Surrender

Each time I read Exodus chapters three and four, I am reminded of the ongoing pattern of the work of God: in response to the cries of His people, God comes to do a mighty work of deliverance—and He did. The plagues of judgment upon Egypt, the dividing of the Red Sea, the giving of His Law, and provision of manna. All of these were mighty miracles that only the God of all power could accomplish.

The book of Exodus ends with the successful completion of Israel’s great wilderness project: the construction of the Tabernacle. And they had done it all just right.

The life and influence of Richard Hester extend from the farmlands of the great American plains, through Muslim neighborhoods in Lebanon, to Arabic refugee immigrant populations in Australia. It is a life dedicated to serving Christ in a ministry that spans more than six decades and three continents.

One of the most satisfying moments in ministry is when we see men and boys called of the Lord to serve full-time. It is wonderful when a man of God has a, “son in the ministry.” In truth it is the natural order of things.

The Bible declares that God made the world out of nothing—He created! He did not make something out of something—He created something out of nothing. “In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth” (Genesis 1:1).

Most of you can remember what life was like in America before what has simply come to be called 9/11. And while we have become accustomed to living under a constant threat of terrorism, our lives are different since that infamous day. Nowhere is this more evident than at an airport.

Over the two million miles I have driven preaching revivals, I could count on one hand the number of times I have had a flat tire—that is, until recently. Over a period of six weeks I was able to practice my tire-changing skills three times! Culprit number one was a nice sharp . . .

Without realizing it, I scheduled myself to be at two churches the same week. I know what your are thinking, and you’re right—I am getting old! Four days before the meetings, I realized . . .