At the battle of Inkerman in 1854 a soldier was just able to crawl to his tent after he was struck down. When found, he was lying upon his face, his open Bible before him, his hand glued fast to John 11 by his life-blood which covered it. When his hand was lifted, the letters of the printed page were clearly traced upon it, and with the ever-living promise in and on his hand, they laid him in a soldier’s grave. The words were: “I am the resurrection and the life; he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live.”
A man was once conversing with a Brahmin priest, and he asked: “Could you say, ‘I am the Resurrection and the Life?’”
“Yes,” replied the priest, “I could say that.”
“But could you make any one believe it?”
Christ proved His superiority right there. His character and His actions were back of His words. He exhibited His divine power to silence His enemies.
Source: Moody’s Stories, p. 64
A Hindoo fakir, with matted hair and ash-besmeared body, was sitting under a tree in deep meditation. His eyes fell on the leaves of a torn book which someone had tossed away. It was part of the New Testament. He smoothed out the crumpled pages, and read words which brought strange comfort to his hungry soul.
“The bodily resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead is the crowning proof of Christianity. If the resurrection did not take place, then Chrsitianity is a false religion. If it did take place, then Christ is God and the Christian faith is absolute truth.”—Henry Morris
“Before we can reason the resurrection out of history we must reason Paul and Christianity out of existence. We must admit the miracle or frankly confess that we stand before an inexplicable mystery.”—Dr Philip Schaff
In the city of Hanover is a graveyard which has been closed for a number of years—the Garden Churchyard. Owing to its antiquated monuments and the fact of its being the resting place of a number of celebrated characters, it awakens the liveliest curiosity. A few paces east of the unassuming little church in the graveyard is a monument tottering from its foundation. It is built in the form of steps, and the massive stones are secured by heavy iron clasps. The monument was erected in the year 1782.
The first two Scottish missionaries sent to the New Hebrides Islands were killed and eaten by cannibals on the day they arrived. After that it proved difficult to find missionary volunteers. But even when John G. Paton agreed to go, well-meaning people in the church tried to dissuade him. One elderly man warned that he would be eaten by cannibals.
Five-year-old Brian had a pivotal verse to recite in an Easter program: “He is not here, he is risen” (Luke 24:6). Unfortunately, he could not remember what to say, and the director had to quietly remind him of his line. He then confidently grabbed the microphone and triumphantly shouted, “He’s not here; He’s in prison!”
Source: Mature Living, April, 2011
A bright young girl of fifteen was suddenly cast upon a bed of suffering, completely paralyzed on one side and nearly blind. She heard the family doctor say to her parents as they stood by the bedside: “She has seen her best days, poor child!”
“No, doctor,” she exclaimed, “my best days are yet to come, when I shall see the King in His beauty.”
A little boy and his father were driving down a country road on a beautiful spring afternoon. Suddenly out of nowhere a bumblebee flew in the car window. Since the little boy was deathly allergic to bee stings he became petrified. His father quickly reached out, grabbed the bee, squeezed it in his hand, and then released it. But as soon as he let it go, the young son became frantic once again as it buzzed by the little boy.
When John Quincy Adams was eighty years old, a friend said, “How is John Quincy Adams?”
He replied, “John Quincy Adams himself is very well, thank you; but the house he lives in is sadly dilapidated. It is tottering on its foundations. The walls are badly shattered, and the roof is worn. The building trembles with every wind. And I think that John Quincy Adams will have to move out of it before long. But he himself is very well.”
Source: Sword Scrapbook II, Viola Walden
Some bones from one of Buddha’s fingers were sent as a gift to the emperor of China during the Tang dynasty. They were later forgotten about and then found in 1981. The finding was a sensation to Buddhists everywhere, and the bones are now visited by many Buddhists.
If someone claimed to find a finger that belonged to Christ no Christians would believe him because our faith is founded on the fact that there is no finger to find—Christ rose from the dead.
Source: Rough Guide to China, David Leffman, Simon Lewis, Jeremy Atiyah
On one occasion Michelangelo, the great artist, turned on his fellow artists in a spirit of indignation. He said: “Why do you keep filling gallery after gallery with endless pictures on the one theme of Christ in weakness, Christ on the Cross, and most of all, Christ hanging dead? Why do you concentrate on the passing episode as if it were the last work, as if the curtain dropped on Him with disaster and defeat? That dreadful scene lasted…a few hours. But to the unending eternity, Christ is alive; the stone has been rolled away and He rules and reigns and triumphs!”
A man and his five-year old son were driving past a cemetery and noticed a large pile of dirt next to a freshly dug grave when the little boy said, “Look, Dad, one got out!”
Next time you drive past a cemetery, think of the One Whom the grave could not hold.
In 1799 the armies of Napoleon appeared on the heights above the town of Feldkirch, Austria. It was Easter Day, and the rays of the rising sun glittered on the weapons of the French, as they appeared drawn up on the hills to the west of the town. The Town Council was hastily called together to consult what was to be done.
After much discussion, the dean of the Church rose and said, “My brothers it is Easter Day! We have been reckoning our own strength, and that fails. Let us turn to God. Ring the bells and have service as usual, and leave the matter in God’s hands.”
The British minister, W. E. Sangster, began to lose his voice and mobility in the mid-1950s. He had a disease that caused progressive muscular atrophy. He recognized the end was near, so he threw himself into writing and praying. In the midst of his suffering he pleaded, “Let me stay in the struggle, Lord. I don’t mind if I can no longer be a general, but give me just a regiment to lead.”