Story by Arthur Maxwell

“I will prevent pests from devouring your crops, and the vines in your fields will not cast their fruit,” says the LORD Almighty,” (Malachi 3:11 NIV).

The tomato plants – twenty-seven acres of them were all coming along well. Already they were covered with blossom, with promise of a very large crop. Looking over the big field, Farmer Jones naturally thought of the harvest, soon to be reaped, and how much he would get for it. “Those tomatoes mean at least $4,000 to me,” he said. “I hope nothing goes wrong with them; they are all I have.”

An Army

But even as he spoke an enemy was on the way. It was an army, not of men, but of worms – small, hungry creatures like caterpillars that move in such large numbers that they are called army worms. They will eat a field clean of every green thing with the speed of locusts.

One morning, as Farmer Jones was walking around his field to see if all was well, he saw the worms in one corner of it, and cold fear seized him. He knew it would be but a matter of days before they had swarmed over all his precious plants and devoured the lot.

He hurried indoors to tell his wife. “Come, look, the army worms are here,” he called. “Our crop is lost.” Mother ran out to see, and her heart sank also, for she, too, knew what it meant. The family’s living was at stake. Food, clothes, home itself – all depend upon that tomato crop, and now the army worms were eating it up.

Then the children ran to look, and they were worried, too, for they had worked long hours helping father to prepare the land, plant the tomatoes, and irrigate them. “What are we going to do?” asked Jamey. “We can never kill them all.”

“No, we can never kill them all,” said father.

“There are too many, and they seem to multiply every minute Father,” said Mary, “we must ask Jesus to help us.”

 “But what can He do for us in trouble like this?”

“But doesn’t it say somewhere in the Bible, Father, ‘I will rebuke the devourer for your sakes’:  Why don’t we claim that promise?” said Mary.

 “Perhaps we should,” said father, “but it’s pretty hopeless, now.”

Rebuke the Devourer

“I am going to look it up in the Bible,” said Mary. And she did. She found it in the book of Malachi, and read it out to the others: “Bring ye all the tithes into the storehouse, that there may be meat in Mine house, and prove Me now herewith, saith the Lord of hosts, if I will not open you the windows of Heaven, and pour you out a blessing, that there shall not be room enough to receive it.

 “And I will rebuke the devourer for your sakes, and he shall not destroy the fruits of your ground; neither shall your vine cast her fruit before the time in the field, saith the Lord of hosts,” (Malachi 3:10, 11).

“There it is, Father,” she said eagerly. “I knew it was there. You see now it says that if we are faithful in paying our tithe to God, then God will ‘rebuke the devourer’ for our sakes. You pay your tithe, Father, so God must do what He says. Maybe He is just waiting for us to ask Him. Why don’t we pray right now?”

Somehow the others caught Mary’s spirit of faith in the heavenly Father. They knelt down in that tomato field and prayed to God as they had never prayed before, claiming His promised protection. Father prayed. Mother prayed. The children prayed. They told God how they had tried to be faithful to Him; how they had paid their tithe honestly to His cause to the best of their knowledge and ability, and how they wanted to serve Him loyally all their days. Then they told Him of the terrible thing that was happening to them, and how much they needed His help. “Fulfill Thy promise, Lord,” they cried. “Rebuke the devourer!”

Then something happened. You may find it difficult to believe, but I know it’s true. I have visited that field, which is less than a hundred miles from my home. I have talked with the farmer and his wife and his children. They saw this miracle with their own eyes and will never forget it.

Hardly had they ceased praying than a blackbird appeared. Then came another, and another, and yet another. Dozens of blackbirds. Scores of blackbirds. Hundreds of blackbirds. The sky was literally black with them. They came and settled on that field and ate up every army worm that was there. They stayed exactly two hours, but when they left, rising up like a black clod and flying away, chattering excitedly to one another, there was not a single army worm to be found on that tomato field. Not a single plant was lost, and the whole crop was gathered in.

So God kept His promise! He even called upon the blackbirds to go to the rescue of His faithful children. Wonderful God. Wonderful Savior. Let us trust Him more.¹

Sources:

1 Maxwell, Arthur S. Uncle Arthur’s Bedtime Stories. Vol. Book 2. Mountain View California: Pacific Association. Print. The Children’s Hour. Print. P 131-134.

Quaker Oats

Story by Cindy R. Chamberlin

In 1881 he bought the “bankrupt Quaker Mill at Ravenna, Ohio, and its most important asset, the brand name – Quaker.”1  Quakerism was synonymous with scrupulous honesty, simplicity of life, purity of character, and dealings of fair trade ─ all of which embodied Crowell who is said never to have compromised principle even when it would have been clearly in his advantage to do so. (The original Quaker Man was a registered trademark emphasizing purity so much it carried a scroll with the word “pure” inscribed upon it.)4 Within ten years, Quaker Oats was a household word to millions.1

    Breakfast Autocrat

Henry Parsons Crowell, (1855–1943) founder of the Quaker Oats Company, called “the autocrat of the breakfast table,” or “the man who invented breakfast,” changed what Americans ate, reinvented the way storekeepers stocked shelves, and revolutionized modern marketing and merchandising methods respected even today.

His father, brothers, and he contracted tuberculosis. Sadly, they died. He lived, but spent seven years under doctor’s orders rebuilding his health outdoors in a moderate climate. He was left with a large inheritance and could easily have had a life of luxury, but instead chose hard work.

A life-changing moment occurred for Crowell when he went and heard Dwight L. Moody speak.  Moody said, “Do you ever think big things for God? The world has Good Businessman yet to see what God can do with and for and through and in a man who is fully and wholly consecrated to Him.”1

This resonated with Crowell and he prayed, “Lord, by your grace and with the help of the Holy Spirit, I’ll be that man!  I can’t be a preacher, but I can be a good businessman. God, if you will let me make money, I will use it in your service.”1  

Without a college education, but showing trade acumen, Crowell strived to be the best possible businessman . Up until this time, American store owners ordered what they thought would sell, from wholesale vendors. Rather than convince storeowners to buy his product, Crowell believed he could go directly to buyers with his product. Whereby, he created his own consumer.  “Advertising to the consumer was considered a crazy idea … even more, no one knew what might happen if someone tried to sell a legitimate product with honest claims.”6   

Crowell saturated the country with Quaker Oats advertising. He ran a train with boxcars covered with the Quaker Oats name from Cedar Rapids, Iowa, to Portland, Oregon.  He “sponsored exhibits at fairs and expositions where salesmen offered and prepared oatmeal and cereal samples in their booths and explained the production process through fancy displays.”2

In the 1800s, shoppers got their food out of bulk bins (like bulk sections). Crowell was the first to product package, wrapping his oats in bright papers, featuring the Quaker Man logo. (The Quaker Man was the first American advertising icon placed on a food product).5  He also introduced the first-ever “trial-size samples.  “The 1/2 oz. Quaker Oats samples were delivered to every mailbox in Portland.”1   These were new concepts and the public loved them.

 Crowell Trust

In 1926 the company purchased Aunt Jemima; in 1961, Life Cereal; in 1963, Cap’n Crunch; in 1965 Quisp Cereal; in 1978 Cinnamon Life; in 1983 Stokely-Van Camp (who owned the Gatorade brand); in 1986 the Golden Grain Company (makers of Rice-A-Roni); and in 1994 the Snapple Beverage Company.  In the 1980s they branched out into Chewy Granola bars. In 1946, 1955, 1958, 1970, 1972, elements of the Quaker Man trademark were redesigned, but for the most part, the company has stayed true to the original image.

            Crowell was a non-denominational Christian, who “made the business a part of his daily prayers.”6  Although he had a “great capacity for creating wealth,”6   he used it solely to advance the kingdom of God. The most recurrent and unified theme summarizing his life is this: “Henry Parsons Crowell, Quaker Oats founder, was one of the wealthiest men of Chicago. When he died, he had given away nearly 70 percent of his earnings for more than 40 years. But Crowell viewed all things as a stewardship from God ─ including influence. Over the years, one businessman after another would comment on how he came to know Christ personally because of the life of integrity lived by Henry Parsons Crowell.”7   

Prior to his death, Crowell chaired the Moody Bible Institute’s Board of Directors. He “set up a wisely administered trust as a vehicle to be used to faithfully serve God’s work in perpetuity.” Today, the Crowell Trust continues his legacy and grants to organizations dedicated to “the teaching and active extension of the doctrines of Evangelical Christianity.”9

            Upon the businessman’s death, it was said: “The world has indeed seen what God can do through a man who is fully and wholly consecrated to HIM.”8

Sources:

1       ^a, b, c, d, e, Unknown. Dr. Tan’s Encyclopedia. Bible Communications. Timeless Truths for Transient Times. Sermon Illustrations. Bible Communications Inc. Web.

2       Welcome to Quaker Oats. Web. 16 June 2011.

3       “Home Cooking and The Quaker Oats Company.” Home Cooking with Brand Name Products of Today and Yesterday -brandnamecooking.com. Web. 16 June 2011.

4       Cooper, William A. The Testimony of Integrity in the Religious Society of Friends. Wallingford, PA: Pendle Hill Publications, 1991. Print.

5       “Who Is the Guy on the Quaker Oats Box?” Straight Dope.com - What’s Your Question? Web. 16 June 2011. <http://Ask.Com>.

6       ^a, b, c, Musser, Joe. The Cereal Tycoon: Henry Parsons Crowell, Founder of the Quaker Oats Co. : a Biography. Chicago: Moody, 1997. Print

7        “Ebookwormy (Chicago, IL)’s Review of Cereal Tycoon: The Biography of Henry Parsons Crowell.” Share Book Recommendations With Your Friends, Join Book Clubs, Answer Trivia. 3 June 2008. Web. 16 June 2011.

8     “Book Review Cereal Tycoon: The Biography of Henry Parson Crowell.” Web. <http://docs.google.com/viewer?a=v&q=cache:PuuXX659wggJ:www.constantiabergchurch.co.za/mpi/Review%2520of%2520biography%2520>.

9     The Crowell Trust. Web. 16 June 2011. <http://www.crowelltrust.org>.

By Catherine Ford, Calgary Herald December 9, 2010

   … When Tiny Tim looks longingly into the window display of toys that are so far beyond his reach both physically and financially, all he can do is hope for a miracle.

We know the rest of the story. We know the miracle did happen and the original Christmas Grinch, Ebenezer Scrooge, saw the error of his miserly ways. Tiny Tim didn’t die. Scrooge became a man much loved in his world. But even before that, Christmas and its spirit thrived in spite of humbugs. It flourished even in the face of the “squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous old sinner,” as Charles Dickens described Scrooge.

In December of 1990, one year before the Calgary Herald started the Christmas Fund, I wrote about the long lineups for food on the streets of Moscow. “Those of us who share a climate with the Russian capital appreciate the exquisite pain of standing in the cold. What must it be like to do so out of necessity?”

It wasn’t the lack of food available to the ordinary people that underscored the want, it was the lack of hard currency. Moscow’s 19th-century farmers’ market on Tsvetnoy Boulevard was bursting with fresh food of every variety. I know. I walked through it, marvelling at the quality and the amount available, so unlike the state stores with their nearly empty, grimy shelves. There was none of that “mystery meat” as we dubbed dinner at our hotel; no boiled-to-extinction vegetables. Just stall after stall of marketable goods, from food to flowers, coffee to chickens, much like the Calgary Farmers’ Market, only in Russian with Cyrillic signs.

But like Tiny Tim, whose parents couldn’t afford store-bought toys, the food was priced out of the reach of the ordinary Russian citizen who was paid in rubles. One kilo of beef was 15 rubles at a time when a Moscow apartment rented for 10 rubles a month and a doctor earned 200.

There are such people in our midst, those for whom hard times are a reality. Today can be seen as a mirror reflection of 1990 — the beginning of the decade that followed the greedy 1980s, a return to reality, a time when few of us were optimistic in the face of a recession.

We’re human, so we forget. When the money rolls in again, a recession becomes just another minor point in our city’s history.

Every recession is different, and so is this one. It’s similar to Leo Tolstoy’s truism which opens his novel, Anna Karenina. … He writes: “Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way,” he is reminding us, in a fashion, that happiness and good times are shared experiences, while unhappiness and recession are individualized.

Christmas really isn’t about how much money one spends, but what one does with it. It’s about remembering the best present one can give herself is the small part each of us plays in ensuring a measure of happiness for others.

This is the best news of all: That by giving to others, we make ourselves happy.

At the very end of A Christmas Carol, Charles Dickens writes about Scrooge: “He became as good a friend, as good a master, and as good a man, as the good old city knew, or any other good old city, town or borough.”

And each year at Christmas, I cherish Scrooge’s sentiment: “His own heart laughed; and that was quite enough for him.”

Catherine Ford is a retired Herald columnist and writes a weekly opinion. © Copyright (c) The Calgary Herald.

And God said, and there was…you! –Cindy R. Chamberlin

Six hours with a 10 year-old chasing…….

Chasing rain petals…

Smell

Smell

Smelling, petals under bright umbrella.

Watching him accidentally…

Accidentally slip…

Slip,

Slipping again in puddle, after puddle

Slipping, while holding his wet little hand…

Each rain drop in my coat is soaked

Day-timer moments

Gone

Gone

Gone, moments gone…but no drop wasted….

–Cindy R. Chamberlin

Flowers–a sign that God is not entirely practical.