Tough Times Never Last, But Tough People Do Order Printed Copy

Author: Robert H. Schuller
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About the Book

"Tough Times Never Last, But Tough People Do" is a motivational self-help book by Robert H. Schuller that explores the power of resilience and perseverance in overcoming challenges. Schuller shares practical advice and uplifting stories to inspire readers to stay strong during difficult times and emerge stronger on the other side. The book encourages readers to adopt a positive mindset and have faith in their ability to overcome adversity.

Jeanne Guyon

All I had enjoyed before was only a peace, a gift of God, but now I received and possessed the God of peace." It was on July 22, 1680, that Madame Jeanne-Marie Guyon experienced a flood of joy. She believed that God revealed his presence within her and altered her completely. As she described it, "A readiness for doing good was restored to me, greater than ever. It seemed to me all quite free and natural..." In her autobiography she added wryly, "If one may judge of a good by the trouble which precedes it, I leave mine to be judged of by the sorrows I had undergone before my attaining it." This included the deaths of two of her children from smallpox and a wretched marriage. Jeanne-Marie Bouvier was married to Jacques Guyon when she was just sixteen. She had wanted to be a nun, but her parents forbade it. Her twelve years of marriage proved unhappy. Both her husband and mother-in-law harassed her. Consequently, Jeanne-Marie withdrew into prayer. Her husband and mother-in-law did everything in their power to keep her from devotions, even setting one of her own sons as a spy over her; but all they succeeded in doing was to drive her to prayer in the wee hours of the morning when everyone else was asleep. The years of marital misery ended with Jacques' death. At 28, Jeanne-Marie was a widow, free to chart her own course of action. However, she had lost all appetite for spiritual things. She continued to do right, but only from a dreary sense of obligation. It was after several years of this new misery that she experienced God's glorious filling with peace. Now she saw herself as an apostle, bound to share with others the secrets of deeper spiritual life. She became influential at the French court. Her disciples in the palace lived lives of such purity that they stood out in contrast to the greed and sexual debauchery of the majority. Archbishop Fran�ois Fenelon became her close friend. But at court, Madame Guyon's writings came under attack. She asked that they be submitted to the church for examination. Bishop Bossuet condemned them. He demanded that Fenelon do the same. Fenelon refused. He owed much of his own spiritual development to Jeanne's influence. He compiled The Maxims of the Saints, which showed that saints of all eras held views similar to Guyon's. Under pressure from King Louis XIV, the pope censured Fenelon's book. Madame Guyon went to prison. Madame Guyon still divides people. Modern critics say that Jeanne-Marie used self-hypnosis to achieve her "spiritual" states and trances and point out that she used "automatic writing" which suggests spiritualist practice. But among some Protestants in Northern Europe and some Methodists in America, her mysticism is highly regarded. Years later, Madame Guyon insisted that the joy she found on this day still remained with her. "When Jesus Christ, the eternal wisdom, is formed in the soul, after the death of the first Adam, it finds in Him all good things communicated to it.

The Awl

I saw a good Samaritan Slow down and stop. “This is that kind of road; and none Of my sweet business here.” Atop The hill just to the east he saw The restful spires Of Jericho. “There is no law,” He thought, “no statute that requires My bother, let alone the chance Of injury.” But conscience rose and put a glance Of his own son for him to see Before his father-eyes. He crossed The lonely road, And whispered to himself, “The cost Of this assault is not his load Alone. Perhaps his father waits In Jericho.” He knelt. “Such are the fates Samaritans endure.” Then, “No! This is a Jew!” And worse, much worse: The man was dead. “Now what?” he thought. “It is a curse To die and rot without a bed Beneath the ground. And he is young. His father will Be searching soon, perhaps.” He clung To one small metal awl until, In his dead hand, it pierced his skin, As if to say To highway thieves: “Not this, not in My life will this be snatched away.” The good Samaritan put him Upon his beast, And set his face to do the grim, Bleak work of bearing the deceased Up to Jerusalem to find A leather row Where some young tanner had been signed To take a load to Jericho. He stopped at the first shop, “Can you Say if a man Was sent with leather goods down through The road to Jericho?” “I can. But hardly yet a man! In age, Or worth, I think. For all I know, his grief and rage Drove him to steal the lot, and drink His sorry way to Gerasa. His father’s sick With fear. There was a bruhaha The night he left. He tried to stick A man because his mother’s name Was smeared. He slashed Him with a tanner’s awl. He came By here to get his load, and lashed It to his mule and disappeared. His mother died Last year. The old man with the beard, Down at the corner, right hand side, That’s his dad.” “Thank you.” Hesitant, And burdened down With death, he waited at the front, Until the old man, with a frown, Said, “What you got for sale there, sir?” “It’s not for sale, Or trade, or deals. But if it were, You’d pay me anything. This veil Lies on the treasure of your life: Your son. And in His hand, unstolen in the strife. There is an awl thrust through his skin.” The old man lifted up the cloak, And put it back. “I found him on the road.” “Your folk Hate Jews, my friend. And there’s no lack Of corpses on that road. What do You want from me For this?” “I want to know from you About the awl. And I would be Obliged if you would tell me what It means.” “All right. A year ago, tonight, we shut His mother’s eyes. And every light Went out for him. But just before She died, she called Him. It was early, and a score Of birds were singing. So enthralled, She seemed, then said to him, ‘My child, With singing birds, I give you now my awl.’” He smiled, “She always had a way with words.” John Piper