But on another hill, the SON dies.
All heaven and earth stand still, the SON dies.
This is not just a day when children laugh and play
along the Temple way where people stop to say,
“It’s such a lovely day,” THE SON DIES!
This is man’s darkest hour, when all of Satan’s power
has rallied for the kill, upon a lonely hill,
THE SON DIES! THE SON DIES! THE SON DIES!

Weep, yes weep, but don’t despair, for the reason He hangs there
is because He loves you, all because He loves you.
Greater love has no man known than the love of God’s own Son.
Oh, how much He loves you. Oh, how much He loves you.
Jesus really loves you…

If you ask people who Saint Patrick was, you’re likely to hear that he was an Irishman who chased the snakes out of Ireland.

It may surprise you to learn that the real Saint Patrick was not actually Irish — yet his robust faith changed the Emerald Isle forever.

Patrick was born in Roman Britain to a middle-class family in about A.D. 390. When Patrick was a teenager, marauding Irish raiders attacked his home. Patrick was captured, taken to Ireland, and sold to an Irish king, who put him to work as a shepherd.

In his excellent book, How the Irish Saved Civilization, Thomas Cahill describes the life Patrick lived. Cahill writes, “The work of such slave-shepherds was bitterly isolated, months at a time spent alone in the hills.”

Patrick had been raised in a Christian home, but he didn’t really believe in God. But now — hungry, lonely, frightened, and bitterly cold — Patrick began seeking out a relationship with his Heavenly Father. As he wrote in his Confessions, “I would pray constantly during the daylight hours” and “the love of God . . . surrounded me more and more.”

Six years after his capture, God spoke to Patrick in a dream, saying, “Your hungers are rewarded. You are going home. Look — your ship is ready.”

What a startling command! If he obeyed, Patrick would become a fugitive slave, constantly in danger of capture and punishment. But he did obey — and God protected him. The young slave walked nearly 200 miles to the Irish coast. There he boarded a waiting ship and traveled back to Britain and his family.

But, as you might expect, Patrick was a different person now, and the restless young man could not settle back into his old life. Eventually, Patrick recognized that God was calling him to enter a monastery. In time, he was ordained as a priest, then as a bishop.

Finally — thirty years after God had led Patrick away from Ireland — he called him back to the Emerald Isle as a missionary.

The Irish of the fifth century were a pagan, violent, and barbaric people. Human sacrifice was commonplace. Patrick understood the danger and wrote: “I am ready to be murdered, betrayed, enslaved — whatever may come my way.”

Cahill notes that Patrick’s love for the Irish “shines through his writings . . . He [worried] constantly for his people, not just for their spiritual but for their physical welfare.”
Through Patrick, God converted thousands. Cahill writes, “Only this former slave had the right instincts to impart to the Irish a New Story, one that made sense of all their old stories and brought them a peace they had never known before.” Because of Patrick, a warrior people “lay down the swords of battle, flung away the knives of sacrifice, and cast away the chains of slavery.”

As it is with many Christian holidays, Saint Patrick’s Day has lost much of its original meaning. Instead of settling for parades, cardboard leprechauns, and “the wearing of the green,” we ought to recover our Christian heritage, celebrate the great evangelist, and teach our kids about this Christian hero.

The story is found in the Gospel of Matthew, near the end of the 10th chapter. Jesus has ended an instruction session with his disciples by stating that “..if anyone gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones because he is my disciple, I tell you the truth, he will certainly not lose his reward.” The wider scope of Jesus’ teaching in this chapter is still more amazing because He tells them that “He who receives you receives Me, and he who receives Me receives the One who sent me.” That is extraordinary! And if that were not enough to cause our jaws to drop, He goes on to say: “Anyone who receives a prophet because he is a prophet will receive a prophet’s reward, and anyone who receives a righteous man because he is a righteous man will receive a righteous man’s reward.”

When I think of all the spontaneous acts of kindness shown to us by different people who never thought of themselves as deserving attention, who never imagined that
their little “cup of cold water” merited any notice or thanks, it brings tears to my eyes and conviction to my heart. There is the remembrance of the little “bag lady” who, out of her love for the Lord and her desire to help us, collected pop cans and turned the earnings gained into a contribution for our ministry. Little things DO matter —- a LOT! Remembering more of those “cups of cold water” – a meal shared, time taken to listen to our concerns, encouraging feed-back to our attempts at ministry, a place to spend a night, a ride to the airport, godly advice, a Scripture verse spoken with love, intercessory prayer, a warm smile, risking personal difficulties for our sakes in a foreign land, a hug when words just don’t work –on and on I could go.

While I can remember many such “cups” given by various individuals, I know I have also forgotten many. But none of those lost to my memory are overlooked or forgotten by our all-seeing, all-knowing God. Those dear folks will surely not lose their reward-though I may have forgotten them- because the Lord Jesus will make good on his promise. He said “he will certainly not lose his reward.” What a joy to think of their receiving their reward from His loving hand!

Lastly, it is heartening to me to realize that the little “cups of cold water” that He may have prompted me to give to others along the way-though I have forgotten them- have also not been overlooked by the Lord. I wasn’t thinking about rewards – but He chooses to give them. The greatest reward possible to receive, and the one to which I do aspire, is to hear Him say at last: “Well done, good and faithful servant.”
–Patricia Owens

THE CHRISTMAS LAMB

Before the earth was formed, or stars were hung in space,
Before the breath of life was given to man.
God looked through time and saw a hopeless human race
And there devised His great Redemption Plan.
He sent His Son to earth to be our Savior,
The Christmas Lamb, born in a cattle stall,
That little child, born of the Virgin Mary
Was God incarnate, Savior, Lord, Immanuel.

This God of love looked down one day and saw my need,
He saw the hurt , the crying deep inside,
And with a voice so tender said: “Come unto me,
It was for you the Lamb of God has died.
And as I came, He washed the stain of sin away,
Guilt’s binding chains He broke, and gave me peace,
O praise His name, O what a hallelujah day,
He saw my need, He heard my cry, He took my place.

He sent His Son to earth to be our Savior,
The Christmas Lamb born in a cattle stall.
That little child, born of the Virgin Mary,
Was God incarnate, Savior, Lord, Immanuel,

Unto us a child has been born. Unto us a Son has been given. And his name is called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace…and even as the Wise-men of old searched for him, and brought their gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh, and laid them at his feet, so will all one day be proven wise who in their hearts bow and worship him.

Thank God for His immeasurable gift of the Christmas Lamb!

We now are trying to process all that this means. They have asked for more of our works that they will translate into Russian. We could never have dreamed, years ago, the extent to which God was going to use what He wrote through us among the Slavic churches. It certainly is His doing.

An added “big blessing” was getting to be with our dear friends from Moscow; Evgeny, Luda and Kirill Goncharenko. They were in Seattle to teach at the Institute of Spiritual Music that they have established in the NW Association of Slavic Baptist churches. It is similar to what has been going on in Moscow for years. And, as some of you know, it was Evgeny whom God used to introduce our music to the lands of Russia beginning in 1985.

We wish you could be with us to experience a worship service at the Salvation Slavic Baptist Church in the Seattle area. It of course is all in Russian, but you don’t have to know the language to sense God’s presence. And oh, the music! Imagine a big choir, a 40 piece orchestra and 20 of them strings! And so many gifted young musicians.
To those who pray for us, THANK YOU. You are a part of whatever God is able to do through us. Yes, to HIM be the glory!

A true Christian’s firsthand acquaintance with God saves him from the nervous scramble in which the world is engaged and which is popularly touted as being progress.

A real Christian is an odd number. He feels supreme love for One he has never seen, talks every day to Someone he cannot see, empties himself in order to be full, admits he is wrong so he can be declared right, goes down in order to get up, is strongest when he is weakest and richest when he is poorest.

He dies so he can live, gives away so he can keep, sees the invisible, hears the inaudible and knows that which passes knowledge.
The person who has met God is not looking for something, he has found it. He is not searching for light–upon him the light has already shone. He is not a copy, he is an original from the hand of God.

He may hear the tin whistle starting every new parade, but he will be cautious. He is waiting for a trumpet note that will call him away from the hurly-burly and set in motion a series of events that will result at last in a new heaven and a new earth. A real Christian can afford to wait!

I’m thankful to be a Christian, aren’t you?

Then, as the choir returns to the States, we fly on to the Channel Island of Guernsey for an Owens sibling reunion and where we will be presenting a Sermon in Song at the Guernsey Methodist Church. We have been told that this will be a special outreach opportunity.

In addition to the concerts, general witnessing and normal tour activities, we will be visiting historic sites of revival and spiritual awakening with the prayer that God will stir our hearts and grow our faith that He might again visit, not only the British Isles, but our own land in revival blessing.

A land that once looked God-ward is quickly turning from His way
as we choose to go the route of compromise.
The absolutes and principles that were part of yesterday
are disappearing right before our eyes.
Things once a violation of convictions we held dear
succumb to pressures felt on every hand.
We once knew what we stood for but now it’s not so clear,
Oh God, oh God, what’s happening to our land.

And God says:
“Come back to me, come back to me, oh my people don’t you see
you must return to me.”

I’ve seen on Sunday morning people gathering to pray
‘neath a steeple pointing upwards to the sky.
And I’ve heard their pastor tell them that there’s only one true way,
that the coming of the Lord is drawing high.
But I’ve also seen those churches where the light has grown dim,
where few are ever found upon their knees;
No more God’s Holy Spirit convicting men of sin,
no more the power of God that sets men free.

And God says:
Come back to me…

The heart-beat of our nation was once the family
as parents taught their children right from wrong.
They taught a Godly reverence, they taught morality,
but now respect and fear of God are gone.
As fathers seek their fortunes and mothers plan careers,
they wonder why their children don’t obey-
While we’ve been told as parents to raise a godly seed,
Why can’t we see how far we’ve turned away.

And God says:
“Come back to me, come back to me,
Oh my people, don’t you see, you must return to me.
Humble yourselves, humble yourselves and pray;
Seek my face, turn from your wicked way, you must return to me.
You must return to me…

The musical climaxes with the following number,

IT’S FRIDAY, BUT SUNDAY IS COMING!

Hope was gone for the followers of Jesus,
They’d forgotten the things He had said.
Nothing left now but deep grief and questions,
No one thought He would rise from the dead.
They had helplessly watched their beloved
as He hung on the cross in such pain.
Though they wanted to, no one could help Him
as the crowd laughed and mocked him to shame.

It’s Friday, but Sunday is coming…!

Satan tried at Christ’s birth, through King Herod,
to destroy Him by royal decree.
He had worked every scheme he could think of,
now at last he would claim victory.
All the demons of hell were rejoicing,
they just knew that they’d finally won,
for they now had accomplished their mission,
they’d succeeded in killing God’s Son.

It’s Friday, but Sunday is coming…

Early Sunday, the great God of Heaven
looked down at the sealed garden tomb
where His Only Begotten lay buried,
bound by death’s chains in darkness and gloom.
But–don’t despair, something’s going to happen,
Don’t give up, it’s approaching the hour
when the Father will reach down from glory
and reveal His omnipotent power!

There’s a flash, and an angel from heaven
blinds the men who stand guard at the door.
He rolls back that great tombstone in triumph,
for death’s chains hold the Savior no more!

Where oh grave, where oh grave is your victory?
Where oh death, where oh death is your sting?
He, the captive had now become Captor,
Jesus Christ, Lord of Lords, King of Kings!

It’s Sunday, our Savior is risen!
It’s the Lord’s Day, from death He’s been freed!
It’s Sunday, Hallelujah, He’s risen,
He is risen, is risen indeed!!
Hallelujah, Hallelujah, He’s risen.
He is risen, is risen, indeed!
Amen and Amen!

And so, we celebrate the resurrection of our Living Lord, remembering that,
THE CROSS IS BARE! THE TOMB IS EMPTY, and THE THRONE IS OCCUPIED!!

For you will hear of wars and rumors of wars…For nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom, and there will be famines and earthquakes in various places…

As I was reading the news headlines this morning; Major Earthquake in New Zealand/Libya Bombs Citizens/Oil Prices Soar/Turmoil In The Middle East, along with other news of what is happening in our own land, I was reminded of the words of a theme song, This is My Father’s World, that Patricia and I wrote some years ago for the International Baptist Convention’s retreat in Interlaken, Switzerland.

The quiet beauty of a forest, the flowers awakened by the sun,
The majesty of snow-capped mountains, the myriad colors of the dawn.
The twilight spell when day is ending, the voice of nature joins in song,
Do you know where it all began? To whom does all of this belong?
THIS IS MY FATHERS WORLD!

But, midst the good of God’s creation we see the evil caused by sin,
The threat of war and man’s rebellion, will peace and justice ever win?
We hear the wail of little children who starve and very soon will die,
Held in the loving arms of one whose eyes have no more tears to cry.
IS THIS MY FATHER’S WORLD?

At times we may just feel like quitting, the work gets harder every day,
For greed and hatred keep prevailing as man continues on his way.
Take hope, the story is not ended, the final chapter’s still to come,
Lift up your eyes, pull back the veil, God still is seated on His throne.
THIS IS MY FATHER’S WORLD!!

ROMANS 8:22-23–’We know that all of creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time. Not only so, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies.”

In the meantime, as we wait, we must never lose sight of the fact that: THE CROSS IS BARE, THE TOMB IS EMPTY and THE THRONE IS OCCUPIED!! Hallelujah!