suddenly a fog grew around the side of the mountain and covered them and the soldiers. Charles, Rick and Rajen walked with their shoulders scraping the side of the mountain as the Nepalese soldiers passed within inches on the other side of them, never seeing them through the heavy fog.

This was an impossible mission from beginning to end. But Jesus is a Master of the impossible. All things are possible with Him. Since that time, Charles and his family have had to leave Nepal. But their work has not diminished; instead it has grown. A Bible school has been established in India and from there young ministers go into Nepal to continue the work Charles started. Where there was once only a handful of Christian ministers there are now dozens walking through the mountains, preaching and baptizing believers in the cold rivers. Rajen is one of these ministers.