The sun was setting gently across the broad Pacific. In its breathtaking beauty and confident serenity, it was a majestic and powerful sight.

It was, perhaps, this peaceful sunset, together with the relentless violence and destructive contagion of war, that led the great man to take pen in hand on this evening. Just harrowing days earlier, he and his family were crossing turbulent and dangerous waters in a small PT boat, surrounded by the enemy. He had found solace and protection on this island nation.

They gathered in the small boarding house on Market Street. They sat down in high-backed wooden chairs around a simple wooden table. There was no air-conditioning to sooth the summer heat. In the descending rays of the late afternoon, a candle was their light. To them was given the awesome responsibility to craft a declaration; the “power to begin the world over again.”

Gametime.

It is the 9th inning, and the score is in our favor. Everyone expects a huge defeat is going to be delivered to the other team - who for decades seemed to have won. For years with fervent fight, we have chipped away at their successes and are about to win. Cheers will be heard across the nation!

Here is the warning though - The season is not over, your team needs YOU! 

At 78 with 50 years of ministry and almost 60 years of marriage, I could reminisce about the past seasons of my life and talk about retirement, but scripture exhorts us to “forget the past and reach forward to those things which are ahead; pressing toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus”. (Philippians 3:13-14)

I am anticipating with great joy the adventure that awaits me in this next season of my life, because I am daring to go farther with God rather than just take retirement.

He could have had anything. All he had to do was ask. It would be his.

Few people have ever had such an opportunity. No conditions. No expectations. No restraints.

“What do you want? Ask, and I will give it to you!”

It was a breath-taking generosity.

Time Management is crucial in everyday life. Family, work, and friends all demand our time.

How many of you have been so busy that you prayed for a 25th hour in the day?

How many of you want a stronger relationship with God but you just can’t find the time? You are just too busy at this moment, maybe later.

It happened from time to time.

Someone in the audience would ask what he thought was a trick question.

This was supposed to be some kind of test.

The trap nearly always caught the trapper.

It was a trail of tears. Too bitter and heartbreaking for words.

Three women—one older, two younger—united by the deaths of their husbands, were traveling to a new home, and a new beginning.

It hadn’t been easy, nor would it be easy now.

He was born premature.

His mother wrapped him in warm wool blankets. It was shortly before Christmas.

The infant neither cried nor opened his eyes until his original due date arrived when, as if on cue, he suddenly did both.

Sometimes I don’t get it. I just don’t.

It reminds me of what Winston Churchill said of Russia: “A riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma.”

My definitions don’t fit. My reasoning is defied; my hopes and expectations unrealized, and my assumptions overturned.

It makes no sense.

How odd of God.

A single word of encouragement can do more to bring change and improvement, and renewed joy and determination, than all the carping criticism ever uttered by those who sit safely in the stands of life, far from the arena.

He was powerful. He was famous. He was celebrated. He was a fearless leader of men.

He was sick.

General Naaman was a leper. The dreaded skin disease was serious, painful and fatal. Thousands of years ago, there was no cure for leprosy. We learn of Naaman in the fifth chapter of II Kings, in the Old Testament of the Bible.

They were out to have a good time. It was a day trip with family and friends. A chance to create some memories.

Three young people from California—all in their twenties—were hiking in Yosemite National Park. They climbed up the steep and slippery Mist Trail until they reached Vernal Fall. It is one of Yosemite’s most popular and spectacular waterfalls.

It was a crystal clear, beautiful day.

There was a metal guardrail. It had been placed there by park authorities to keep visitors away from the swift-moving water of the Merced River. Just 25 feet from the precipice of the fall, the young people crossed over the guardrail and entered the water.

He was labeled, pitied, dismissed, ignored and ostracized. Crippled was the word—and the stigma. “Disabled” and “challenged” hadn’t been invented. He was a young man with a difficult name and a difficult life.

Mephibosheth. He was royalty—once upon a time.

He’s short of stature, slight of build. He’s youthful, informal, and seems a bit like the comedian he once was. He looks more like the guy standing next to you at the pizza place on a Friday night, waiting for his take-out order, than a head of state.

Whatever seemed ordinary about Volodymyr Zelensky a mere fortnight ago is suddenly eclipsed by a courage that is truly extraordinary.

Her eyes. They were beautiful. That’s what I first remember. They were some of the prettiest eyes I’d ever seen.

At my parents’ farm in Pittsfield, Maine, on May 4, 1981, I knew I was really in love for the first time in my life.

That this young woman had come into my life, and loved me too, I regarded as a miracle akin to the parting of the Red Sea.

It was exciting. Feelings I’d never had before this day flooded over my heart as cascading waterfalls.

“Hi Mister! I’d like to see your puppies.” The young boy smiled broadly. The farmer led the boy to a pen where a litter of puppies scampered eagerly about their mother. The farmer was selling them and the boy had been saving his money.

The farmer watched as the lad carefully scrutinized the black and white pups. After a few moments, the boy pointed to a quiet puppy sitting alone in the back of the pen. He called him and the little dog gingerly limped toward the boy, wagging its tail. “I’d like that one,” the boy said.

The gentle breeze whispered through the tall trees and played with the setting sun. The peace was palpable.

This was a beautiful place. Its serenity lingered with its sacredness.

I’ve always loved visiting cemeteries. Where do you find such a rich and diverse history gathered in a single plot of earth?

God’s presence is more than desirable - it is indispensable to the child of God. With God, his people may go to the uttermost parts of the world. Without him, we dare not venture across the street.

This was going to take courage. It was going to take conviction. It was going to take perseverance. The struggle for liberty and justice has never been for the timid.