Faithprints: Touching Your World for Jesus

]>

FAITHPRINTS

TOUCHING YOUR WORLD FOR JESUS

]>

FAITHPRINTS

TOUCHING YOUR WORLD FOR JESUS

Rebekah Binkley Montgomery

]>

FAITHPRINTS

Touching Your World for Jesus

Copyright 2013 by Rebekah Binkley Montgomery

ISBN 978-0-89112-227-2

Printed in the United States of America

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, or otherwise—without prior written consent.

All scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated, are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV®. Copyright ©1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan.

All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com The NIV and New International Version are trademarks registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office by Biblica, Inc.™

Scriptures noted NKJV are taken from the New King James Version. Copyright © 1982 by Thomas Nelson, Inc. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Scripture quotations noted KJV are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.

Published in association with Hartline Literary Agency, 123 Queenston Drive, Pittsburgh, PA 15235.

Interior text design by Becky Hawley

Cover design by Elizabeth Fulton

Leafwood Publishers is an imprint of Abilene Christian University Press

1626 Campus Court

Abilene, Texas 79601

1-877-816-4455

www.leafwoodpublishers.com

13 14 15 16 17 18 / 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

]>

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Preface

Section One: Faithprints One-to-One

Introduction to Section One

1 Leave a Secret Faithprint on the Down and Out

2 Make a Faithprint on a Prisoner with a Visit

3 Faithprints Made by Stretcher-Bearers

4 Praying with Someone in Need

5 Making Faithprints with a Prayer Partner

Section Two: Faithprints on Your Community

Introduction to Section Two

6 Start a Book Club: Make a Faithprint

7 Helping a Family Survive a Fire (or Other Catastrophic Disaster)

8 Mobilizing Community Response to a Disaster

9 Providing Clothing for Needy Children

Section Three: Faithprints by the Church

Introduction to Section Three

10 Form a Prayer Team to Faithprint

11 Fasting for Faithprints

12 Faithprints on the Hard-to-Help, Needy, Damaged, and Seemingly Impossible

13 Donating and Accepting Gifts of Real Estate, Automobiles, or Other Valuables

Postscript

]>

PREFACE

I felt like I was living in one of those nightmares where the boogeyman was chasing me, but my legs only moved in slow motion. So many issues—family, health, career, finances—bogged me down.

Then God gave me a dream. I was sitting alone in my garden of prayer, waiting, hoping Jesus would meet me there. And he came! Excited, I stretched my hands toward him. He eagerly responded, reaching back to me.

Then I saw them: his hands—powerful carpenter’s hands, sensitive and skilled but horribly mangled. The nail holes weren’t tidy like I always imagined but ragged, gaping wounds. I could literally see through his hands—bones, sinews, muscle, and destruction.

Oh, Jesus! Your hands. They’re ruined!

He turned them over, examining them from backs to palms. When I hung on the cross they supported the entire weight of my body, he explained. Not to make you feel guilty, but the most damage was done when I took on the sin of the world. Sin is heavy.

I frequently have cause to remember.

Gently, I took his hands in mine, and for a time, we sat in silence while I studied his once beautiful, now disfigured, hands. I saw his fingerprints and traced their whorls. I thought, These hands created the world and did miracles. These hands healed the lame, blind, and crippled, fed five thousand. They reached for a drowning Peter. These hands washed disciples’ dirty feet and then blessed the bread and wine. These hands willingly were nailed to the cross and yet they still reach out to me. These hands bear the scars of true love.

I’m so sorry, said I. Is there anything I can do to help your hands heal?

Then he took my hands in his. May I use your hands? Will you help me with the work that needs to be done?

My hands shook convulsively as I held them out before him. Oh Lord, how can you use mine? My hands don’t have your skill or power. And besides, Lord, you know my problem.

Of course, he did know. A wasting disease had cost me much of the use of my right hand, and I had limited use of my left. I was frustrated doing everyday tasks let alone anything for his kingdom. Was he going to do a miracle and heal my hands so I could work better for him?

Knowing what I was thinking, he smiled. He had an even greater miracle in mind.

Then he held up his still-scarred hands to remind me. Trust me. I do some of my best work with less-than-perfect hands.

So I do as he asks: I trust him.

That is what this book, Faithprints: Touching Your World for Jesus, is about—the work he has for you and me to do for him.

Sometimes the jobs or Faithprints will be very simple things—coffee with a new friend, a phone call to someone grieving, a visit and piece of pie for a shut-in, a letter to a person in jail—just loving, personal touches from Jesus using your hands and my less-than-perfect ones.

Then, too, he may use our hands to make Faithprints that will totally surprise us.

For example, he’s using my hands to start a cancer center in Haiti. (I’m still shaking my head over THAT one.) Or paint Bible story murals in a hospital. (With my limitations I still can’t figure out how they turned out so well!) And other things that are nothing less than miracles that were accomplished by his power with my less-than-perfect hands.

Faithprinting Gets Personal

If you love Jesus, if you know him, if he lives in you, you understand how much the world needs his touch. But before you demand he touch and change the world, how about praying for your own town? Or your neighborhood? Or your extended family? Your immediate family? You?

Here’s where our faith in Jesus gets personal. And real. Because through our hands, Jesus makes his clearest Faithprints on those nearest and dearest.

I learned this one Sunday in church as I waited to be served communion. I was communing with Jesus in the prayer garden of my soul and enjoying his presence when I decided to bring people I was concerned for to Jesus for his touch.

First was Harry.

Here, Jesus, I said. Here is my friend Harry. Harry has cancer. Will you please heal him?

In my prayer, I saw Jesus touch Harry with his nail-scarred hand. When Jesus removed his hand, a heart-shaped bloodstain remained. I immediately realized what this was: a Faithprint! Because I asked, Jesus would touch and heal Harry—perhaps not just physically—but in ways and places only he knows.

I became excited. This is so easy! I thought. I wanted to leave Faithprints everywhere and on everyone. I knew lots of hurting people, some exasperating ones, too. I wanted Jesus to touch them all.

So in prayer, one by one, I began dragging people to Jesus for his touch.

Then, to my surprise, I came to Mr. Impossible, a person with whom I had a long history of annoying interactions. I hadn’t intended to pray for him, but here he was, so . . .

Jesus, I said. Here is Mr. Impossible. This guy is a real pain-in-the-neck. Touch him! Touch him real hard!

Jesus smiled. He took my hand in his palm and began to reach out to Mr. Impossible.

Wait, Lord! If I touch him, I’m liable to smack him, I said.

Holding my hand more firmly, Jesus continued stretching me toward Mr. Impossible. As we finally touched him, a miracle occurred. Love passed from Jesus to me to Mr. Impossible. Yes, he was still his aggravating self, but, because Jesus was empowering me, I could love him.

When we removed our hands, surprise! A Faithprint remained. I knew Jesus would help me touch Mr. Impossible for him. And he did. In Faithprints: Touching Your World for Jesus, I will tell you how. I hope you will be inspired to lend Jesus your hands, too.

Often, in the garden of prayer, I ask him, How are your hands today? He holds them up for me to see. I see that even though they are wounded, his hands still have the healing touch.

So I still have work to do.

As do you.

]>

SECTION ONE

FAITHPRINTS ONE-TO-ONE

]>

INTRODUCTION TO SECTION ONE

We sat on the wooden steps of my front porch, an angry young man smoking a cigarette and me. He was still agitated from a screaming, cursing fight with his live-in girlfriend that had ended only a few moments before.

I befriended both of them separately; they evidently befriended each other and moved in together, and now they were trying to drag me into their drama.

No thanks.

I heard them coming down the street, screaming and cursing and threatening each other with violence, before they finally showed up on my front lawn.

Off my property, I calmly told them. Until you lower your voices and speak to one another in a respectful manner, stay off my lawn, or I will call the police. Take your fight across the street to the park.

So they did.

They knew I would call the police and wouldn’t have held a grudge if I had. Furthermore, they both knew my house rules, so they didn’t take it personally that I ordered them off my property.

My house rules? Boundaries: I have them. People will not bring their hell into my house. I don’t allow drama. I don’t permit screaming, cursing fits. I don’t permit people to call each other rude names. They can smoke outside and take their butts with them or put them in my garbage can but not leave them on my lawn. They may set their can of beer on the driveway before they knock on my door. It’s not coming in the house, either. When they calm down and are ready to behave, they can come in—unless they’ve stolen from me in the past. Then they can sit on the porch, and I’ll come out and talk with them—like I was doing with this young man.

After I ordered them off my yard, the young man and the young woman went to the park and screamed abuse at one another, threatened bodily harm, and generally acted like lunatics until a police cruiser drove by. I watched the officer park his car and approach them. I guess they were both tired and a little hoarse from fighting; at the officer’s suggestion, like a violent summer thunderstorm that expends its fury then settles back to grumbling and heat lightning, they fired a few parting verbal volleys at one another, then went their separate ways. The young man headed toward my house, the girl to parts unknown.

The young man stood on the sidewalk in front of my house, shoulders hunched, staring at his shoes, wiping his tears.

Oh Jesus, please give me wisdom, I prayed. I grabbed a box of tissues, went out on the porch, and invited him to sit on the steps.

He sat down, lit a cigarette, and talked; I listened.

He loved her, he said, the best he was able. They had so much in common and wanted to get married, but she did things she knew would make him mad.

True, they did have a lot in common. Both had messy, complicated lives, were alcoholics with poor impulse control, dabbled in drugs, were chronically unemployed, and possessed poor decision-making skills—not exactly the ingredients for a great marriage or even a friendship.

Oh, yes; they also had anger issues.

Why would she do these things? he asked over and over. Why didn’t she appreciate all the effort he was putting into their relationship? Why? Why? Why?

He was on a roll, and I didn’t interrupt. Maybe eventually he’d come up for air, and then, if he asked, I could insert some new information into his life. In the meantime, while he rattled on about how much he loved her and how little respect and appreciation he received from her, it gave me a chance to pray.

Truth, Lord; give him ears to hear and a heart to receive your truth. Send your Holy