Last weekend we traveled about 5½ hours away from home for a puppet program. As is our usual practice when we travel, we attended the church service with the woman we stayed with. During that service the pastor shared a testimony from one of the church members. As I looked around I could see several people wiping tears during the recount. The pastor started with “I probably will forget some details of this story but I’ll give it a try…” and I feel the same, but I feel this testimony is for you to hear too and I’m sure it won’t be quite the same but I’ll give it a try. The names have been changed to protect my lack of memory.

This woman’s husband, call him Ed for clarity sake, had a serious heart condition that required immediate surgery, but it was so bad that the doctor’s gave him only a half a percent chance of surviving. But even that was better than nothing, so they proceeded with the surgery. This woman gathered her lady friends together to pray for Ed. As the Lord spoke to this woman, He told her that her husband would not die until he had received the Lord into his heart, which at this point he had not done. After the surgery, the doctor told this woman that Ed had died during the surgery, but she would not accept that fact. She told the doctor it wasn’t possible that he died; the Lord said he wouldn’t. But the doctor did his best to try to convince her that indeed it had happened, Ed did not survive the surgery. Then she explained to the doctor about the word from the Lord about her husband, but the doctor unsuccessfully insisted that Ed had indeed died. The doctor left as she still refused to accept the inevitable. A family member that was there with the woman began to make some phone calls to deliver the news about Ed and then the doctor returned. The doctor explained that for some strange reason, which he could not explain, they were somehow able to revive Ed and now he was alive! The faith this woman had, to believe what God had said, and to believe He would do as He promises was evident from the pastor’s recounting the testimony. Even the doctor’s next words to the woman, “Go home now before I become a Christian,” was evident of that.

As it turned out several weeks later, Ed had an opportunity to accept the Lord into his life and began to walk in God’s ways; he lived another four years after that. One day while they were walking through the mall, another couple began to approach them. Ed said to his wife, “I need to speak to that man,” and figuring it was someone from his work, she didn’t question him. She began to speak to the other man’s wife as the two men were talking. Then the other woman noticed that her husband was crying and questioned what was going on. As it turned out, Ed felt a need to speak to this man because the Lord had impressed upon him that this man was going to commit suicide, and sure enough, it was true. The man apparently was going to leave his wife at the mall and was going to kill himself. This man had prayed just that morning that if God was really there He would send someone to stop him.

Although this story is a great witness to God’s miraculous ways of saving us in the last minute, it is more a testimony of obedience. The Lord spoke to this man through Ed’s obedience. It was because Ed was willing to listen and to obey that this man was saved. The reason Ed may have survived that surgery was because God had a greater job in store for him to do and Ed was willing to do it. It could have been the “near death” experience that shook his life and made him realize that there was something missing in it or it could have been the faithful prayers of an obedient wife. All I know is that there was a plan that was bigger than you or I can see. God had work for Ed to do and Ed was willing to do it. When you give your life to God, you give Him opportunity to use you in ways you will never imagine. Being a child of God and listening to the Father’s words is a greater miracle.

When God created man He gave him free will, which is the opportunity to make choices. God didn’t want robots or slaves; He wanted willing vessels. Are you willing to listen? It isn’t “why do things happen the way they do” that we should be asking, but “what can I learn from this situation” or “how can I help someone else through this.”

If you are willing to listen, the first step is to commit you life to God. If you have never given your heart to Him, to trust Him completely, this is your opportunity. Even if you have given your life to Him, you may not spend much time listening. You can refresh that connection to Him. Sometimes I think that we don’t hear about more of these last minute life saving experiences because even though God does try to send people in the last minute, it could be that more aren’t saved because we don’t listen more; because we are too busy to hear Him calling.

The next time you feel a need to call someone on the phone or speak to someone in the mall, don’t brush it off as a silly notion. It might be God speaking to you at the last minute.

For the Christian, our significance ought to be found in our relationship with God. I think that mostly it is something we don’t think about but that we do actively pursue. To feel like we are important is not a bad thing. I think that we are misguided in our finding significance. When we’re kids we want to be the smartest or the one that saves the baseball game with a home run. There’s nothing wrong with these things unless it is where we find significance as a person. If we have to be the best to count as a person we set ourselves up for disappointment. Enough of these disappointments and we start to question our worth as a human being. This self doubt brings on all kinds of unhealthy things such as depression and anger. Let’s look to Jesus our example. Many times Jesus pointed out His relationship with the Father. “I and the Father are one,” Jesus would say. Jesus could have pointed to the feeding of the five thousand or the healing of the sick but He delighted to point to His relationship with the Father. Jesus certainly did many good works but these works were done out of a love relationship with His Father.

Like Jesus we also need to look at who we are as a result of our relationship with God in Jesus the Christ. If we have received Jesus as our Savior we are the children of God. John 1:12 As far as value is concerned we have been bought with a price. That great price is the very blood of Jesus shed for us upon the cross. What about our works then? Oh let us excel in good works. But let us not find our value or our significance in these things. Let us work, let us serve the living God out of grateful hearts. Let us find our significance in our relationship with God.

The first event occurred many years ago, during World War II, when I was an 18 year old United States Marine, awaiting in a Guard Company at Hunter’s Point in San Francisco, to be shipped out to a combat unit somewhere in the Pacific. Often, I found myself walking a lonely post either late at night or in predawn darkness.

I hated these duties; the truth was that I was afraid of the dark, and becoming a Marine had not changed me into the tough, fearless superman that I somehow thought it would. I was still the same 140 pound, five foot nine, scared of the dark kid that I had always been, the only difference being that I was now dressed in a Marine uniform and carrying, slung on my shoulder, a cheaply made submachine gun derisively called a grease gun, that bore, stamped on its barrel, the name of the same manufacturer that had made the BB gun that I had left at home, THE DAISY AIR RIFLE COMPANY.

On the night of this first event, I found myself at 2 AM walking between towering stacks of lumber that created narrow alley like paths between their high walls. The thick, cold bay fog closed in, and the soft moan of a foghorn sounded from the distance. From time to time a full moon would briefly peek out of the high overhead fog.

Something was moving in the fog ahead of me. As it drew closer it took on the form of a large, heavyset man slowly advancing. The night before someone had fired on one of our guards, and an attempt had been made to sabotage a destroyer being repaired to be sent back into combat in the Pacific. Aware of these events, I summoned up my best imitation of a tough Marine’s voice and, still sounding like a scared teenager, called out “Halt!” The form in the darkness kept advancing. “Halt, Halt or I’ll shoot.” The form kept advancing.

As if possessing a mind of its own, the submachine gun slipped from my shoulder and assumed the firing position, aimed directly at the advancing man’s chest, and my hand, as it had been trained to do, began to squeeze with the trigger finger firmly in position. Now, it was as if a millisecond became an eternity and from somewhere far in the distance of my mind I heard the words, “Thou shall not kill.” As if summoned by those words, the entire scene was suddenly bathed in soft white light as the moon came into a clearing in the fog, and I saw the figure of an old man with a wire running from his ear to his shirt pocket. I realized that the old fellow was wearing a hearing aid that he had failed to turn on, and my trigger finger relaxed. He was now no longer a millisecond from death.

I permitted the man to advance and as he came closer I summoned my best Marine Corps voice and said, “Don’t ever walk around here with your hearing aid turned off. I almost shot you.” Apparently he had turned it on, as when he turned to leave he called out, “I’m going now sonny, don’t shoot me.”

A short time later I was shipped out to Guadal Canal and Bougainville. When the war ended my unit was placed on a slow moving LST, Landing Ship Tank, and sent via New Guinea and the Philippines, to North China, where we took part in the repatriation of the Japanese troops in that area while keeping the rail lines open for General Stillwell’s troops coming up from Burma, to oppose the Chinese Communists. In reality it was an opening gun in the Cold War.

When we stopped for two weeks on the Island of Mindanao in the Southern Philippines, I found myself, late one night returning from the bombed out ruins of the town of Zamboango, where I had dodged rocks thrown by the monkeys that clambered over the destroyed buildings.

Foolishly, I had chosen to return alone by way of a jungle trail. As I jogged along the trail, I became aware that someone whose footsteps made no sound was following me. I saw the glow of a lit cigarette and the dim shape of a man who did not respond to my hail. Sensing danger, I increased my speed only to have my pursuer increase his. I maneuvered to the right and the left with my every move being copied. Relief flooded over me as, up ahead in a clearing I saw the familiar gull shape of the wings of our Marine Fighter Planes. There would be a Marine guard. There would be protection. As I jogged in between the planes and saw the cigarette glow fade into the darkness, a soft but commanding voice called, “Halt, don’t move, don’t move.” A Marine guard approached and said, “I had this carbine trained on you temple and the trigger half pulled. This is not my carbine. I drew the wrong carbine tonight for the first time since I’ve been in the Marines. My own carbine has a hair trigger.”

“What saved me?” I asked.

“The Moon came out just as I was about to take up the slack in the trigger and I saw the globe and anchor on your cap. Stay out of this area. The Japs don’t care about the war being over. They are coming in here at night and tossing grenades into the cockpits of these planes. I have orders to shoot to kill.”

Mail had failed to catch up with us for some time while we were in China. I was sent back to the United States before I could learn that my mother had died of cancer, my father had taken his own life, my young first wife had left me, and that my home had been sold. I almost gave in to the feeling that I should start drinking and toss everything, but I was saved by the feeling that God must have had a reason to spare my life.

I survived the war to return, attend college, teach school, and to now be employed as a private tutor to Japanese citizens, the children of Flight Instructors for Japan Air Lines, here in Napa, California, or that I have been happily married for 55 years and am the father of 4 wonderful grown children all of whom are college graduates and involved in socially useful employment, or have a grandson who is describe by his physic professor as the most talented student he has ever encountered, or another grandson who has the skill, intelligence, talent, drive and desire to become a heart surgeon. I survived to tutor the son of a Spanish speaking Farm Laborer who is now attending Stanford on a scholarship, or that Jota Miayzaki, a Japanese boy who was not considered intelligent enough to attend college, was at my insistence given the chance that placed him currently in college in Tokyo.

I am now 76 years old and have lived through two major cancer operations.

Perhaps God still requires my services.

The she also had asked me to write an article for the Mother’s Day issue of “The Well.” I had no trouble writing to honor my Mother’s “well” experience. I knew she was the woman at the well. Yet, I have always known I also was the woman at the well.

One day while I was thinking about when I met Jesus the Living Water I got the chorus for “Changed at the Well.” The woman went to the well at a later time of the day so she would not be around other perfect, honorable women. She planned going there to be alone. It was easier than facing rude people. I have known the feeling of shame. Whe Jesus said to her, “if you ask of me I will give you ‘living water’ and you will never thirst again.” She had no idea what He meant but before the encounter was over she ran to tell her town and many believed because she led them to Jesus.

Scripture also tells of another woman in Luke 7:36-50 which says, “she who has been forgiven much loves much.” That’s me! I have been forgiven for so much. I am blessed to have mercy poured out my way. Jesus was waiting at the well for me in my lonely world. Changed! That is the only word that fits those who have truly been given His living water.

This is why I must sing and be about my Father’s business. He changed my heart. I am now no longer alone. I want everyone to come to “The Well” and see this man who told me all I have ever done yet loved me and wanted me to be a part of His Everlasting Life. I was changed at the well.

Here’s the words for Mary Mohan’s song, which is recorded on “Basking in the Light,” the newest recording of Chalice, a ministry of The Well Ministries. For information on obtaining a copy call 412-664-WELL.

“Changed at the Well”
by Mary E. Mohan

She went to the well, like every day before,
expecting to be alone in her painful world.
But waiting there, Living Water from the Lord.
And she heard a voice, Jesus spoke the Word,
she was changed at the well.

She was changed at the well, completely free at last.
Living Water began to flow, washing away her past.
She was changed at the well. She just had to run and tell,
“Come see the One, who spoke the Word
when I was changed at the well.”

He’s there at the well, like every day before,
waiting for those alone in their painful world.
And waiting there, Living Water from the Lord.
He said, “Come unto Me, I’ll set you free,
O be changed at the well.”

Be changed at the well, completely free at last
Living Waters began to flow, washing away your past.
Be changed at the well. You just have to run and tell.
You can hear His voice as He speaks the Word,
“Be changed at the well.”

I was changed at the well, completely free at last.
Living waters began to flow, washed away my past.
I was changed at the well. I just had to run and tell
that I heard His voice; Jesus spoke the Word
and I was changed at the well.
Yes, I heard His voice; He set me free
and I was changed at the well.

© 2001 Mary E. Mohan Publishing Co.

Panicky thoughts filled my sleep-dazed mind as I grabbed the receiver.

“Hello?”

My heart pounded, I gripped the phone tighter and eyed my husband, who was now turning to face my side of the bed.

“Mama?” I could hardly hear the whisper over the static. But my thoughts immediately went to my daughter. When the desperate sound of a young crying voice became clearer on the line, I grabbed for my husband and squeezed his wrist.

“Mama, I know it’s late. But don’t…don’t say anything, until I finish. And before you ask, yes, I’ve been drinking. I nearly ran off the road a few miles back and…”

I drew in a sharp shallow breath, released my husband and pressed my hand against my forehead. Sleep still fogged my mind, and I attempted to fight back the panic. Something wasn’t right.

“And I got so scared. All I could think about was how it would hurt you if a policeman came to your door and said I’d been killed. I want…to come home. I know running away was wrong. I know you’ve been worried sick. I should have called you days ago, but I was afraid…afraid…”

Sobs of deep-felt emotion flowed from the receiver and poured into my heart.

Immediately I pictured my daughter’s face in my mind and my fogged senses seemed to clear. “I think – ”

“No! Please let me finish! Please!” She pleaded, not so much in anger, but in desperation.

I paused and tried to think what to say. Before I could go on, she continued. “I’m pregnant, Mama. I know I shouldn’t be drinking now…especially now, but I’m scared, Mama. So scared!”

The voice broke again, and I bit into my lip, feeling my own eyes fill with moisture. I looked at my husband who sat silently mouthing, “Who is it?”

I shook my head and when I didn’t answer, he jumped up and left the room, returning seconds later with the portable phone held to his ear. She must have heard the click on the line because she continued, “Are you still there? Please don’t hang up on me! I need you. I feel so alone.”

I clutched the phone and stared at my husband, seeking guidance. “I’m here, I wouldn’t hang up,” I said.

“I should have told you, Mama. I know I should have told you. But when we talk, you just keep telling me what I should do. You read all those pamphlets on how to talk about sex and all, but all you do is talk. You don’t listen to me. You never let me tell you how I feel. It is as if my feelings aren’t important. Because you’re my mother you think you have all the answers. But sometimes I don’t need answers. I just want someone to listen.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat and stared at the how-to-talk-to-your-kids pamphlets scattered on my nightstand. “I’m listening,” I whispered.

“You know, back there on the road, after I got the car under control, I started thinking about the baby and taking care of it. Then I saw this phone booth, and it was as if I could hear you preaching about how people shouldn’t drink and drive. So I called a taxi. I want to come home.”

“That’s good, Honey,” I said, relief filling my chest. My husband came closer, sat down beside me and laced his fingers through mine. I knew from his touch that he thought I was doing and saying the right thing.

“But you know, I think I can drive now.”

“No!” I snapped. My muscles stiffened, and I tightened the clasp on my husband’s hand. “Please, wait for the taxi. Don’t hang up on me until the taxi gets there.”

“I just want to come home, Mama.”

“I know. But do this for your mama. Wait for the taxi, please.”

I listened to the silence in fear. When I didn’t hear her answer, I bit into my lip and closed my eyes. Somehow I had to stop her from driving.

“There’s the taxi, now.”

Only when I heard someone in the background asking about a Yellow Cab did I feel my tension easing.

“I’m coming home, Mama.” There was a click, and the phone went silent.

Moving from the bed, tears forming in my eyes, I walked out into the hall and went to stand in my sixteen-year-old daughter’s room. The dark silence hung thick. My husband came from behind, wrapped his arms around me and rested his chin on the top of my head.

I wiped the tears from my cheeks. “We have to learn to listen,” I said to him.

He pulled me around to face him. “We’ll learn. You’ll see.” Then he took me into his arms, and I buried my head in his shoulder. I let him hold me for several moments, then I pulled back and stared back at the bed. He studied me for a second, then asked, “Do you think she’ll ever know she dialed the wrong number?”

I looked at our sleeping daughter, then back at him. “Maybe it wasn’t such a wrong number.”

“Mom, Dad, what are you doing?” The muffled young voice came from under the covers.

I walked over to my daughter, who now sat up staring into darkness. “We’re practicing,” I answered.

“Practicing what?” she mumbled and laid back on the mattress, her eyes already closed in slumber.

“Listening,” I whispered and brushed a hand over her cheek.

On a Saturday night several weeks ago, this pastor was working late, and decided to call his wife before he left for home. It was about 10:00 PM, but his wife didn’t answer the phone. The pastor let it ring many times. He thought it was odd that she didn’t answer, but decided to wrap up a few things and try again in a few minutes. When he tried again she answered right away. He asked her why she hadn’t answered before, and she said that it hadn’t rung at their house. They brushed it off as a fluke and went on their merry ways.

The following Monday, the pastor received a call at the church office, which was the phone that he’d used that Saturday night. The man that he spoke with wanted to know why he’d called on Saturday night. The pastor couldn’t figure out what the man was talking about. Then the man said, “It rang and rang, but I didn’t answer.” The pastor remembered the mishap and apologized for disturbing him, explaining that he’d intended to call his wife. The man said, “That’s OK. Let me tell you my story. You see, I was planning to commit suicide on Saturday night, but before I did, I prayed, ‘God if you’re there, and you don’t want me to do this, give me a sign now.’ At that point my phone started to ring. I looked at the caller ID, and it said, ‘Almighty God.’ I was afraid to answer!”

The reason why it showed on the man’s caller ID that the call came from “Almighty God” is because the church that the pastor attends is called Almighty God Tabernacle!!

The Greek word for glory is doxa, which has the same connotation as recognition. So giving glory to God is simply but profoundly recognizing Him for who He is and allowing Him to be recognized in and through us.

Now this statement was so simple, but yet, for me, so profound. Maybe you have grasped the realization of giving Him glory, but for me, I had some understanding, but reading this has caused a deeper understanding. It has caused a light to go off and become the light to my pathway of getting closer to Him. Let me show you where it has taken me.

In Joshua 7:19 it says, “now Joshua said to Achan, ‘my son I beg you, give glory to the Lord God of Israel and make confession to him and tell me now what you have done, do not hide it from me.’” Joshua is telling him to recognize God. Recognize it is God and not those in the camp that he has sinned against. Achan disobeyed God’s orders when they defeated the city of Jericho they were instructed to take nothing. Achan disobeyed God’s orders and took of the accursed thing and hid it amongst his stuff. When I confess my sin and ask for forgiveness I give Him the glory, for I recognize that it is God whom I have sinned against.

Let’s look in first Samuel and see what happen when the Philistines took the Ark of the Lord. They stole the Ark of the Lord and tried to put it among their gods. Read I Samuel and see what happened. But what we want to look at today is chapter 6 where we find the Philistines are suffering because they have taken what does not belong to them. Some of them have died and those that have not died have been stricken with tumors. They now begin to cry out to the priest and ask how shall we send back the Ark? The priest instructs them not to send it back empty but fill it with a trespass offering and maybe God will heal them.

In verse five of chapter six, the Philistines are told, “therefore you shall make images of your tumors and of your rats that ravage the land, and you shall give glory to the God of Israel………..” In other words you will recognize that God is superior to any of your gods.

We give God glory when we recognize Him as the author of the miracles that occur in our lives. They may have come through the hand of a doctor, through medication and through the laying on of hands. But the glory belongs to God. The recognition for the miracle belongs to God.

In John 9:24 the young man that was blind and has been healed by Jesus is being questioned by the Jews in the synagogue as to who has performed this healing. “So they again called the man who was blind and said to him give God the glory. We know this man is a sinner.” They were telling him to recognize God as the healer not this man (Jesus) who they called a sinner. Oh how foolish and deceived they were, not knowing that this man, as they called him was God in the flesh.

You say so what are you saying preacher? I’m saying giving God the glory is not just done in the sanctuary with hands lifted up and a sweet expression on our face, as we sing and tell Him how much we love Him. But giving Him the glory is when we walk in obedience to his commands, it is when we stand tall and no matter what someone may think we acknowledge God as the only true and living God. Giving Him the glory is when we recognize without God there are no miracles; there is no healing.

But most important we give God glory when He is recognized in our lives. Jesus said in John 15:8, “by this is my Father glorified (or recognized) that you bear much fruit: so you will be my disciples.” When we walk up right before men and obey the word of God, and treat our fellow man right, love our neighbor as ourself God is given glory, because those who knew us before salvation can say look what the Lord has done.

Is God getting any glory out of your life? Can He be recognized without you telling someone or without you carrying a big bible and wearing a big cross? Give Him glory.

God bless.

The Well has been running a little dry lately; but we are now trying to regroup and reorganize the ministry and get the production of this publication back on track. At our last board meeting we discussed some options for the ministry. We have realistically planned to print at least four issues this year, and hopefully more.

This is the first issue since September 2001. We all know the events of 9/11 and how it changed our country, our homes, and our lives . . . it also had some major effects on the finances of many non-profit organizations. I must say that the events of 9/11 did not effect our ministry’s finances in a negative way. But the truth is that during that time there just wasn’t enough money coming in to meet our expenses and Castle Printing could not donate the printing. This ministry has operated in the red since it was started and it’s only by the grace of God that it is still in existence. Sure, our finances last year have increased. In fact we almost doubled the income from the previous year. But to meet our absolute bare minimum expenses we need to bring in about $3,000 each month and this past year we only brought in an average of a little over $1,000 each month from The Well donations and Puppets/Singing Programs.

We have tried to sell some advertising spaces in the past issues to help raise funds but that still has not been enough to meet the expenses. I greatly appreciate those local businesses who believe in our ministry enough to help support us each month and I must apologize to those of you who are reading this booklet outside of our area and who do not have a need for these local businesses, but remember, most of the copies remain in this local area.

As we have said many times before, if even half of the people who read this publication would give just $1.00 each month we’d have enough to meet our bare minimum expenses. We do understand that some people cannot give and some can give more so it balances out in the end.

If you are one who cannot give monthly, that’s OK. Please continue to pray for our ministry that the finances would be met. And if you can give, won’t you consider pledging to give an amount each month.

There is a pledge card at the bottom of this page. Prayerfully consider if you should help this ministry with a one time or monthly donation. And whether you are able to give or not, you will still receive “The Well” in the mail if you have sent for a subscription. No one is ever removed from the mailing list for not giving.

This brings me to another question from some readers. “When will I know that my subscription has expired or when I need to send more money to renew a subscription?”

We do not send renewal notices to anyone because the money received for subscriptions is by donation. Around the beginning of each year we send statements with a list of the amount(s) given for the previous year. After reading if and when you sent a donation and how much it was, you may feel you should send more to continue your subscription. That is up to you. We will NOT remove your name from the mailing list because you haven’t sent any money.

We are in the process of being able to accept credit card payments, which will be able to be automatically deducted each year. But in order to use this system you must have access to the internet.

Keep looking in the coming months for more improvements to the ministry’s operations.

Until next time,
Blessings!
Kris