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Becoming A Vessel Of Honor Becoming A Vessel Of Honor

Becoming A Vessel Of Honor Order Printed Copy

  • Author: Rebecca Brown
  • Size: 9.39MB | 306 pages
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Inspiring, I was much impacted.

- ellah rupare (6 months ago)

Exceptional piece. Highly recommended!

- siphelele molefe (9 months ago)

Exceptional piece. Highly recommended!

- ignatius terblanche (2 years ago)

About the Book


"Becoming a Vessel of Honor" by Rebecca Brown is a Christian self-help book that guides readers on how to become vessels of honor for God by following biblical principles and living a life of purity and dedication. The book emphasizes the importance of spiritual growth, obedience to God, and walking in righteousness to fulfill God's purpose for our lives. It encourages readers to surrender their lives to God and allow Him to transform them into vessels that bring glory to Him.

Richard Wurmbrand

Richard Wurmbrand Richard Wurmbrand (1909 – 2001) was born in 1909 in Bucharist in the country of Romania. He was the youngest of four boys born in a Jewish family. He lived with his family in Istanbul for a short time. When he was 9, his father died and the Wurmbrands returned to Romania when he was 15. He was sent to study Marxism in Moscow. When he returned, he was already a Comintern Agent. A Comintern Agent was a member of the Communist International Organisation which intended to fight: Like other Romanian Communists, he was arrested and released several times. He married Sabina Oster on 26th October 1936. Wurmbrand and his wife went to live in an isolated village high in the mountains of Romania. But, as a athiest there was no peace to be found in his heart. So one day, when his heart was in a state of turmoil he cried out: “God, if perchance you exist, it is Your duty to reveal yourself to me.” Shorthly after he prayed that prayer, he met a German carpenter in his village who gave him a bible. The carpenter and his wife had been praying earnestly that God would bring a Jew to his village, because the carpenter wanted to bring a Jew to Christ, because Jesus was a Jew. So the carpenter gave him a Bible to read. Wurmbrand said, when he opened that Bible he could not stop weeping. He had read the Bible before but it had meant nothing to him. This time when he opened the Bible he could barely read it because of the copious amount of tears that filled his eyes. Sometime later he found out the carpenter and his wife had been praying earnestly for him. Wurnbrand said that every word that he read were like flames of love burning in his heart. He realized for the first ime in his life that there was a God of love who loved him, even though he had beeen living a bad life and had nurtured a hated towards the concept of a ‘loving’ God. The Power of Intercessory Prayer But now for the first time he knew that Jesus had suffered at the cross of Calvary for his sins and he was loved and accepted of God. Richard and his wife became believers in Jesus the Messiah. All the hatred that he had formerly held toward God was washed away under the blood of Christ and Richard and his wife Sabrina were born of the Spirit. That is the power of intercessory prayer! Richard prepared himself for the ministry. He was ordained as an Anglican minister in 1938 at the start of world war 2. Both Richard and his wife were arrested several times. They were beaten and hauled before a Nazi court. They suffered under the Nazi regime throughout world war 2. But Richard said, it was only a taste of what was to come. Russian Troups Enter Romania Towards the end of world war 2, Richard Wurmbrand became a Lutheran and he pastored a Lutheran church in Romania. But, the same year, 1 million Russian troups entered and occupied the entire territory of Romania. Within a very short space of time the Communists took over Romania. The reign of terror began. Out of fear 4,000 priests, pastors & ministers became Communists overnight. They confessed their allegience and loyalty to the new Communist Government because they all feared for their survival. Romania’s Resistance Harsh persecutions of any enemies of the Communist government started with the Soviet occupation in 1945. The Soviet army behaved as an occupation force (although theoretically it was an ally against Nazi Germany), and could arrest virtually anyone at will. Shortly after Soviet occupation, ethnic Germans (who were Romanian citizens and had been living as a community in Romania for 800 years) were deported to the Donbas coal mines. Despite the King’s protest, who pointed out that this was against international law, an estimated 70,000 men and women were forced to leave their homes, starting in January 1945, before the war had even ended. They were loaded in cattle cars and put to work in the Soviet mines for up to ten years as “reparations”, where about one in five died from disease, accidents and malnutrition. Once the Communist government became more entrenched, the number of arrests increased. All strata of society were involved, but particularly targeted were the pre-war elites, such as intellectuals, clerics, teachers, former politicians (even if they had left-leaning views) and anybody who could potentially form the nucleus of anti-Communist resistance. The existing prisons were filled with political prisoners, and a new system of forced labor camps and prisons was created, modeled after the Soviet Gulag. Some of the most notorious prisons included Sighet, Gherla, Piteşti and Aiud, and forced labor camps were set up at lead mines and in the Danube Delta. Underground Church Richard and his wife knew that Christianity and Communism were totally opposed to each other. They knew that a true follower of Christ cannot compromise. So they created an “Underground Church” movement to preach the pure gospel of Christ and to reach out to the unsaved people of Romania and secondly to reach out secretly to the Russian soldiers. They secretly printed thousands of Bibles and Christian literature and distributed it to the Russian soldiers. Many of the Russian soldiers were convicted and they gave their life to Christ. So the underground church grew. But, in 1948 the Secret Police arrested Wurmbrand and he was placed in solitary confinement for 3 years. He was then transferred to a group cell for the next five years. Whilst in prison he continued to win the other prisoners to Christ. After 8 years in prison he was released and he immediately resumed his work with the undergound church. A few years later, 1959, he was arrested again and was sentenced to 25 years in prison. However, after spending 5 years in prison an organisation called the Christian Alliance negotiated with the Communist Government and they managed to secure his release for a fee of $10,000. They quickly got Richard Wurmbrand out of Romania and took him to England, then to the USA. In 1966, Richard was called to Washington DC to give his testimony before the United States Senate. He took off his shirt to show the Senate the scars and the wounds that he received whilst he served time in prison under the Communist Government in Romania. The newspapers throughout the USA, Europe and Asia carried his story all across the world. Christian leaders called him the “Voice of the Underground Church.” In 1967, with a $100 old typewriter and 500 names and addresses, Richard Wurmbrand published the first issue of THE VOICE OF THE MARTYRS newsletter. This newsletter was dedicated to communicating the testimonies and trails facing our brothers and sisters in restricted nations worldwide. Richard wrote: “The message I bring from the Underground Church is: “Don’t abandon us!” “Don’t forget us!” “Don’t write us off!” “Give us the tools we need! We will pay the price for using them!” “This is the message I have been charged to deliver to the free church.” Richard Wurmbrand and his wife travelled throughout the world to establish a network of over 30 offices. Their primary aim was to call Christians to shoulder their responsibility and to demonstrate the real substance of their faith by supporting their brothers and sisters in Christ who are being persecuted in heathen lands. The VOICE OF THE MARTYRS newsletter continues to inform, and lead to action, Christians throughout the free world of the plight of those who suffer for their faith in Jesus Christ. Throughout their network of offices around the world, the newsletter is published in over 30 different languages. To this cause, VOICE OF THE MARTYRS presses on, serving in nearly 40 countries around the world where our brothers and sisters are systematically persecuted. The writer of the Book of Hebrews brings a convicting word to the Christian church: ” Remember them that are in bonds, as bound with them; and them that suffer adversity, as being yourselves also in the body.” (Hebrews 13:3) We have a responsibility to those who suffer for their faith in Christ. Today, there is an estimated 200 million Christians in heathen nations who are suffering persecution for their faith in Christ.

Are You a Friend to the Poor

God’s heart is for the least of these: the suffering, lost, and lonely. "Do you know the name of a poor person?" a young man in his twenties who was sharing about his experiences as a missionary in Moldova posed the question to me in church. His phrase was tricky because if he'd said, "Do you care about the poor?" I might have tossed it in that drawer where you keep all the stuff you've heard a million times and are supposed to ponder but probably won't do much with. When he asked if I knew the name of a poor person he exposed a glaring gap in my Christianity: Whose name did I know? Not whose face had I passed on 21st Street on my way to grab coffee; not what homeless man had I handed a dollar for the paper he peddles at the stoplight; not what anonymous tsunami victim had received an online donation I'd made. Whose name did I know? I was left to consider this very important question because if I didn't know the name of a poor person, I didn't really know a poor person. (This is one of the biggest problems with going to church — the possibility of getting all convicted and stuff.) I always knew that if God's heart was for anything it was for the least of these: the suffering, sick, needy, uneducated, foreigner, lost, lonely — this much was clear. And it's true that these were people I cared about, prayed for, and on whose behalf I tithed, but how many of them called me friend? Who had my phone number, been to dinner at my house, or sat beside me at church? Without condemnation, I had to recognize that I was someone who cared for the poor mostly from a distance but who had yet to intimately involve herself. My first step: Learn a name. In the Law of Moses God commanded the Israelites to leave their extra sheaves, olives, and grapes for the alien, fatherless, and widow — for all the people who didn't have what the Israelites had and who didn't have the means to get what they had. At the end of this recurring command the Lord gave His people an intriguing reason for why He required this, "Remember that you were slaves in Egypt. That is why I command you to do this" (Deut. 24:22, NIV). Didn't God want them to leave their excess food for the poor and outsider because these people were hungry, because they needed community, because they couldn't provide for themselves, because He loved them? Wasn't that why? Oh I'm sure those were all reasons, but I believe God first had to deal with that sneaky mind-set, the one that tries to trick us into thinking that when we step over a stalk of wheat to leave it for the poor we're doing something really noble, plain over-the-top gracious. That we're going above and beyond by giving away what is rightfully "ours." The Lord was staving off this kind of thinking by saying, "Hold your fancy horses. Remember you used to be slaves too! Don't forget to tap into what that felt like." The Israelites were no strangers to poverty, oppression, or powerlessness as ones who had once been enslaved in Egypt. It was only because of God's deliverance they were now free, only because of His goodness they were blessed with flourishing fields and bursting branches. By remembering their once low estate, they were poised to welcome the foreigner, fatherless, and widow, not out of self-righteousness, guilt, or duty, but out of the love God had shown them. Last night I served dinner to an Iraqi couple and their 2-year-old daughter, a family some of my friends and I have gotten to know. I'd hoped that chicken, broccoli, and couscous were safe selections to serve these well-dressed Middle Easterners, though I sensed I may have been pushing it with the hot apple cider. I was going for the American autumn experience, and judging by their first and only sip, this went over moderately. As we settled around the table I asked them why they'd left Baghdad to come to America. The husband replied, "Because there are less car bombings here," and then he broke out into hysterical laughter. (Safwat's a sanguine.) His wife was less buoyant, confiding that the war had been devastating and that they'd fled here as refugees hoping to find jobs but so far without any success. My eyes welled up as she spoke because her suffering was not that of a nameless Iraqi, but it belonged to her, a real-life woman with a name, Rida. As the adults carried on, Rubaa fingered the icing on her cupcake and tapped her shoes on the hardwood floors, just like any other baby girl in a bright red dress who wanted the room to be enchanted with her — some things are the same everywhere. When it was time for them to leave, Safwat shook my hand, Rubaa blew me a kiss at her mother's urging, and Rida kissed my right cheek, left cheek, and then back to my right cheek again (it's that third one I always forget). As we said our good-byes I realized what a privilege it was to know their names, because knowing their names meant I was getting to know their stories. And knowing their stories reminded me in deeply spiritual and emotional places that I, too, was once a foreigner outside of God's kingdom, but because of Christ, I am now a daughter. Kelly Minter

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