Dear all - get this book if you can. If we do not shatter our self-reliance we will not learned reliance in God's son. The greatest falling of our day is self-reliance. It has seeped into all aspects of a Christian's life. We trust God with that we have - what a shame! We trust God for what we want - well that is a shame too! Why don't we trust God for who he is! I fear many anymore don't even understand what this means.Below is a brief from the book ....
"One night I went out for a long, solitary walk. On several occasions students had warned me not to 'go into Patrick.' Patrick was the slum sitting at the bottom of our hill. It was, they said, the home of addicts, drunks, thieves, even murderers, and walking its streets was unsafe. And yet this area drew me now as if it had something to say. All around me were the dirty gray streets of Patrick. Litter blew across the cobblestones. The September air was already raw. Before I had gone five blocks I was accosted two times by beggars. I gave them all the money I had in my pockets and watched as they moved without pretense toward the nearest pub. I knew that these drifters, begging in the streets of the Glasgow slums, would receive a better income than the missionaries-in-training at the top of the hill.
I could not understand why this bothered me so. Was I greedy? I didn't think so. We had always been poor in my family, and I had never worried about it. What was it then? And suddenly, walking back up the hill toward the school, I had my answer. The question was not one of money at all. What I was worried about was a relationship.
At the chocolate factory I trusted Mr. Ringers to pay me in full and on time. Surely I said to myself, if an ordinary factory worker could be financially secure, so could one of God's workers. I turned through the gate of the school. Above me was the reminder 'Have Faith In God.' That was it! It wasn't that I needed the security of a certain amount of money, it was that I needed the security of a relationship.
I walked up the crunchy pebblewalk feeling more and more certain that I was on the verge of something exciting. The school was asleep and quiet. I tiptoed upstairs and sat by the bedroom window looking out over Glasgow.
If I were going to give my life as a servant of the King, I had to know that King. What was He like? In what WAY could I trust Him? In the same way I trusted a set of impersonal laws? Or could I trust Him as a living leader, as a very present commander in battle? The question was central. Because if He were a King in name only, I would rather go back to the chocolate factory. I would remain a Christian, but I would know that my religion was only a set of principles, excellent to be followed, but hardly demanding devotion.
Suppose on the other hand that I were to discover God to be a Person, in the sense that He communicated and cared and loved and led. That was something quite different. That was the kind of King I would follow into any battle. And somehow, sitting there in the moonlight that September night in Glasgow, I knew that my probing into God's nature was gong to begin with this issue of money.
That night I knelt in front of the window and made a covenant with Him. 'Lord,' I said, 'I need to know if I can trust You in practical things. I thank You for letting me earn the fees for the first semester. I ask You now to supply the rest of them. If I have to be so much as a day late in paying, I shall know that I am supposed to go back to the chocolate factory.' It was a childish prayer, petulant and demanding. But then I was still a child in the Christian life.
The remarkable thing is that God honored my prayer. But not without first testing me in some rather amusing ways." The story continues in a fascinating exploration of faith in God: "The first semester sped by. Mornings we spent in the classrooms studying systematic theology, homiletics, world religions, linguistics--the type of courses taught in any seminary. In the afternoon we worked at practical skills: bricklaying, plumbing, carpentry, first aid, tropical hygiene, motor repair. For several weeks all of us, girls as well as boys, worked at the Ford factory in London, learning how to take a car apart and put it back together. In addition to those standard trades, we were taught to build huts out of palm fronds and how to make mud jars that would hold water. And meanwhile we took turns in the kitchen and the laundry and the garden. No one was exempt. One of the students was a doctor, a German woman, and I used to watch her scouring garbage pails as though she were preparing a room for surgery. The weeks passed so fast that soon it came time for me to head out on the first of several training trips in evangelism. 'You're going to like this, Andy,' said Mr. Dinnen. 'It's an exercise in trust.
The rules are simple. Each student on your team is given a one-pound banknote. With that you go on a missionary tour through Scotland. You're expected to pay your own transportation, your own lodging, your food, any advertising you want to do, the renting of halls, providing refreshments--' 'All on a one-pound note?' 'Worse than that. When you get back to school after four weeks, you're expected to pay back the pound!' I laughed. 'Sounds like we'll be passing the hat all the time.' 'Oh, you're not allowed to take up collections! Never. You're not to mention money at your meetings. All of your needs have got to be provided without any manipulation on your part--or the experiment is a failure.'
I was a member of a team of five boys. Later when I tried to reconstruct where our funds came from during those four weeks, it was hard to. It seemed that what we needed was always just there. Sometimes a letter would arrive from one of the boys' parents with a little money. Sometimes we would get a check in the mail from a church we had visited days or weeks earlier. The notes that came with those gifts were always interesting. 'I know you don't need money or you would have mentioned it,' someone would write. 'But God just wouldn't let me get to sleep tonight until I had put this in an envelope for you.' Contributions frequently came in the form of produce.
In one little town in the highlands of Scotland we were given six hundred eggs. We had eggs for breakfast, eggs for lunch, eggs as hors d'oeuvres before a dinner of eggs with an egg-white meringue dessert. It was weeks before we could look a chicken in the eye. But money or produce, we struck fast to two rules: we never mentioned a need aloud, and we gave away a tithe of whatever came to us as soon as we got it--within twenty-four hours if possible.
Another team that set out from school at the same time we did, was not so strict about tithing. They set aside their ten percent all right, but they didn't give it away immediately, 'in case we run into an emergency.' Of course they had emergencies! So did we, every day. But they ended their month owing money to hotels, lecture halls, and markets all over Scotland, while we came back to school almost ten pounds ahead. Fast as we could give money away, God was always swifter, and we ended with money to send to the WEC work overseas.
There were times before the end of the tour, however, when it looked as though the experiment were failing. One weekend we were holding meetings in Edinburgh. We had attracted a large group of young people the first day and were casting about for a way to get them to come back the next. Suddenly, without consulting anyone, one of the team members stood up and made an announcement. 'Before the meeting tomorrow evening,' he said, 'we'd like you all to have tea with us here. Four o' clock. How many think they can make it?' A couple dozen hands went up, and we were committed.
At first, instead of being delighted, the rest of us were horrified. All of us knew that we had no tea, no cake, no bread and butter, and exactly five cups. Nor did we have money to buy these things: our last penny had gone to rent the hall. This was going to be a real test of God's care. And for a while it looked as though He was going to provide everything through the young people themselves. After the meeting several of them came forward and said they would like to help. One offered milk; another, half a pound of tea; another, sugar. One girl even offered to bring dishes. Our tea was rapidly taking shape. But there was one thing still missing--the cake. Without cake, these Scottish boys and girls wouldn't consider tea tea. So that night in our evening prayer time, we put the matter before God. 'Lord, we've got ourselves into a spot.
From somewhere we've got to get a cake. Will You help us?' That night as we rolled up in our blankets on the floor of the hall, we played guessing games: How was God going to give us that cake? Among the five of us, we guessed everything imaginable--or so we thought. Morning arrived. We half expected a heavenly messenger to come to our door bearing a cake. But no one came. The morning mail arrived. We ripped open the two letters, hoping for money. There was none. A woman from a nearby church came by to see if she could help. 'Cake,' was on the tip of all our tongues, but we swallowed the word and shook our heads. 'Everything,' we assured her, 'is in God's hands.' The tea had been announced for four o' clock in the afternoon. At three the tables were set, but still we had no cake. Three-thirty came. We put the water to boil. Three-forty-five. And then the doorbell rang. All of us together ran to the big front entrance, and there was the postman.
In his hand was a large box. 'Hello, lads,' said the postman. 'Got something for you that feels like a food package. ' He handed the box to one of the boys. 'The delivery day is over, actually,' he said, 'but I hate to leave a perishable package overnight.' We thanked him profusely, and the minute he closed the door the boy solemnly handed me the box. 'It's for you, Andrew. From a Mrs. William Hopkins in London.' I took the package and carefully unwrapped it. Off came the twine. Off came the brown outside paper. Inside, there was no note--only a large white box. Deep in my soul I knew that I could afford the drama of lifting the lid slowly. As I did, there, in perfect condition, to be admired by five sets of wondering eyes, was an enormous, glistening, moist, chocolate cake."
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