Giving Your Everything

A rich multi-millionaire walks into a church one day, sits down and says to the man beside him, "12 years ago, I was sitting on this same seat with only a dollar left in my pocket, and I put everything I had into the offering bag. When I walked out the church that day, I met a man who signed me a million-dollar business deal, which had made me the successful person I am today."

The second man replied, "That's a great story. But would you put everything you have today into that same offering bag?"

Would YOU?

The Bridge

I discovered this short movie quite awhile back and have already shared this movie with quite a few people. The title of the movie in Polish, Most, translated to English would mean The Bridge.

This movie is adapted from a true story about a man named John Griffith, who was a railroad bridgemaster. Although the characters in the movie do not directly portray the actual story about this person, it is adapted from the famous story which was inspired by this man's life.

In the 1930’s John worked as the controller of a huge railroad bridge across the Mississippi River. Every day at certain scheduled times the huge bridge was raised so that barges and other ships might make their way down the river. And according to a schedule, John would lower the bridge so that the freight and passenger trains could rush across.

In the summer of 1937, John Griffith took his then eight-year-old son with him to work for the first time. The boy was excited to watch the big railroad bridge and the trains & boats, and also to see the control house with all kinds of levers over which his daddy had absolute control.

His father took him to an observation deck so that he could watch the boats and trains go by. At noon John put the bridge up to let some ships go by since there would not be a train coming for awhile. He made his way to the observation deck where the two of them had lunch.

Just as John was telling a long story about the trains & boats, he was startled by the shrieking of a train whistle in the distance. He quickly looked at his watch and noticed that it was 1:07.

In the midst of his story telling he had forgotten that the passenger train - the express for Memphis with 400 passengers on board - would soon be roaring across that bridge.

Without panic but very quickly he leaped from the observation deck and ran back to the control tower. He placed his hand upon the massive iron controls and started to close the bridge. But before pulling the lever, he glanced down beneath the bridge to see if there were any ships beneath it.

There a sight caught his eye that made nearly made his heart stop.

His son had slipped from the observation deck and had fallen into the huge gears that operate the bridge. Though the boy was still alive and conscious, his left leg was caught in the cogs of the main gears! John knew that if he pulled that lever his son would be crushed.

His eyes filled with tears of panic, and his head was spinning. What he could do was to take a rope, rush to the observation tower, tie it and lower himself into the gear box, free his son, bring him back up to the observation deck, and make his way quickly back to the control tower to lower the bridge.

But no sooner had he thought it, than he knew there was no way he could do it in time for the train.

Again, closer than ever, the train whistle sounded. He could hear the wheels clicking over the tracks and the puffing of the engine.

But that was his son!

Yet there were 400 passengers on that train which was roaring toward the bridge. But John Griffith was a father and that was his boy!

He knew what he had to do so he buried his head in his left arm and pulled the master lever.

That massive bridge lowered into place just as the Memphis Express roared across the Mississippi.

When he lifted his head with his face smeared with tears, he looked into the passing windows of the train.

There were businessmen casually reading their afternoon papers, uniformed conductors looking at their large vest-pocket watches, well-dressed ladies in the dining car sipping coffee, and children pushing long spoons into the dishes of ice cream.

No one looked at the control house and no one looked at the great gear box.

With wrenching agony, John Griffith cried out at the train, "I sacrificed my son for you! Don't you care?" But nobody heard. They never even looked up from their newspapers, watches, coffee and ice cream.

In the same way, the Son of God has been sacrificed so that we might have eternal life.

Will we look up from our newspapers, watches, coffee and ice cream?

Taken from http://www.goarch.org/

Here's a fan-made video adapted from the original movie:

Question: If A Christian Has A Bad Relationship With God, Is He Still A Christian?

We often hear Christians say: "Christianity is not a religion; it's a relationship."

But if a Christian has a bad relationship with God (i.e. they don't communicate, frequently disagree, and he deliberately goes against Him), can he still call himself a Christian?


Do share with me your thoughts on this by leaving me a comment here. I have thoughts of my own too, but I'd like to hear yours before I tell you mine.

The Truest Form Of Worship

Today, I had the great privilege to witness with my own eyes, a woman who knew what true worship means. To her, it was not about the music; it was not about the singing and clapping; it was not about her being able to sing better than her neighbors beside her; it was not about how well the worship leader could sing or lead the congregation; it was about her relationship with her God – her Daddy.

You could see the sparkle in her eyes; the purest smile on her face. You could see her singing from the bottom of her heart, though she couldn’t. Yes, she literally couldn’t. She is an elderly lady who previously had a stroke which left her paralyzed on her right side, from top to bottom, with the left side of the body with very limited function and little strength. She moves around with a wheelchair, with the help of an assistant. Before the elevator in our church was completed, she climbed up three flights of stairs, every Sunday, to the main hall of the church, situated in the first floor of the building (with the help of her son– now moved to New Zealand – and an assistant). The words she uttered amounted to unintelligible groans and noises, and one had to listen really closely to understand what she was trying to say. In spite of all these difficulties, she worships.

Usually, because of her disability, she would sit down at her usual spot at the second row from the front (she gets off her wheelchair to sit on the pew), occasionally lifting her (left) hand in worship for a few seconds before putting it down due to the lack of strength. And because of her inability to support herself due to her paralyzed condition, she would occasionally slouch to the right side, almost falling, before her assistant or someone else would come to her rescue by holding her and securing her back in her original position. Occasionally, she would also stand up (with much help from her assistant, of course) to worship, but only for less than a minute before she sits down again from the lack of strength.

As you can see, I’ve been observing her for quite awhile now, but what I saw today moved me to tears. The presence of God was really strong as we were worshiping today, and I saw her lifting up her hands again as how she usually does. She then asked her assistant to help her stand up to worship. After standing for a little while, her strength waned and her assistant helped her back to her sitting position. But instead of sitting down, she tried to pull herself back up to her standing position. And with one hand held firmly to the pew in front, together with the support of her assistant, she stood for the longest time I could remember her doing so. And as she was worshipping, I saw the purest smile I’ve ever seen, etched on her face. And after some time standing up, she let go of the pew she was holding on to and lifted her hands up high while standing.

Seeing this, I heard from the Lord, “This is the truest form of worship I desire.”

And I realized the true significance of her worship. Worship that truly is a sacrifice of praise to God; worship denied of self and given wholly to God; worship that is beyond her physical conditions and circumstances; when she had a totally legitimate reason to hold back her expressions of worship, she worshiped God with all her strength – literally.

Though I do not know her personally, and she does not know me, I hope to be able to get a picture with her someday. When I do, I would be sure to post it up here for you to see. My prayer is that I would be able to offer that sort of worship that my Savior deserves, and for you to be able to discover the truest form of worship as I have discovered through her.

It brings me great joy to see a true worshiper offering her all to a God who gave her His all, and it puts a smile on my face, knowing that she will have a new and glorified body in heaven in which she can praise God with. I sincerely look forward to the day that I will see her do so in the presence of the King of kings.

My Take On Today's Events

A few weeks ago, I noticed a friend's Facebook status update that read, "Every bit of hardship we face is yet another opportunity for a great testimony for God." (paraphrased)


I think you all would agree with me that it is a very nice quote. Very inspiring.


I would like to think that this is true in my life, and remind myself at times of hardship about this. I read books and hear great sermons about how our suffering becoming an amplifier of God's message in our lives. And I try to live up that principle in my life.


Something happened that got me thinking today; something pretty major (If you have my Facebook, you would probably have seen me spamming your Facebook home page). We prayed hard about it. I prayed hard about it. And we believed with all our hearts that a great testimony would come out of this situation.

Then I realised.

Do I have an expectation about the type of testimony that will come out from this situation? Yes I did. I realised that all this while I've been limiting God's hand with my expectations. And I believe some of you can identify with me on this; We believe with all our hearts that the same God who worked miralcles through Moses, Elijah, and Jesus, is able to work a miracle in this situation. We believe that the same God who was good to the guy who shared his awesome testimony last sunday would be good to us in our current situation. But we get disappointed and ask, "WHY?" when things don't go our way.

We should just let God be God, even when we do not understand it. Whether things happen or not, it still doesn't change the fact that God is still God, and we should let God write His testimony in us, instead of us writing the testimony on God's behalf.

Most of us, myself included, overlook the fact that WE should the testimony, instead of looking for the testimony in the situation. Situational testimonies only come to mind in seasons of hardship. What about good times? Where is the 'amplifier'? Where is the 'megaphone'?

But when we learn to glorify God with the testimony our lives, we don't even have to share our testimonies to people. The people who have seen God in us will share the testimonies on our behalf. And THAT is what a solid testimony is.

Personally I think that I don't really have a problem praising God in bad times. And I definitely don't have problems praising God in good times. But I realised that it is more than that.

"So what's the problem?"

I realised that it's NOT about praising God in good times; It's NOT about praising God in bad times; It's NOT even about praising God all the time - NOT when we do it out of our own strength; NOT when we do it out of our knowledge of God; NOT even when we do it out of our past experiences of God's goodness.

It's when we praise God for who He is.

Because He is God; because He deserves it. And not because we have to, or we want to, but because we can't help it.

"Father, my situations everyday be an empty page to write your testimony on;

But more importantly, let my life be a book with empty pages for you to write your story."