*What is Maturity of Mind ? *

1. Correcting ourselves without trying to correct others.

.

2. Accepting others with their short comings.



3. Understanding the opinions of others from their perspectives.



4. Learning to leave what are to be avoided.



5. Leaving the expectations from others.



6. Doing whatever we do with peace of mind.



7. Avoiding to prove our intelligence on others.



8. Avoiding the status that others should accept our actions.


9. Avoiding the comparisons of ourselves with others.


10. Trying to keep our peace in our mind
      without worrying for anything.


11. Understanding the difference between the basic needs
      and what we want.


12. Reaching the status that happiness is not connected
      with material things.


*Our life will be simple if only we practice.

Answered prayer - Heart touching story 💙💚💛💜💗

I wept when I read this. God is great!
I found it so touching 
Isaiah 65:24 :- “Before they call, I will answer.” 

This is a testimony written  by a doctor who worked in Africa. 

One night I had worked hard to help a mother in the labor ward; but in spite of all we could do, she died, leaving us with a tiny, premature baby and a crying two-year-old daughter. We would have difficulty keeping the baby alive; as we had no incubator (we had no electricity to run an incubator). We also had no special feeding facilities. 

Although we lived on the equator, nights were often chilly with treacherous drafts. One student midwife went for the box we had for such babies and the cotton wool that the baby would be wrapped in.   
    
Another went to stoke up the fire and fill a hot water bottle. She came back shortly in distress to tell me that in filling the bottle, it had burst (rubber perishes easily in tropical climates).  “And it is our last hot water  bottle!” she exclaimed. As in the West, it is no good crying over spilled milk, so in Central Africa it might be considered no good crying over burst water bottles.  They do not grow on trees, and there are no drugstores down forest pathways. 

“All right,”  I said,  “put the baby as near the fire as you safely can, and sleep between the baby and the door to keep it free from drafts. Your job is to keep the baby warm.” 

The following noon, as I did most days, I went to have prayers with any of the orphanage children who chose to gather with me. I gave the youngsters various suggestions of things to pray about and told them about the tiny baby. I explained our problem about keeping the baby warm enough, mentioning the hot water bottle, and that the baby could so easily die if it got chills. I also told them of the two-year-old sister, crying because her mother had died. 

During prayer time, one ten -year-old  girl, Ruth, prayed with the usual blunt conciseness of our African children.  “Please, God” she prayed, “Send us a hot water bottle today.  It'll be no good tomorrow, God, as the baby will be dead, so please send it this afternoon.” 

While I gasped inwardly at the audacity of the prayer, she added, “And while You are about it, would You please send a dolly for the little girl so she'll know You really love her?” 

As often with children's prayers, I was put on the spot. Could I honestly say “Amen?” I just did not believe that God could do this. 

Oh, yes, I know that He can do everything; the Bible says so. But there are limits, aren't there? The only way God could answer this particular prayer would be by sending me a parcel from the homeland. I had been in Africa for almost four years at that time, and I had never, ever, received a parcel from home.  Anyway, if anyone did send me a parcel, who would put  in a hot water bottle? I lived on the equator! 

Halfway through the afternoon, while I was teaching in the nurses' training school, a message was sent that there was a car at my front door. By the time I reached home, the car had gone, but there on the verandah was a large 22-pound parcel. I felt tears pricking my eyes. I could not open the parcel alone, so I sent for the orphanage children. Together we pulled off the string, carefully undoing each knot. We folded the paper, taking care not to tear it unduly.  Excitement was mounting. Some thirty or forty pairs of eyes were focused on the large cardboard box. From the top, I lifted out brightly-colored, knitted jerseys. Eyes sparkled as I gave them out. Then there were the knitted bandages for the leprosy patients, and the children looked a little bored. Then came a box of mixed raisins and sultanas - that would make a batch of buns for the weekend. 

Then, as I put my hand in again, I  felt the.....could it really be? 

I grasped it and pulled it out. Yes, a brand new, rubber hot water bottle. I cried.  I had not asked God to send it; I had not truly believed that He could. 

Ruth was in the front row of the children. She rushed forward, crying out, “If God has sent the bottle, He must have sent the dolly, too!” 

Rummaging down to the bottom of the box, she pulled out the small, beautifully-dressed dolly. Her eyes shone! She had never doubted!  Looking up at me, she asked, “Can I go over with you and give this dolly to that little girl, so she'll know that Jesus really loves her?” 

“Of course,” I replied! 

That parcel had been on the way for five whole months, packed up by my former Sunday school class, whose leader had heard and obeyed God's prompting to send a hot water bottle, even to the equator. 

And one of the girls had put in a dolly for an African child - five months before, in answer to the believing prayer of a ten-year-old to bring it “that afternoon.” 

“Before they call, I will answer.” (Isaiah 65:24) 

When you receive this, say a prayer. That's all I ask. No strings attached. Then just send it on to whomever you want to – but do send it on.
  Prayer is one of the best free gifts we receive. There is no cost, but a lot of rewards. Let's continue praying for one another

The Indian Army...!!

MUST READ - THE INDIAN ARMY FAMILY

When I met her, I was curious to know the story behind the uniform and that day she told - 
I was 19 when I got married to Captain Shafeeq Ghori in 1991. It was difficult in the beginning to accept the fact that he was constantly on the move and had to leave me alone for long periods, but he sat me down and explained what it was like to be an army wife. There were no mobile phones back then. I used to spend hours by the phone unsure when he would call. We used to write letters, and my husband made sure I received one letter every day for the days he was away from me. I used to write small notes and hide small surprises in his luggage.
In the years that followed, he had many high-risk postings. Back then, Punjab and the East were all dangerous places to be. He has been to Tripura, Punjab, and Srinagar. He used to be gone for days, but by then I had become strong and learnt to fend for myself and our children. I knew he loved the country the most and his kids and wife came a close second.

In 1999, he had a field posting in Srinagar, since it was a high-risk area family weren't allowed, I moved to Bangalore. June 28th, 2001, we spoke for the last time. He asked about our wellbeing, told that he was in the jungles for a military operation. He wanted to speak to the kids, but they were running around with their cousins, and there was a lot of chaos and noise. I told him to come back to his base and speak to them. I still regret that decision.

On July 1st, 2001. Around 6.30 pm, a group of army officers along with their wives came home. Suddenly, a lady made me sit down and told me. “Major Ghori is no more,” she said. I thought I heard it wrong. It had to be a mistake. She said they had been trying to reach me since morning but couldn’t as I was at my mother’s house and the phone lines were disconnected. Major Shafeeq Ghori was martyred in a heroic gun battle with militants during Operation Rakshak. Everything around me fell, crumbled. That day was the day I received my final letter from him.

The next day, I went to the airport to receive him for the last time.This time in a box clad in Indian Flag. I broke down. He would always ask me to be strong. He reminded me even on that last day we spoke, but I never imagined a day when he wouldn’t be around.

I got his uniform and civil clothes in a box. I did not wash them for eight years because I did not want to let that feeling go. His money is still in his wallet. The letters are still a part of my reading. I have played the role of a father and mother, but there were times when I used to fight back a tear seeing other kids play with their parents. Today, I work for the welfare of the army martyr families and women empowerment of the martyr widows in Karnataka.

I was 29 when Major Shafeeq Ghori was martyred. People told me to move on.. but He was, is, and will always be my Forever.

Salma Shafeeq Ghori. 
A wife.

--Article from newspaper--

Encouraging soldier's story

I NEVER GET TIRED OF READING THIS STORY...

During World War 2, a soldier was separated from his unit on an island.

The fighting had been intense, and in the smoke and the crossfire he had lost touch with his comrades.

Alone in the jungle, he could hear enemy soldiers coming in his direction.
Scrambling for cover, he found his way up a high ridge to several small caves in the rock. Quickly he crawled inside one of the caves.
Although safe for the moment, he realised that once the enemy soldiers looking for him swept up the ridge, they would quickly search all the caves and he would be killed.

As he waited, he prayed, "Lord, please spare my life. Whatever will happen, I love you and trust you. Amen."
After praying, he lay quietly listening to the enemy begin to draw close.
He thought, "Well, I guess the Lord isn't going to help me out of this one."
Then he saw a spider begin to build a web over the front of his cave.

"Hah" he thought, "What I need is a brick wall and what the Lord has sent me is a spider web. God does have a sense of humour."
As the enemy drew closer he watched from the darkness of his hide out and could see them searching one cave after another.
As they came to his, he got ready to make his last stand, but then he heard the leader of the soldiers say:
"you may as well ignore looking in this cave ...if he had entered here this web would be broken!" So they left and he was delivered!
To his amazement, however, after glancing in the direction of his cave, they moved on.
Suddenly he realised that with the spider web over the entrance, his cave looked as if no one had entered for quite a while.

"Lord, forgive me," he prayed. "I had forgotten that in you a spider's web is stronger than a brick wall. He will use the most foolish things in this world to confound the wise!
God is your protector, if you believe in him. Bless someone with this story.

The Christian drummer boy - Amazing story

*#voice_of_revival_broadcast*

#tribute_to_Charlie
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🥁 THE CHRISTIAN DRUMMER BOY❣

The following story is a true acount, taking from an old, out-of-Print book called "Touching incidents and Remarkable Answers to Prayer". It was compiled by S. B. Shaw and published in 1894.

I was a surgeon in the United States Army during the Civil War. After the battle of Gethysburg, there were hundreds of wounded soldiers in my hospital. Many were wounded so severely that a leg or an arm, or sometimes both, needed to be amputated.

One of these was a boy who had only been in the service for 3 months. Since he was too young to be soldier, he had enlisted as a drummer. When my assistant came to give him chloroform before the amputation he turned his head and refused it. When they told him that it was the doctor's orders, he said, 'send the doctor to me'. I came to his bedside and said 'young man, why do you refuse chloroform? When I found you on the battle field, you were so far gone that I almost didn't border to pick you up. But when you opened those large blue eyes, it occurred to me that you had a mother somewhere who might be thinking of you at that very moment. I didn't want you to die on the field so I had you brought here. But you've lost so much blood that you're just too weak to live through an operation without chloroform. You'd better let me give you some.'

He laid his hand on mine, looked me in the face and said, 'Doctor, one Sunday afternoon, when I was 9 and a half years old I gave my heart to Christ. I learned to trust him then, and I've been trusting him ever since. I know I can trust in Him now. He is my strength. He will support me while you amputate my arm and leg'. I asked him if he will at least let me give him a little brandy. Again he looked at me and said 'Doctor, When I was about 5 years old, my mother knelt by my side with her arms around me and said: "Charlie I am praying to Jesus that you will never take even one drink of alcohol. Your father died a drunkard, and I've asked God to use you to warn people against the dangers of drinking and to encourage them to love and serve the Lord". 
I am now  17 years old and I have never had anything stronger than tea or coffee. There is a very good chance that I am about to die and to go into the presence of my God. Would you send me there with brandy in my breath?' 

I will never forget the look that boy gave me. At that time I hated Jesus, but I respected that boy's loyalty to his Savior.  And when I saw how he loved and trusted him to the very end, something deeply touched my heart. I did for that boy what I have never done for any other soldier. I asked him if he wanted to see his chaplain.

Champlain R. knew the boy well from having seen him frequently at the tent of prayer meetings. Taking his hand, he said 'Charlie, I'm really sorry to see you like this'. 'Oh, I'm all right, Sir,' Charlie answered. The doctor offered me chloroform, but I told him I didn't want any. Then he wanted to give me brandy, which I didn't want either. So now, if my Savior calls me, I can go to him in my right mind.'

 'You might not die Charlie,' said the chaplain, but if the Lord does call you home, is there anything I can do for you after you're gone?' 'Chaplain please reach under my pillow and take my little Bible. My mother's address is inside. Please send it to her, and write a letter for me. Tell her that since I left home, I have never let a single day pass, no matter if we were on the March, or the battle-field, or in the hospital without reading a portion of God's word, and daily praying that He (God) would bless her."

'Is there anything else I can do for you, my lad?' asked the Chaplain. Yes please write a letter to the Sunday School teacher of the Sands Street Church in Brooklyn, New York. Tell him that I've never forgotten his encouragement, good advice, and many prayers for me. They have helped and comforted me through all the dangers of battle. And now, in my dying hour, I thank the Lord for my dear old teacher, and asked him to bless and strengthen him. That is all'.

Then turning to me, he said, 'I'm ready doctor. I promise I won't even groan while you take off my arm and leg, if you don't offer me chloroform'. I promised but didn't have the courage to take the knife in my hand without first going into the next room and taking a little brandy myself.

While cutting through the flesh, Charlie Coulson never groaned. But when I took the saw to separate the bone, the lad took the corner of his pillow in his mouth, and all I could hear him whisper was, 'O Jesus, blessed Jesus! Stand by me now.' He kept his promise. He never groaned.

I could not sleep that night.  Whichever way I tossed and turned 'Blessed Jesus stand by me now' kept ringing in my ears. a little after midnight, I finally left my bed and visited the hospital a thing I had never done before unless there was an emergency. I had such a strange and strong desire to see that boy. When I got there, an orderly told me that 16 of the badly wounded soldiers had died. Was Charlie Coulson one of them?' I asked. 'No Sir', he answered. 'He's sleeping as sweetly as a babe.'

When I came to his bed, one of the nurses said that about 9 o'clock two members of the Y.M.C.A came through the hospital to read and sing a hymn. Chaplain R. was with them, and he knelt by Charlie's bed and offered up a fervent and soul's stirring prayer. Then, while still on their knees, they sang one of the sweetest of all hymns, 'Jesus lover of my soul'. Charlie sang along with them too. I couldn't understand how that boy, who was in such horrible pain, could sing.

Five days after I performed the operation, Charlie sent for me, and it was from him that I heard my first gospel sermon. 'Doctor', he said, my time has come. I don't expect to see another sunrise. I want to thank you with all my heart for your kindness to me. I know you are Jewish and that you don't believe in Jesus, but I want you to stay with me and see me die trusting my Savior to the very last moment of my life.' I tried to stay, but I just couldn't. I didn't have the courage to stand and see a Christian boy die rejoicing in the love of that Jesus who I hated. So, I huridly left the room.

 About 20 minutes later an orderly came and found me sitting in my office with my hands covering my face. He told me that Charlie wanted to see me. 'I've just seen him', I answered 'and I can't see him again.' 'But doctor, he says he must see you once more before he dies.' so I made up my mind to go and see Charlie, say an endearing word, and let him die. However, I was determind that nothing he could say would influence me in the least bit, so far as his Jesus was concerned.

When I entered the hospital, I saw he was sinking fast so I sat down by his bed. Asking me to take his hand, he said, "Doctor, I love you because you are a Jew.' The best friend I have found in this world was a Jew.' I asked him who that was and he answered, 'Jesus Christ and I want to introduce you to him before I die. will you promise me? Doctor, What I'm about to say to you, you will never forget?' I promised, and he said 5 days ago while you amputated my arm and leg, I prayed  to the Lord Jesus Christ, and asked him to make His love known to you.'

Those words went deep into my heart. I couldn't understand how, when I was causing him the most intense pain, he could forget all about himself and think of nothing but his Savior and my unconverted soul. All I could say to him, was, 'Well, my dear boy you will soon be alright'. With these words I left him, and 12 minutes later he fell asleep, 'safe in the arms of Jesus'.

Hundreds of soldiers died in my hospital during the war, but I only followed one to the grave, and that was Charlie Coulson. I rode 3 miles to see him buried. I had him dressed in a new uniform and placed in an officer's coffin, with a United State's flag over it.

That boy's dying words made a deep impression upon me. I was rich at that time so far as money was concerned, but I would have given every penny I possess if I could have felt towards Christ as Charlie did. That feeling cannot be bought with money. Alas, I soon forgot all about my Christian soldier's little sermon, but i could not forget the boy himself. Looking back I now know that I was under deep conviction of sin at that time. But for nearly 10 years I fought against Christ with the hatred I had, until finally the boy's prayer was answered and I surrendered my life to the love of Jesus.

About a year and a half after my conversion, I went to a prayer meeting one evening in Brooklyn. It was one of those meetings where Christians testify about the loving kindness of God. After several had spoken, an elderly lady stood up and said, 'Dear friends, this may be the last time I have a chance to publicly share how good the Lord has been to me. My doctor told me yesterday my right lung is nearly gone, and my left lung is failing fast, so at the best I only have a short time to be with you. But what is left of me belongs to Jesus. It's a great joy to know that I shall soon meet my son with Jesus in heaven.

Charlie was not only a soldier for his country, but also a soldier for Christ. He was wounded at the battle of Gettysburg, and was cared for by a Jewish doctor, who amputated his arm and leg. He died 5 days after the operation. The chaplain of the regiment wrote me a lettter and sent me my boys Bible. I was told that in his dying hour, my Charlie sent for that Jewish doctor, and said to him 'doctor, before i die, i wish to tell you that five days ago, while you amputated my arm and leg, I prayed to the Lord Jesus Christ for you'.

As I heard this lady speak, I just couldn't sit still, I left my seat, ran accros the room, and taking her hand said, God bless you my dear sister. Your boy's prayer has been heard and answered! I am the jewish doctor that Charlie prayed for, and his Saviour is now my Saviour!
 *The love of Jesus has won my soul!'*
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