Thursday, October 20, 2016

Stories of Grace - Part 1 - Hudson Taylor

Hudson Taylor's Moment of Grace Here is a post I found about Hudson Taylor's moment of Grace, the day he discovered what the gospel is all about.  It's a read, but well worth it.  Thanks for the head up Gramp!
"No other missionary in the nineteen centuries since the Apostle Paul has had a wider vision and has carried out a more systematized plan of evangelizing a broad geographical area than Hudson Taylor." - Ruth Tucker

2012-09-15 - THE EXCHANGED LIFE, Chapter 14 - J. HUDSON TAYLOR
(From “Hudson Taylor’s Spiritual Secret” - Dr. & Mrs. Howard Taylor)

Yes, in me, in me He dwelleth -
I in Him and He in me!
And my empty soul He filleth
Now and through eternity. - H. Bonar

Six months after the foregoing letter was written, a junk northward bound on the Grand Canal was carrying a passenger whose heart overflowed with a great, new-found joy. Mr. Judd in Yangehow was expecting the return of his friend and leader, but was hardly prepared for the transformation which had taken place in the one he knew so well. Scarcely waiting for greetings, Mr. Taylor plunged into his story. In characteristic fashion - his hands behind his back - he walked up and down the room exclaiming, “Oh, Mr. Judd, God has made me a new man! God has made me a new man!”

Wonderful was the experience that had come in answer to prayer, yet so simple as almost to baffle description. It was just as it was long ago, “Whereas I was blind, now I see!”

Amid a pile of letters awaiting Mr. Taylor in Chinkiang, had been one from John McCarthy, written in the old home in Hangchow. The glory of a great sunrise was upon him - the inward light whose dawning makes all things new. To tell Mr. Taylor about it was his longing, for he knew something of the exercise of soul through which his friend was passing. But where to begin, how to put it into words he knew not.

I do wish I could have a talk with you now [he wrote], about the way of holiness. At the time you were speaking to me about it, it was the subject of all others occupying my thoughts, not from anything I had read … so much as from a consciousness of failure - a constant falling short of that which I felt should be aimed at; an unrest; a perpetual striving to find some way by which one might continually enjoy that communion, that fellowship, at times so real but more often so visionary, so far off! …

Do you know, I now think that this striving, longing, hoping for better days to come is not the true way to holiness, happiness or usefulness. It is better, no doubt, far better than being satisfied with poor attainments, but not the best way after all. I have been struck with a passage from a book … entitled Christ is All. It says,

“The Lord Jesus received is holiness begun; the Lord Jesus cherished is holiness advancing; the Lord Jesus counted upon as never absent would be holiness complete. …

“He is most holy who has most of Christ within, and joys most fully in the finished work. It is defective faith which clogs the feet and causes many a fall.”

This last sentence, I think I now fully endorse. To let my loving Savior work in me His will, my sanctification, is what I would live for by His grace. Abiding, not striving nor struggling; looking off unto Him; trusting Him for present power; … resting in the love of an almighty Savior, in the joy of a complete salvation, “from all sin” - this is not new, and yet “tis new to me. I feel as though the dawning of a glorious day had risen upon me. I hail it with trembling, yet with trust. I seem to have got to the edge only, but of a boundless sea; to have sipped only, but of that which fully satisfied. Christ literally all seems to me, now, the power, the only power for service, the only ground for unchanging joy. …

How then to have our faith increased? Only by thinking of all that Jesus is and all He is for us: His life, His death, His work, He Himself as revealed to us in the Word, to be the subject of our constant thoughts. Not a striving to have faith … but a looking off to the Faithful One seems all we need; a resting in the Loved One entirely, for time and for eternity.

We do not know just how the miracle was wrought; but, “As I read, I saw it all,” Mr. Taylor wrote. “I looked to Jesus, and when I saw - oh, how joy flowed!”

He was a joyous man now [Mr. Judd recorded], a bright happy Christian. He had been a toiling, burdened one before, with latterly not much rest of soul. It was resting in Jesus now, and letting Him do the work - which makes all the difference. Whenever he spoke in meetings after that, a new power seemed to flow from him, and in the practical things of life a new peace possessed him. Troubles did not worry him as before. He cast everything on God in a new way, and gave more time to prayer. Instead of working late at night, he began to go to bed earlier, rising at 5 A.M. to give time to Bible study and prayer (often two hours) before the work of the day began.

It was the exchanged life that had come to him - the life that is indeed “No longer I.” Six months earlier he had written, “I have continually to mourn that I follow at such a distance and learn so slowly to imitate my precious Master.” There was no thought of imitation now! It was in blessed reality “Christ liveth in me.” And how great the difference! - instead of bondage, liberty; instead of failure, quiet victories within; instead of fear and weakness, a restful sense of sufficiency in Another. So great was the deliverance, that from that time onward Mr. Taylor could never do enough to help to make this precious secret plain to hungry hearts wherever he might be. And there are so many hungry hearts that need such help today that we venture to quote at length from one of his first letters on the subject. It was to his sister, Mrs. Broomhall, whose burdens with a family which grew to number ten children were very real and pressing.

So many thanks for your dear, long letter. … I do not think you have written me such a letter since our return to China. I know it is with you as with me - you cannot - not you will not. Mind and body will not bear more than a certain amount of strain, or do more than a certain amount of work.

As to work - mine was never so plentiful, so responsible or so difficult, but the weight and strain are all gone. The last month or more has been, perhaps, the happiest of my life, and I long to tell you a little of what the Lord has done for my soul. I do not know how far I may be able to make myself intelligible about it, for there is nothing new or strange or wonderful - and yet, all is new! ..

Perhaps I may make myself more clear if I go back a little. Well, dearie, my mind has been greatly exercised for six or eight months past, feeling the need personally and for our Mission of more holiness, life, power in our souls. But personal need stood first and was the greatest. I felt the ingratitude, the danger, the sin of not living nearer to God. I prayed, agonized, fasted, strove, made resolutions, read the Word more diligently, sought more time for meditation - but all without avail. Every day, almost every hour, the consciousness of sin oppressed me.

I knew that if only I could abide in Christ all would be well, but I could not. I would begin the day with prayer, determined not to take my eye off Him for a moment, but pressure of duties, sometimes very trying, and constant interruptions apt to be so wearing, caused me to forget Him. Then one’s nerves get so fretted in this climate that temptations to irritability, hard thoughts and sometimes unkind words are all the more difficult to control. Each day brought its register of sin and failure, of lack of power. To will was indeed “present with me,” but how to perform I found not.

Then came the question, is there no rescue? Must it be thus to the end - constant conflict, and too often defeat? How could I preach with sincerity that, to those who receive Jesus, “to them gave he power to become the sons of God” (i.e., Godlike) when it was not so in my own experience? Instead of growing stronger, I seemed to be getting weaker and to have less power against sin; and no wonder, for faith and even hope were getting low. I hated myself, I hated my sin, yet gained no strength against it. I felt I was a child of God. His Spirit in my heart would cry, in spite of all, “Abba, Father.” But to rise to my privileges as a child, I was utterly powerless.

I thought that holiness, practical holiness, was to be gradually attained by a diligent use of the means of grace. There was nothing I so much desired as holiness, nothing I so much needed; but far from in any measure attaining it, the more I strove after it, the more it eluded my grasp, until hope itself almost died out, and I began to think that - perhaps to make heaven the sweeter - God would not give it down here. I do not think that I was striving to attain it in my own strength. I knew I was powerless. I told the Lord so, and asked Him to give me help and strength. Sometimes I almost believed that He would keep and uphold me; but on looking back in the evening - alas! there was but sin and failure to confess and mourn before God.

I would not give you the impression that this was the only experience of those long, weary months. It was a too frequent state of soul, and that towards which I was tending, which almost ended in despair. And yet, never did Christ seem more precious; a Savior who could and would save such a sinner! … And sometimes there were seasons not only of peace but of joy in the Lord; but they were transitory, and at best there was a sad lack of power. Oh, how good the Lord has been in bringing this conflict to an end!

All the time I felt assured that there was in Christ all I needed, but the practical question was - how to get it out. He was rich truly, but I was poor; He was strong, but I weak. I knew full well that there was in the root, the stem, abundant fatness, but how to get it into my puny little branch was the question. As gradually light dawned, I saw that faith was the only requisite - was the hand to lay hold on His fullness and make it mine. But I had not this faith.

I strove for faith, but it would not come; I tried to exercise it, but in vain. Seeing more and more the wondrous supply of grace laid up in Jesus, the fullness of our precious Savior, my guilt and helplessness seemed to increase. Sins committed appeared but as trifles compared with the sin of unbelief which was their cause, which could not or would not take God at His word, but rather made Him a liar! Unbelief was I felt the damning sin of the world; yet I indulged in it. I prayed for faith, but it came not. What was I to do?

When my agony of soul was at its height, a sentence in a letter from dear McCarthy was used to remove the scales from my eyes, and the Spirit of God revealed to me the truth of our oneness with Jesus as I had never known it before. McCarthy, who had been much exercised by the same sense of failure but saw the light before I did, wrote (I quote from memory):

“But how to get faith strengthened? Not by striving after faith, but by resting on the Faithful One.”

As I read, I saw it all! “If we believe not, he abideth faithful.” I looked to Jesus and saw (and when I saw, oh, how joy flowed!) that He had said, “I will never leave thee.”

“Ah, there is rest!” I thought, “I have striven in vain to rest in Him. I’ll strive no more. For has not He promised to abide with me - never to leave me, never to fail me?” And, dearie, He never will.

Nor was this all He showed me, nor one half. As I thought of the Vine and the branches, what light the blessed Spirit poured direct into my soul! How great seemed my mistake in wishing to get the sap, the fulness out of Him! I saw not only that Jesus will never leave me, but that I am a member of His body, of His flesh and of His bones. The vine is not the root merely, but all - root, stem, branches, twigs, leaves, flowers, fruit. And Jesus is not that alone - He is soil and sunshine, air and showers, and ten thousand times more that we have ever dreamed, wished for or needed. Oh, the joy of seeing this truth! I do pray that the eyes of your understanding too may be enlightened, that you may know and enjoy the riches freely given us in Christ.

Oh, my dear Sister, it is a wonderful thing to be really one with a risen and exalted Savior, to be a member of Christ! Think what it involves. Can Christ be rich and I poor? Can your right hand be rich and your left poor? or your head be well fed while your body starves? Again, think of its bearing on prayer. Could a bank clerk say to a customer, “It was only your hand, not you that wrote that check,” or “I cannot pay this sum to your hand, but only to yourself”? No more can your prayers or mine be discredited if offered in the name of Jesus (i.e., not for the sake of Jesus merely, but on the ground that we are His, His members) so long as we keep within the limits of Christ’s credit - a tolerably wide limit! If we ask any thing according to his will … we know that we have the petitions that we desired of him.”

The sweetest part, if one may speak of one part being sweeter than another, is the rest which full identification with Christ brings. I am no longer anxious about anything, as I realize this; for He, I know, is able to carry out His will, and His will is mine. It makes no matter where He places me, or how. That is rather for Him to consider than for me; for in the easiest position He must give me His grace, and in the most difficult His grace is sufficient. It little matters to my servant whether I send him to buy a few cash worth of things, or the most expensive articles. In either case he looks to me for the money and brings me his purchases. So, if God should place me in serious perplexity, must He not give me much guidance; in positions of great difficulty, much grace; in circumstances of great pressure and trial, much strength? No fear that His resources will prove unequal to the emergency! And His resources are mine, for He is mine, and is with me and dwells in me.

And since Christ has thus dwelt in my heart by faith, how happy have I been! I wish I could tell you about it, instead of writing. I am not better that before. In a sense, I do not wish to be, nor am I striving to be. But I am dead and buried with Christ - aye, and risen too! and now Christ lives in me, and “the life that I now live in the flesh, I live by the faith of the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.” …

And now I must close. I have not said half I would, nor as I would, had I more time. May God give you to lay hold on these blessed truths. Do not let us continue to say, in effect, “Who shall ascend into heaven? (that is, to bring Christ down from above).” In other words, do not let us consider Him as far off, when God has made us one with Him, members of His very body. Nor should we look upon this experience, these truths, as for the few. They are the birthright of every child of God, and no one can dispense with them without dishonoring our Lord. The only power for deliverance from sin or for true service is Christ.

And it was all so simple and practical! - as the busy mother when she too entered into this rest of faith.

“But are you always conscious of abiding in Christ?” Mr. Taylor was asked many years later.

“While sleeping last night,” he replied, “did I cease to abide in your home because I was unconscious of the fact? We should never be conscious of not abiding in Christ.”

I change, He changes not;
The Christ can never die:
His truth, not mine, the resting place;
His love, not mine, the tie.

Friday, January 02, 2009

Empty Inboxes

Thinking of adopting this policy. Hummmm..... 5 sentence maximum on replies. If people wanted longer emails, I could just send them my address and we could write letters : )

Saturday, November 22, 2008


A little girl asked her mother: "How did the human race appear?"

The mother answered: "God made Adam and Eve; they had children; and so was all mankind made."

Two days later the girl asked her father the same question. The father answered: "Many years ago there were monkeys from which the human race evolved."

The confused girl returned to her mother and said: "Mum, how is it possible that you told me the human race was created by God, and Dad said they developed from monkeys?"

The mother answered: "Well, Dear, it is very simple. I told you about my side of the family, and your father told you about his."

*Lifted from some email foward...

Friday, September 12, 2008

Internet Overload

Well, it has finally happened. One too many lunches wasted. One too many real life priorities put off. One too many hours wasted at work. I'm on Internet Information Overload (IIO). I think somehow I thought it would be cool that now that I can access all the world's information, I should. I was wrong. Blogs, news sites, aggregators that aggregate other aggregators, twitter, email, wikipedia........It has all come crashing down on me today. I will never keep abreast of the world's information. I will never know everything. I'm taking my lunches back. I'm taking my free time back. I'm taking my family time back. I'm taking my personal quiet time with God back. I don't think it will be easy, but it starts today....

Who knows, maybe if the news is really important, it'll find me?

Wednesday, September 03, 2008

The living Room

Relaxing in the evening...
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Tuesday, August 19, 2008

Michael Phelps

A tribute to the 2008 Summer Olympics...

1 - There is no need to save the whales, Michael Phelps has saved them all.

2 - Michael Phelps caught Moby Dick. He then let him go because he is just that awesome.

3 - There is no need for an astronaut to go to Mars. Michael Phelps has already been there and swam so much that there is no longer water.

4 - The real reason Poseidon has a magical trident is to protect himself from Michael Phelps.

5 - If you look into the eye of a hurricane you will see Michael Phelps swimming.

6 - Every time Michael Phelps farts in the water a hurricane is formed.

7 - Michael Phelps caused an uproar when he joined the United States Olympic swim team instead of his native Atlantis. The Atlantians blew themselves up in protest.

Jokes "borrowed" from

Thursday, April 17, 2008

Can't Take Criticism

Although Proverbs warn me to keep my cool and to absorb as much criticism as I can (filtering as much as possible that is negative), it's like as a human I am not built for criticism. When someone points out error in me it's like I burn inside. Anybody else feel like that? Lord help me to be cool as a cucumber....

Wednesday, March 26, 2008

My 3 Friends - WWH


Hello all! I would like to just take a second to introduce you to 3 good friends of mine. Their names are What, Why and How. I met these friends in university and they helped me to not go crazy. If you ever have a class in something and you kept thinking: "Man I hate this class, I am not learning anything, *sigh*", chances are that your teacher does not know my friends What, Why and How. I believe it is the secret of great teaching!


First you start with What. What are we learning? This seems obvious but you would not believe the number of professors that I had that just jumped to the how. You start taking notes and your brain is frantically trying to put the pieces together: "Ok, ok, yup, yah, sure, right, oh then that goes there.............WHAT ARE WE DOING!!??". That's a good question! The teacher should start with this first.


Now that I know what I will be learning for the I care? Where will I use this? How will this help me? Where does it fit in the grand scheme of things? These are all Why questions. There is no point in teaching someone how to do something until they have a reason to learn it. If you give them a good why, they'll be chomping at the bit for the how.

"He who has a why to live can bear almost any how"
-Friedrich Nietzsche


With the What in place and the Why questions settled, it's time to move onto the How. Tell me you have a good how!? You'd better! Nothing worse than somebody who gets up and tells you about something and why it's so cool, then doesn't tell you how to do it!!! Or even worse, does a terrible job of telling you how to do it (now they've confused you and wasted your time). We can talk about how to teach a good how another time, I just wanted to introduce you to WWH.

Next time you are in a learning environment and you think it stinks, ask yourself which one is missing (or in the wrong order), the What, the Why or the How.

Friday, March 04, 2005

The b sharps jamming out at the UNB red and black revue. Joey Stilwell on guitar, Matt Steeves on Drums and Myself on Bass. We played a 7 part original funk riff called "Bohemoth in Flight". It is a metaphor of how the song is like watching a big awesome bohemoth funk sound take off and just keep rising and flying. The song has 7 parts, so it never comes down. It just climbs for like 7 minutes until you feel like your head will pop off! It's pretty fun to play! Kudos to the boys. Thanks to all my friends who came out to see us! And shiloh for the mashed potatoes after the show. Yow.
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Hospital Thoughts - Gramp Jamer

From 1948 to 1999 I was never in a hospital, except to visit someone else. Then on the morning of Dec. 8 about eleven A M I found myself admitted as a patient who had suffered a major stroke. This was a completely new experience for me and I would like to share some things I learned from my hospital bed.

1 - First thing I learned was that the nurses were not all the same. Somehow during my many visits to friends or family members I never noticed this fact. They had all looked so much alike, that I had never really realized how different they are. They come in all shapes and sizes, of course, but also in all types of personalities. This is such a simple observation; I was quite surprised that I hadn’t noticed it before. When you are lying on your back, not able to move very much on your own, you must depend on them. That is when you start to notice the difference. You can tell some enjoy their work, and to some it is just a job that puts bread on the table. The ones that really enjoy their work are a joy to be around. Since I was partly paralyzed, they came in every two hours to pull me up in the bed, and check my vitals. This is when you see them as they really are, especially at four A M I can truthfully say though, that I found very few that were not pleasant, and easy to get along with even at that time of day. I was on 4 B South for the first few weeks, where all the nurses are qualified to work in the N.I.C.U. This means they are above average in competence and skill. They would take their appointed shifts in the unit, and then work on the floor, as if it didn’t matter. I soon found out that certain patients really gave them a hard time, so I went out of my way to try and cheer them up when they came my way. This paid off in many ways. One memory I have, is being moved from 4 B S over to 4 C S, which is the Rehab floor. Since it is only one tower over on the same floor, they just roll your bed and all your belongings across the connecting causeway. The nurses actually disputed among themselves as to whom would get to push my bed. Irene and some other nurse won the right as I recall, and they seemed to have a ball. I think they were trying to say how much they appreciated having me as their patient, without telling me directly. I used to have lots of fun joking with them, and keeping them laughing as much as possible. One night when my hand was still paralyzed, I used to speak to my fingers and tell them what to do. This one night I couldn’t sleep, so I was telling my fingers to get moving. I thought I was speaking under my breath, so no one would hear but apparently the little night nurse was walking by my room and heard me. She came in to see who I was talking to and I tryed to explain that I talked to my fingers all the time. She thought this was quite strange, and must have told the other nurses about it. The next morning when they came in to make my bed, one of them mentioned something about it and I said yes I talk to them all the time, and tell them what to do, but they don’t do a thing, They just remind me of some rebellious teenagers. One of the nurses said “I know exactly what you mean, I have two of them at home”.

2 - Another thing I learned early on was that our bodies were never designed to take on or to dispose of fluids from a horizontal position. Plastic straws and urinals have been designed to help, but they are a poor substitute for standing or sitting upright.

3 - I now understand why they call us patients----its because they are teaching us to be patient. This is a hard lesson to learn for some of us. The method they use to teach us, as near as I can see, is to make us wait for everything. When we learn patience, then, we become a good patient.

These are a few things that I remember, and hope that I won’t soon forget, so I can pass them on to others.