"If we leave the devil with even one small peg in our life, he will return to hang his rotting garbage on it." Haitian pastor
Quoted in
FINISHING STRONG - Steve Farrar
"If we leave the devil with even one small peg in our life, he will return to hang his rotting garbage on it." Haitian pastor
Quoted in
FINISHING STRONG - Steve Farrar
Tell Me who? Bonhoeffer
Dietrich Bonhoeffer
I think your a man who gets what he wants
That's because I never allow myself to want what I think I can not get
Kidnapped 1995
So the little prince tamed the fox. And when the hour of his departure drew near−− "Ah," said the fox, "I shall cry." "It is your own fault," said the little prince. "I never wished you any sort of harm; but you wanted me to tame you..." "Yes, that is so," said the fox.
"But now you are going to cry!" said the little prince. "Yes, that is so," said the fox. "Then it has done you no good at all!" "It has done me good," said the fox, "because of the color of the wheat fields." And then he added: "Go and look again at the roses. You will understand now that yours is unique in all the world. Then come back to say goodbye to me, and I will make you a present of a secret." The little prince went away, to look again at the roses.
"You are not at all like my rose," he said. "As yet you are nothing. No one has tamed you, and you have tamed no one. You are like my fox when I first knew him. He was only a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But I have made him my friend, and now he is unique in all the world." And the roses were very much embarrassed.
"You are beautiful, but you are empty," he went on.
"One could not die for you. To be sure, an ordinary passerby would think that my rose looked just like you−− the rose that belongs to me.
But in herself alone she is more important than all the hundreds of you other roses: because it is she that I have watered; because it is she that I have put under the glass globe; because it is she that I have sheltered behind the screen; because it is for her that I have killed the caterpillars (except the two or three that we saved to become butterflies); because it is she that I have listened to, when she grumbled, or boasted, or even sometimes when she said nothing.
Because she is my rose. And he went back to meet the fox. "Goodbye," he said. "Goodbye," said the fox. "And now here is my secret, a very simple secret: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye."
"What is essential is invisible to the eye," the little prince repeated, so that he would be sure to remember. "It is the time you have wasted for your rose that makes your rose so important."
"The fact is that I did not know how to understand anything! I ought to have judged by deeds and not by words. She cast her fragrance and her radiance over me. I ought never to have run away from her... I ought to have guessed all the affection that lay behind her poor little stratagems. Flowers are so inconsistent! But I was too young to know how to love her..."The Little Prince, by Antoine de Saint−Exupery
He made no answer to my question, but he added: "I, too, am going back home today..." Then, sadly−−
"It is much farther... it is much more difficult..." I realised clearly that something extraordinary was happening. I was holding him close in my arms as if he were a little child; and yet it seemed to me that he was rushing headlong toward an abyss from which I could do nothing to restrain him... His look was very serious, like some one lost far away. "I have your sheep. And I have the sheep's box. And I have the muzzle..." And he gave me a sad smile. I waited a long time. I could see that he was reviving little by little. "Dear little man," I said to him, "you are afraid..." He was afraid, there was no doubt about that. But he laughed lightly. "I shall be much more afraid this evening..." Once again I felt myself frozen by the sense of something irreparable. And I knew that I could not bear the thought of never hearing that laughter any more. For me, it was like a spring of fresh water in the desert. "Little man," I said, "I want to hear you laugh again." But he said to me: "Tonight, it will be a year... my star, the
And he laughed again. Then he quickly became serious: "Tonight−− you know... do not come," said the little prince. "I shall not leave you," I said. "I shall look as if I were suffering. I shall look a little as if I were dying. It is like that. Do not come to see that. It is not worth the trouble..." "I shall not leave you." But he was worried. "I tell you−− it is also because of the snake. He must not bite you. Snakes−− they are malicious creatures. This one might bite you just for fun..." "I shall not leave you." But a thought came to reassure him: "It is true that they have no more poison for a second bite."
That night I did not see him set out on his way. He got away from me without making a sound. When I succeeded in catching up with him he was walking along with a quick and resolute step. He said to me merely: "Ah! You are there..." And he took me by the hand. But he was still worrying. "It was wrong of you to come. You will suffer. I shall look as if I were dead; and that will not be true..." I said nothing. "You understand... it is too far. I cannot carry this body with me. It is too heavy." I said nothing. "But it will be like an old abandoned shell. There is nothing sad about old shells..." I said nothing.
He was a little discouraged. But he made one more effort: "You know, it will be very nice. I, too, shall look at the stars. All the stars will be wells with a rusty pulley. All the stars will pour out fresh water for me to drink..." I said nothing. "That will be so amusing! You will have five hundred million little bells, and I shall have five hundred million springs of fresh water..." And he too said nothing more, because he was crying... "Here it is. Let me go on by myself."
And he sat down, because he was afraid. Then he said, again: "You know−− my flower... I am responsible for her. And she is so weak! She is so naïve! She has four thorns, of no use at all, to protect herself against all the world..." I too sat down, because I was not able to stand up any longer. "There now−− that is all..." He still hesitated a little; then he got up. He took one step. I could not move. There was nothing but a flash of yellow close to his ankle. He remained motionless for an instant. He did not cry out. He fell as gently as a tree falls. There was not even any sound, because of the sand.
The Little Prince, by Antoine de Saint−Exupery
I ask the indulgence of the children who may read this book for dedicating
it to a grown−up. I have a serious reason: he is the best friend I have in
the world. I have another reason: this grown−up understands everything,
even books about children. I have a third reason: he lives in France where
he is hungry and cold. He needs cheering up. If all these reasons are not
enough, I will dedicate the book to the child from whom this grown−up
grew. All grown−ups were once children−− although few of them
remember it. And so I correct my dedication:
To Leon Werth
when he was a little boy
The Little Prince, by Antoine de Saint−Exupery
"It would have been better to return at the same time the," fox said. "For instance, if you come at four in the afternoon, I'll begin to be happy by three. The closer it gets to four, the happier I'll feel. By four I'll be all excited and worried: I'll discover what it costs to be happy! But if you come at any old time, I'll never know when I should prepare my heart . . . There must be rites."
What's a rite?" asked the little prince.
"That's another thing that's been to often neglected," said the fox. "It's the fact that one day is different from the other days, one hour from the other hours. My hunters, for example, have a rite. They dance with the village girls on thursdays. SO Thursday's a wonderful day: I can take a stroll all the way to the vineyards. If the hunters danced whenever they chose, the days would be all just alike, and I'd have no holiday at all.
The Little Prince Antoine de Saint-Exupery translated Richard Howard
FINISHING STRONG Finding the Power to Go the Distance Steve Farrar, Multnomah Books, 1995, ISBN 1576730239
IT STARTS THE MINUTE YOU GET UP IN THE MORNING,
AND DOES NOT STOP UNTIL YOU GET TO THE OFFICE.
"ROBERT FROST"
He wanted to go into the jungle with a group of linguists. They were going to learn the languages of the people, form alphabets teach the people how to read and translate the Bible into those languages. He wanted my blessing on this impossible project. Our conversation went like this:
Mr.Townsend,
who is going to do all this work?José Jiménez Borja
It will be done by trained linguist— young men and women with college degrees who are willing to spend their lives among the indigenous peoples.
This is a difficult task. How many are willing to go?
None yet. But when I go back to the U.S . and challenge them, many will volunteer.
The jungle is impossible. How will you get those people out to the villages?
I plan to use airplanes to land on the rivers and airstrips that can be cleared in the jungle.
How many planes do you have?
None, But when I share the need, God will give us enough planes.
Who will fly these planes?
Hundreds of young people, seasoned pilots and mechanics will volunteer.
How many pilots and mechanics do you now have?
None, but god will send them along.
There is much disease in the jungle how will you stay healthy?
We’ll have clinics staffed by doctor’s and nurses.
How many doctors and nurses do you have?
None, but God will supply them.
Who will finance all this? The U.S. government? A wealthy foundation?
No. I’ll go home and tell the people of the United States about this plan. God will supply. All the workers will raise their own support.
At this I stared at the strange man and told him, When all that comes to pass, come back to me and I will bless you.
He got up, gave me a big hug, and said I’ll be back soon.
“when Mr. Townsend walked out of the door, I turned to my secretary and said, “allá va el gringo más loco que jamás he vito’ ( there goes the craziest gringo I’ve ever seen in my life.)
Reporting on interview between Jiménez Borja an assistant to the Peruvian Minister of Education at the 25 Wycliffe Anniversary and Cameron Townsend
The Legacy of Dietrich Bonhoeffer ‑ Costly Grace
By Charles W. Colson
Half a century ago a young Lutheran pastor named Dietrich Bonhoeffer was involved in a failed plot to assassinate Adolph Hitler‑‑and he was executed by the Nazis for treason.
Astonishingly, not long ago Bonhoeffer's reputation was resurrected when he was officially exonerated by a court in Berlin. Just what did Bonhoeffer do to provoke the ire of the Nazi regime?
In his book The Cost of Discipleship, Bonhoeffer paints a vivid picture of what it was like to be true to the Christian faith under a hostile regime. Under persecution, Bonhoeffer discovered that, even though God's grace is freely given, it also extracts a high cost.
It was costly grace that led Bonhoeffer to return to Germany and suffer with his fellow Germans when he could have stayed safely in America.
It was costly grace that led Bonhoeffer to continue teaching and preaching the Word of God even though the Nazis tried to suppress his work. Costly grace led Bonhoeffer to stand against a turncoat church that mixed Nazi doctrine with Christian truth. Along with other faithful believers, Bonhoeffer signed the Barmen Declaration, which boldly declared their independence from both the state and a co‑opted church.
But even in prison, Bonhoeffer's life shone with divine grace. He comforted other prisoners, who looked upon him as their chaplain. He wrote many moving letters that were later collected into a volume called Letters and Papers from Prison‑‑a book I read during my own stay behind bars, in which I found great strength and encouragement.
On the morning of April 9, 1945‑less than a month before Hitler was defeated‑‑Bonhoeffer knelt and prayed, and then followed his captors to the gallows, where he was hanged as a traitor. Now Bonhoeffer is finally receiving the official recognition to match the spiritual veneration he has inspired in so many believers.
The late British journalist Malcolm Muggeridge wrote a tribute to Bonhoeffer in his book The Third Testament. Muggeridge, writing about World War II said: "Looking back now across the years . . . what lives on is the memory of a man who died, not on behalf of freedom or democracy or a steadily rising gross national product, nor for any of the twentieth century's counterfeit hopes or desires, but on behalf of a cross on which another man died 2,000 years before.
"As on that previous occasion on Golgotha," Muggeridge goes on, "so amidst the rubble of 'liberated' Europe, the only victor is the man who died. As the only hope for the future lies in his triumph over death. There can never be any other victory or any other hope."
The lesson of Bonhoeffer's life and death is that God's grace is never cheap. It demands from us everything‑‑even our lives. But in return it gives us a new life that transcends even the most oppressive political conditions.
Copyright (c) 1999 Prison Fellowship Ministries
"BreakPoint with Chuck Colson" ("BreakPoint") is a daily commentary on news and trends from a Christian perspective. Heard on more than 425 radio stations nationwide, BreakPoint transcripts are also available on the Internet. If you know of others who would enjoy receiving BreakPoint in their E‑mail box each day, tell them they can sign up on our Web site at
Copyright (c) 1999 Prison Fellowship
Ministries. Reprinted with permission.