Catacombs

I know thy works, and where thou dwellest, even where Satan's seat is: and thou holdest fast my name, and hast not denied my faith, even in those days wherein Antipas was my faithful martyr, who was slain among you, where Satan dwelleth.

Revelation 2:13

A Christian without trials would be like a mill without wind or water. What place should we have for patience, meekness, readiness to forgive, if we had nothing to try us? -John Newton


The catacombs underneath Rome is where the first Christians buried their dead and held their worship services. It was a network of tunnels that hid them in 1AD-5AD from the Roman authorities. The tunnels are filled with early Christian symbols of lives persecuted for what they believed and were willing to die for. Among the dead martyrs bodies are many stories. Some untold, only known by God, others we have the honor of knowing. Here is one such story.


In the catacombs, one day, this Christian who had been sobbing in great sorrow for the loss of his wife went underground to the catacombs. In search of comfort for his aching heart. He walked down the descending stairs with each step heavy. Stopping at the bottom of the stairs he wrote on the wall. He left a message for his beloved wife. Wishing her now a joyful life.


"Sofronia vivas cum tuis"(Oh, Sophronia, may you live with your dear ones).


Traveling on past the stairs, he pauses for a moment. He thinks of her and her new life with our Lord. This time with a shaking hand he scribbles her name. With tears in his eyes he writes his message:


"Sofronia, vivas in Domino" (Oh, Sophronia, may you live in the Lord).


With each step his faith grows stronger that he will see her again. His heart beats faster as he pauses once again. This time in a cubicle on the side of an arcosolium. His hand more steadier, he writes his note:


"Sofronia dulcis, semper vives in Deo" (O sweet Sophronia, you will live forever in God).


At last, he has found him a place to rest. Crying so bitterly along the way, his eyes have become reddened. He doesn't cry for her. But, for himself does he weep. Awaiting for the glorious day, when he shall join her. Hope now springs up in him like a gushing fountain. Love overflows from his heart and he writes now with blessed assurance of the resurrection promised by our Savior:



"Sofronia, vives..." (Yes, Sophronia, you will live).


It is a wonderful expression of human love transcended from this world to the next life. The love they shared for each other and for Christ would continue on. It's a love story of believers. Their assurance that they will see each other again. And his devotion to her and Jesus is truly moving. He acknowledges where both his true loves lie. And he knows and believes that the Lamb has made a way for him to see her once again.


By Lance Gargus

Am I A Fireman Yet?

He that saith he abideth in him ought himself also so to walk, even as he walked.

1 John 2:6

In Phoenix , Arizona , a 26-year-old mother stared down at her 6 year old son, who was dying of terminal leukemia. Although her heart was filled with sadness, she also had a strong feeling of determination. Like any parent, she wanted her son to grow up & fulfill all his dreams. Now that was no longer possible. The leukemia would see to that. But she still wanted her son's dream to come true. She took her son' s hand and asked,Billy, did you ever think about what you wanted to be once you grew up?Did you ever dream and wish what you would do with your life? Mommy, 'I always wanted to be a fireman when I grew up. Mom smiled back and said, 'Let's see if we can make your wish come true. Later that day she went to her local fire Department in Phoenix , Arizona , where she met Fire man Bob, who had a heart as big as Phoenix . She explained her son's final wish and Asked if it might be possible to give her 6 year-old son a ride around the block on a fire engine. Fireman Bob said, 'Look, we can do better than that. If you'll have your son ready at seven o'clock Wednesday morning, we'll make him an honorary Fireman for the whole day. He can come down to the fire station, eat with us, go out on all the fire calls, the whole nine yards! And if you'll give us his sizes, we'll get a real fire uniform for him, with a real fire hat - not a toy -- one-with the emblem of the Phoenix Fire Department on it, a yellow slicker like we wear and rubber boots. 'They're all manufactured right here in Phoenix so we can get them fast.' Three days later Fireman Bob picked up Billy,dressed him in his uniform and escorted him from his hospital bed to the waiting hook and ladder truck. Billy got to sit on the back of the truck and help steer it back to the fire station. He was in heaven. There were three fire calls in Phoenix that day and Billy got to go out on all three calls. He rode in the different fire engines, the Paramedic's' van, and even the fire chief's car.He was also videotaped for the local news program. Having his dream come true, with all the love and attention that was lavished upon him, so deeply touched Billy, that he lived three months longer than any doctor thought possible. One night all of his vital signs began to dr op dramatically and the head nurse, who believed in the hospice concept - that no one should die alone, began to call the family members to the hospital. Then she remembered the day Billy had spent as a Fireman, so she called the Fire Chief and asked if it would be possible to send a fireman in uniform to the hospital to be with Billy as he made his transition.The chief replied, 'We can do better than that. We'll be there in five minutes. Will you please do me a favor? When you hear the sirens screaming and see the lights flashing, will you announce over the PA system that there is not a fire?' 'It's the department coming to see one of its finest members one more time. And will you open the window to his room?' About five minutes later a hook and ladder truck arrived at the hospital and extended its ladder up to Billy's third floor open window--------16 fire-fighters climbed up the ladder into Billy's room. With his mother's permission, they hugged him and held him and told him how much they LOVED him.

Author Unknown

Orchard Of Heaven

Thy plants are an orchard of pomegranates, with pleasant fruits; camphire, with spikenard,
Song of Solomon 4:1

My younger son, Lance, and I walk out to the back of the house to the orchard one Sunday afternoon.

As we walk, so many memories come back to me. We planted apple, pear, and peach trees in the orchard.

More husband enjoyed walking out there everyday, and sometimes the boys walked with us.

He was a big teaser. He always teased the boys about how the trees were growing. "We'll soon have fruit on them," he picked. Well, being impatient little boys, they checked everyday. After checking everyday, they realized the trees would have to get along bigger before they bore fruit. So they learned that trees have to be taken care, and that it takes time, quite a bit of time, especially, to a 9 and 11 year old to mature. In time, the trees began to bear fruit.

My husband enjoyed going to the orchard to reflect and pray. He also enjoyed sharing his fruit with others. One tree in particular he called a Myrtle tree. He called it that after my mother's love for June apples. My mother was always informed first when the tree was ready for picking. He would gather her up a basket so she could make her famous apple preserves, right behind her famous pear preserves.

My father loved to eat the bounty my husband brought as gifts. Always this was a special time for my family to share in a harvest.

But as time went on I lost my mother, then father, and then my husband. Though they are gone, the orchard trees they loved still stand, and every season they bear fruit. I like to walk the old orchard paths and reminiscence. Walking the old paths gives me the assurance of where they are now. My boys, daughter in law, and grandchildren and I will walk with them again, on a celestial path, beside the crystal sea that feeds the orchard of heaven.

by

Louise Gargus

Wet Pants

Ointment and perfume rejoice the heart: so doth the sweetness of a man's friend ..

Proverbs 27:9

Come with me to a third grade classroom..... There is a nine-year-old kid sitting at his desk and all of a sudden, there is a puddle between his feet and the front of his pants are wet. He thinks his heart is going to stop because he cannot possibly imagine how this has happened. It's never happened before, and he knows that when the boys find out he will never hear the end of it. When the girls find out, they'll never speak to him again as long as he lives. The boy believes his heart is going to stop; he puts his head down and prays this prayer, 'Dear God, this is an emergency! I need help now! Five minutes from now I'm dead meat.' He looks up from his prayer and here comes the teacher with a look in her eyes that says he has been discovered. As the teacher is walking toward him, a classmate named Susie is carrying a goldfish bowl that is filled with water. Susie trips in front of the teacher and inexplicably dumps the bowl of water in the boy's lap. The boy pretends to be angry, but all the while is saying to himself, 'Thank you, Lord! Thank you, Lord!' Now all of a sudden, instead of being the object of ridicule, the boy is the object of sympathy. The teacher rushes him downstairs and gives him gym shorts to put on while his pants dry out. All the other children are on their hands and knees cleaning up around his desk. The sympathy is wonderful. But as life would have it, the ridicule that should have been his has been transferred to someone else - Susie. She tries to help, but they tell her to get out. You've done enough, you klutz!' Finally, at the end of the day, as they are waiting for the bus, the boy walks over to Susie and whispers, 'You did that on purpose, didn't you?' Susie whispers back, 'I wet my pants once too.'