by helmut
“I was shocked,” said Calvin Lane, though as he spoke I sensed his shock had turned to bitterness. “My uncle was a deacon in the church, but the first time I accompanied him to the company convention, he led the way in painting the town.”
In the course of five years, Calvin had come to wonder whether a commitment to the Lord actually meant anything. The inconsistencies he observed made him wonder. (Read More)
by helmut
A woman in great distress, seeking peace for her soul, told me her story. When she was twelve years old, her mother left her father for another man. Her father was an irresponsible drunkard.
This twelve-year-old child, the oldest of six children, was faced with seeing the family broken up or assuming the responsibility of mother to her siblings. She assumed the responsibility and successfully managed to get through high school as well as take care of the family. Neighbors, teachers, church people, and the community helped. She kept the house and the children clean and neat, got everyone off to school, and made sure they went to church. Every Sunday the six of them marched down the aisle of the church, occupying the same pew. She received the admiration and affirmation of many for the fine, sacrificial job she did. (Read More)
by helmut
Annebel was pathetic, depressed, on the edge of tears, overwrought. She had seen several psychologists, a psychiatrist, several pastors, and a famous evangelist. No one could help. Her condition was the result of a great tragedy, which was told to me by a friend who spoke for Annebel.
About six months before, Annebel’s family was on their way to a Saturday picnic. They had forgotten the picnic basket. She stayed at the park to reserve the picnic table while her husband and two children returned home for the basket. No one knows what happened. There were no witnesses. A train struck their car at a railroad crossing and all three were killed. (Read More)
by helmut
Amy was a widow–the consequence of a motorcycle accident. Her husband was killed instantly. It happened two years earlier, and she continued to grieve over the loss of her husband. He was fun-loving and outgoing. She missed his friendly, cheerful presence. She always looked forward to his coming home. They were best friends. There were no children. She now lives alone in the house they were buying. She works in the church office and loves her job. When the church doors are open, she is always there. But going home is hard and lonely. Some friends have suggested that she move out of the house and live somewhere else. Her house holds too many memories. (Read More)
by helmut
Perry Black was the production expediter for a printing firm, a bachelor in his 30s, and lonely. He hurried to do what was required of him if asked by someone he liked; if asked by someone else, his feet seemingly were of lead. He gave the impression that he was always available and willing to do anything at all to be helpful, but admitted it was just an impression. He actually hated to be disturbed. (Read More)
by helmut
Let me share this letter from a woman to her brother that she recently shared with me:
Dear Bill:
I don’t have to remind you of the problem Mom always was. How well you knew her self-pity, sarcasm, jealousy, suspicion, injustice, self-righteousness, and nagging that ended only in long periods of sulky silence. You rebelled openly, but my rebellion was silent. I buried the bitterness and resentment, but I buried them in the wrong place. I hid them in my heart and they have come back to torment me. Even after she died, I blamed Mom for making me the wretched person I was. (Read More)