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    Glimpses of My Friend the King
    Glimpses of My Friend the King
    Glimpses of My Friend the King
    Ebook118 pages1 hour

    Glimpses of My Friend the King

    By James Howard

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    About this ebook

    Who is Jesus Christ?

    After 2000 years, why are we still asking that question? Can it be that this all-knowing, all-loving, all-powerful person is still intersecting the lives of people today? Inspirational author James Howard says “Yes!”

    In Glimpses of My Friend the King, the dynamic and life-changing person of Jesus Christ is presented through a series of powerfully moving short stories, each one revealing a new aspect of this complex yet approachable person. Topics such as the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus Christ, spiritual warfare, emotional healing, the Bema Seat, and the nature of a personal relationship with the King of Kings are all explored in this fresh and poignant look at the unchanging Son of God. Whether you already know Him or not, a deeper appreciation of Jesus Christ awaits you in Glimpses of My Friend the King.

    Glimpses of My Friend the King is intended for readers of all ages.

    James Howard, part-time author and long-time friend of Jesus Christ, first released Glimpses of My Friend the King in 2004. He decided to re-release it with the success of his novel What So Proudly We Hailed last year. He has three other novels under his belt, as well as numerous plays and poems and other short fiction. He currently lives in Charleston, SC.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBookBaby
    Release dateMar 4, 2004
    ISBN9781483571140
    Glimpses of My Friend the King
    Author

    James Howard

    A writer of novels, plays, poems, and short stories, author James Howard has shown he knows his way around a pen, but in this first non-fiction book he draws from his 30 years of experience in business and manufacturing. His work in industrial maintenance, management, purchasing, inventory management, and counter sales has brought him into a wide variety of sales people. Of his experiences he says, "I am not a salesperson, nor have I ever been a salesperson. However, I believe that I have a strong history of sales experiences that make me uniquely qualified to write this little book. For I have been a customer. Allow me to explain. "For many years I was employed, both as a worker and as a manager, of an in-house machinery repair shop in a large industrial facility. Over a million of dollars of parts and equipment flowed through our operation annually and hundreds of sales people called on us over the years. Some were professional and knowledgeable. Some were decent but could've used some improvement. But some, I'm sorry to say, were utterly hopeless. "Every time I would conclude a visit by one of the latter I would inevitably say aloud, 'One day I'm going to write a book about salesmanship from the customer's perspective.' And here it is. "Maybe my experiences can help hard working sales people, and maybe everyone can get a laugh along the way. "As to the Quintessential Salesperson, there is one I regarded as the best in the trade and I frequently referred to him by that title. But frankly, there were others who were of the right stuff, too, so for my book the Quintessential Salesperson will be a conglomeration of them all. I would often confer with them regarding the events which prompted this book so in that sense the tips from the Quintessential Salesperson are from real salespeople, often verbatim. "I hope these true stories make you smile... and make you think!" So, come get a perspective from the other side of the desk with "10 Sales Tips." You'll be glad you did!

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    • 5/5
      Glimpses of My Friend the King written by James Howard, is a collection of eight short stories that uses fictional events, characters, and situations to show the depth of Jesus's love. Each of the stories are engaging, some a little sad, but all are incredibly moving and show the various ways Jesus can enter a life and shine His loving light in it.James Howard is an artist with words, painting descriptive pictures in my mind as I read, and allowing me to share the feelings of the characters in such stories as "White Sandy Beach" (in which a father mourns the loss of his daughter), or "Walk-ins Welcome" (where a woman visits a dentist). The messages in these stories are wholly inspirational, and as promised, have opened in me a deeper appreciation for Jesus Christ. There are many stories out there demonstrating Jesus's love for mankind, but these stories are entirely original and speak of the ways, through fictional tales, of the types of relationships He wants to have with us, and the things He wants to do for us, all because He can. I just found all of them to be incredibly moving, and they would be wonderful for reading as a family or a group because they seem to encourage discussion (a sort of "What did you take away from this story" type of discussion).
    • 5/5
      Wow! This is a book that reaches right down to your soul and touches it. It consists of eight stories. Each story shows how Christ is there for us and how much he loves us. My favorite of all of them had to be the story "The Assassin". It is the story of a young boy with a father who is abusive. On his side is a Christian grandmother who prays for him daily. The story takes you through several stages of Stephen's life and shows you how the demons work to bring us down. It also shows how Christians in the world pray to keep the demons at bay. Intercessory prayer strengthens the angels to protect us. As Stephen struggled with needing to feel loved, the invitation of a young girl to attend church with her, and his grandmother's constant prayer for him I felt an urgency. I wanted to shout at him, "Don't leave without getting your life straight." You might not have until Saturday's church service. Do it know." I could not put the book down until I read the conclusion to the story. The book demonstrates how patient God is with us, his stubborn people. This is not a book to be read and put on the shelves but a book to be read and passed around. It seems that God brings certain books into my life when they are needed. This one came after I told a parent that I understood her Christian beliefs and wishes for a daughter and would modify an assignment. I was then chastised by administration for bringing my own religious beliefs into the situation. I was feeling the arrows of defeat hitting me. I see it is getting more and more difficult every day for a Christian to let others know about Christ. It is on those days that I feel God holding me closer. I will recommend this book to everyone I know.

    Book preview

    Glimpses of My Friend the King - James Howard

    King

    Airship Dreams

    It was a warm, early autumn day when John Barkley stopped his car next to the dirt road at the footpath that led to the cabin on the hill. The land, wooded on both sides of the road, belonged to the hunting club where he was a member. But the thirty-four-year-old single man was not a hunter. He didn’t even own a gun, except for the fifty-caliber black powder pistol that he fired off for July Fourth or New Year’s. Instead, he was a member for the dark country skies that it afforded him and his telescope. The other members, all hunters, had at first been dubious of his intentions, but John’s habit of going the extra mile in performing the chores of the hunting club gained their favor and eventually he was accepted by nearly all of them. Many of them had even gone on a star safari with him during the cool fall nights. They were always welcome.

    John went to the trunk of his car and retrieved his axe. His chore for this week was splitting the firewood for the cabin’s fireplace. Although there was a maul in the cabin, John found that the light blade and contour handle of his own axe allowed him a faster swing. This was preferable to him and he could usually make each log fly apart on only one chop.

    Next to where his axe had been lying was his Thermos jug of iced tea and next to that was a large, coffee-table book about airships. He grabbed them both and shut the trunk, putting the keys into the pocket of his denim shorts. Then he turned and started up the path.

    His plan was to chop firewood for an hour or so, and then relax under the tree at the top of the hill, reading his book and drinking his tea. The book represented a recurring interest of his. Unlike astronomy, which could be indulged in by star parties, astrophotography, and direct observation, the only satisfaction that he could glean out of his interest in airships was through reading books on the subject. He had already built several models and had even tried his hand at building a flying one, but nothing could even come close to satisfying his real desire. This was, of course, to fly on a real airship, a zeppelin. Usually something would happen to trigger his interest, a blimp sighting, perhaps, or a movie on T.V. Then he would dig out all of his books and read voraciously. He would try to visualize the Graf Zeppelin’s round-the-world flight or the L59's trip to Africa during World War I. He tried to imagine floating serenely over the Atlantic in the Hindenburg, the most fabulous of all airships, and the most tragic. He would read, build a model or two, watch a documentary, then after a few months the zeppelin fever would die down. His interest would remain dormant for a few years, until the next trigger would bring it to the fore again. His interest in astronomy was constant, but his zeal for airships, intermittent as it was, far surpassed it.

    He walked the fifty yards up the rutted path to where the woods opened to a clearing. Most of the other club members owned pick up trucks and would drive up to the cabin, but his low-slung car would not make it. The cabin was in the center of the clearing and behind it was the crest of the low hill where a lone oak tree stood next to an old stump.

    John’s mind was on airships as he walked. You know, Lord, he said aloud, I was wondering why someone couldn’t use zeppelins to re-supply missionaries in the field. It seems like they could carry a lot of cargo to some very remote areas, places inaccessible by car or boat. He thought for a moment. I bet it would be beautiful, flying gracefully over the jungles of Africa or South America, performing a vital task. He turned the idea over in his head, letting the spell of it excite him.

    Another thing you could do was to go to some remote area and fly around a bit, attracting a lot of attention, then land and set up a tent. When the people came you could preach the Gospel to them and set up a church right there. People could stay behind to get the church going and the zeppelin could come back periodically, dropping off supplies and generating new interest.

    John smiled at the thought. Wouldn’t that be cool, Jesus? I mean, they’ve got Mercy ships, why not Zeppelins of Hope? They could even help out in times of crisis!

    He reached the top of the hill and put the book and jug down next to the tree. He chopped the axe down into the stump and looked around. From this vantage point he could see over the trees to the horizon. It was a perfect day. There was not a cloud in the sky. The brightness of the sun was the only thing that stood out from the vivid blue.

    My God, what a beautiful day. said John aloud. I wish I wasn’t on the mid-shift this week. This would be a perfect night to bring the telescope. He looked slowly around in all directions. Thank you, Lord, for this sight. he said. Then he took the axe and bent to his work.

    The logs were about 18 inches long and came in a variety of diameters. The smaller ones he would split into twos and the larger ones he would split into fours. For a very large one, he would chop pieces from the outside edge until it was small enough to split. After about 45 minutes of steady work his aim began to waver due to fatigue. But as he was almost finished with the amount he had set out to do, he decided to push on.

    Occasionally he would pick one up with the end cut on a slight angle. Usually a chip of wood was all that was necessary to stand it up straight for the customary one-chop split. But the last one he picked up didn’t seem to be able to stand up no matter where or how many chips he put under it. John turned it over but the other side was just as bad. He finally got the log to stand up straight, but as he swung it wavered and he only succeeded in chopping off a piece of bark. He tossed the axe abruptly onto the grass and, more determined than ever, placed the log back on the stump. He turned it a few times and tried different combinations of wood chips. As his attitude bordered on exasperation, he placed his left foot on the stump to steady the log. Carefully he crouched down with his right leg and grabbed the axe. He set his grip, reared back and chopped down at the log.

    The combination of his awkward stance and fatigued arms threw off his aim. The head of the axe struck the edge closest to him. This caused the log to topple over in his direction. The blade of the axe, deflected from its arc but still traveling at full speed, bounced off of the tumbling log and bit deeply into the right side of his knee.

    John went backwards and sat down hard with a thud that jarred his teeth. In his surprise, he looked at the gash across the side of his knee and for a quick moment saw the white of the bone before a torrent of blood began to flow. He reached over with both hands and tried to put pressure on the wound, but the blood coursed unabated through his fingers. Fear mingled with nausea began to rise and swell from out of his stomach.

    Now you’ve done it, he thought. He clenched his teeth and desperately tried to fight off panic. He looked back toward his car by the road. There was a cell phone in it. But how could he get to it? With the ligaments in his knee most likely severed, he realized that he couldn’t get up, much less walk 50 yards. And he certainly wouldn’t make it by crawling. There wouldn’t be enough time.

    I’ve got to stop this bleeding, he thought. He tried to straighten his leg to close the gash. This seemed to help a little. He rolled his left hand around to the back of his knee and pressed in with his fingers with all of his might. He thought about a tourniquet, but what could he use? He wasn’t wearing a belt, nor was he wearing socks. The only thing he could possibly use was his T-shirt. He released his knee and started to take off his shirt, but the sight of the increased flow of blood out of his knee made him want to panic again. He quickly grabbed his knee again as before, adding a sweat-rag that he took from his pocket. It was then that the tears came.

    John Barkley started crying, his sobs prompted not so much by the dull ache

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