Description
Speaker: Glenn Rawson
Hi, this is Glenn Rawson. One of the most powerful ways to share history and heritage is by the telling of stories. We began sharing inspiring stories nearly 30 years ago. Each of those stories is true and was intended to inspire and strengthen faith. Over the years, those stories have reached millions around the world. This podcast is for you to listen, learn and enjoy.
First Story: The Fire Rainbow 00:33
In all of my sixty-plus years I have never seen this before.
My wife and I were sitting in my second-storey office talking. I was right over there, to my left where I am sitting now and she was sitting right there on the loveseat and we were just chatting about something. It was 1:24 in the afternoon just three minutes from the sun’s meridian. I turned around from talking to Debbie to look out the window to the south and there it was perfectly framed in the trees, in the southern sky. It was a very unique cloud floating across the sky from west to east. The cloud looked like it was on fire with a rainbow of colors. It was beautiful! It was vivid! You can look at the picture I posted on Facebook of it and Debbie posted a bunch aw well. It’s unlike any cloud you will have ever seen. It’s different from an iridescent cloud. This is a fire rainbow. They are two different things. We immediately grabbed our cell phones and began snapping pictures. I ran outside where I could get a shot of it through the trees and capture it even more. The singular vista lasted only a few minutes and then the colors began to fade. I immediately was curious about what we had seen and I went back inside to consult Google and looked it up. This is what I learned.
It has different names. It’s called a fire rainbow or a fire ice halo or more precisely it is called a circum-horizontal arc. It is one of the rarest of atmospheric phenomena. It is not a common sight at all. They occur mostly in the summer months and can only be seen in the middle latitudes, below 55 degrees north and above 55 degrees south. It takes just the right combination of factors to occur: The sun has to be above 58 degrees on the horizon, there has to be the presence of flat hexagonal ice-crystals such as in thin, wispy, cirrus clouds at about 20,000 feet elevation, and the observer has to be in just the right place. In our case, sun to the south, clouds between us, and us at just the right angle to see it. The light enters the vertically-oriented crystals near the top and exits at the bottom refracted or bent. Because our cloud was oriented with the ice plates nearly flat it gave the appearance of a perfect arching rainbow that appeared to be on fire with the red at the top.
I’m not sure what I expected, I suppose I wouldn’t have been surprised to have the entire neighborhood be all a buzz and lit up about the sighting, but we heard nothing—which could mean either no one saw it, or if they did, they did not know the rare significance of what they had seen. Iridescence or color in clouds is a common sight, but a fire rainbow is very rare—more rare, in fact, than an eclipse.
I reflected considerably on what we saw. I don’t know anything about it being a divine sign 9 I know rainbows and sign). Debbie said that there’s literature out there that this is a sign that angels are watching. Maybe that’s the case. But I do know that most of the world missed it. The Lord once chastened His people because they were “walking in darkness at noonday,” meaning they refused to open their eyes and witness for themselves the glorious things the Lord was doing in restoring His Gospel once more to the earth.
Well, the more things change, the more they stay the same. Great and glorious things are happening before our very eyes. Do we see and comprehend them for what they really are? There are signs, wonders and miracles aplenty that we are going to see if we have eyes to see and ears to hear. Next story.
Second Story: Epa Norris/Dr. J. B. Jeter 05:50
There is great power in sacred music when we have the courage and the ability to share it.
In 1923, Dr. J. B. Jeter, in an article entitled ‘Recollections of a Long Life’, told the story of a man he had met clearly back in 1825. The man was a Baptist Deacon named Epa Norris whom he described as, “an eminently conscientious, fervently devout, and demonstrative Christian and Baptist. He said no one could be with him for a few hours without learning something of his religious character and principles.”
Dr. Jeter goes on to tell that during the War of 1812, between the United States and Great Britain, Deacon Norris, “Hearing that the enemy had landed and were marching through the country. He saddled his horse and went forth to make observations and inquiries. He had not gone far when he fell in with a marauding party, and was captured as a supposed Scout, and carried on one of the enemy’s vessels lying in the Chesapeake Bay.”
[That would have been a British ship.] Norris was questioned, but refused to tell them anything saying, “You may kill me, but you cannot make me tell you anything about our army.”
Subsequently, Norris was kept a prisoner aboard the ship. Whether it was by his courage or whatever he made a favorable impression. He was invited to the flagship of the fleet, to dine with the ship’s officers. There were toasts and songs and loud singing and all kinds of things.
At length, Mr. Norris was called on the first song, but he modestly declined. There was a general demonstration of a desire that he should sing, Jeter said.
At length Norris yielded. He had a fine voice and could sing the familiar hymns of the day, in most plaintive tunes.
He struck up a solemn tune the beautiful psalm of Isaac Watts saying,
“Sweet is the work, my God, my King,
To praise thy name, give thanks and sing”
Jeter continued, “The remembrance of his home and family and the pleasant meetings with his brethren, as contrasted with his present captive state, softened his heart and he sung with tearful eyes these words,
Fools never raise their thoughts so high;
Like brutes they live, like brutes they die;
Like grass they flourish, till thy breath
Blast them in everlasting death”
Jeter concluded.
Before the old man had finished his Psalm, all merriment had ceased, and a deep solemnity pervaded the festival party. At the close of the singing the Commodore said, “Mr. Norris, you are a good man, and you shall be sent home.”
“As soon as arrangements could be made, he bade adieu to the officers and was lowered into a boat instead of shore with a liberals supply of salt, then very scarce and very valuable in Northern Neck, Virginia. He soon reached his distressed family, with a bosom swelling with gratitude and delight.”
Maybe what this world needs to hear more of now is you singing sacred music with power and feeling.
Third Story: Isaac Snyder 10:14
A long time ago, back when I was just a young seminary teacher, I spent several months studying humility and the power of being humble. The verse that catalyzed all that was what the Lord said to Thomas B. Marsh:
“Be thou humble and the Lord thy God shall take thee by the hand and give the answers to thy prayers.”
Well, I learned a great deal about humility. But if you want a personification of what it means, well, this is what it means to be humble.
The Isaac Snyder family originally came from Germany at the time of the American Revolution, and they moved to Canada. It is told in family records that Robert, the third son of the family became ill with consumption, which is tuberculosis. He lapsed into a coma, and was not expected to live.
While his father Isaac and younger brother Chester were watching over him, Robert woke up and announced, “…that there was a new church on the earth. It was the true Church of Jesus Christ, that there were two of their missionaries in Ernst town, New York, and they had the power to heal them. One of them was named John E. Page.”
With his father’s blessing, Chester went out to find those missionaries and bring them back. When he entered the town of Ernst, he saw them and recognized them because of the description that his ill brother Robert had given of them.
Chester asked them to come and administer to his brother. The missionaries agreed and together they walked the 20 plus miles back to the Snyder home. When they arrived, they found the family outside weeping. Chester had been too slow. Robert had died.
Not deterred, the missionaries asked permission to go in and give Robert a blessing. They anointed him and blessed him that his spirit would return and that he would live. Not only did Robert revive, but it is said he never had another sick day in his life.
And the missionary who blessed him, John E. Page.
The Isaac Snyder family joined the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, and as so many did in those days, set out in the fall of 1839 to gather with the saints (at that time) in Missouri.
They stopped in LaPorte, Indiana, and spent the winter. One daughter in the family did not join the church with the rest of them. Sixteen year old Jane was known as something of an independent, free thinking, outspoken soul. Well, during that winter in Indiana, Jane became ill with the same disease as it afflicted her brother, tuberculosis. She became so weak that at one point she was paralyzed, and unable to speak, though she was conscious of all that was happening around her.
Her brother, Robert, the one mentioned before, now a member of the church and a devoted and faithful missionary, learned of his sister’s condition, and in the spirit of fasting and prayer came to her. She said, “My brother knelt beside me and against that he wished I was baptized. Then he asked if he could administer oil, and pray for me. I nodded my head, she said. And he prayed to the Lord, that He might suffer affliction for me, if need be, and told him how dutiful and good I was, and that my life could not be spared from the family.”
Jane said, “…while he was praying, light came into my mind, and I saw as plainly as if a book was opened before me with it written in it about my need of baptism. If Christ who was sinless needed to be baptized, should I hold myself as better than he?”
At that moment, she said, “All pain Left me, the paralysis was gone. I was only weak. As my brother rose from his knees, I showed him my restored arm and hand and begged for baptism. He remonstrated, for it was now midwinter and ice would have to be broken and the exposure might be fatal.”
“But death, I was not afraid of, Jane said, Only, I must be baptized. In consequence of my persistence, I was carried to the lake the next day, where ice a foot or two deep had been broken, the people had congregated in great numbers, some had told us that my brother would be arrested, if he should immerse me in the critical situation I was in. However, it was done. And I was well, from that time, my disease was cured. “
“As I came up from the water, Jane said, I addressed the people, although I hadn’t the least expectation of doing so I told them that all this was my own freewill, that I was not constrained to do it, but that I was baptized at my own urgent in treaty and that they must not do any harm to my brother, because he was doing God’s work and God would punish them if they interfered.”
Jane was healed from that point forward. She went on to become the eternal companion of Franklin D. Richards of the Quorum of the 12.
Fourth Story: William Henry Parker/Tell me the Stories of Jesus 16:41
Now, I’ve said it before. And I’ll say it again. Out of small and simple things, great things are brought to pass. Out of our small efforts in a small out of the way place by someone so insignificant as you are me. God can bless people across the globe. May I tell you of one simple Sunday school teacher who has affected the lives of millions.
William Henry Parker was born the son of James and Helen Parker in Basford, England in March 1845. His parents were working class people. Census records show that at the age of 16, William was apprenticed to a blacksmith. And then 10 years later, he became a machine builder in a local lace factory there in England.
Notwithstanding his humble circumstances, William learned to read and write well, in time he married Mary Ann, and they had four children. William became a member of the Chelsea Street Baptist Church in Basford. And in time, he became the superintendent and Secretary of the Baptist Sunday School- a position he held for 35 years. I love this.
William taught Sunday school to the children, and frequently wrote poems and hymns for the young ones. Now, I ask you, how does one volunteer and teach children the gospel for so many years, and not love them and the gospel he teaches? It has been said that one day in about 1885, William was teaching his class and the children suddenly interrupted him, and asked him to tell them another story about Jesus.
The request struck William, our inspiration, William went home and began to write,”
Tell me the stories of Jesus
I love to hear;
Things I would ask him to tell me
If He were here:
Scenes by the wayside,
Tales of the sea,
Stories of Jesus,
Tell them to me.
First let me hear how the children
Stood round his knee,
And I shall fancy his blessing
Resting on me;
Words full of kindness,
Deeds full of grace,
All in the love-light
Of Jesus’ face.
Into the city I’d follow
The children’s band,
Waving a branch of the palm tree
High in my hand;
One of his heralds,
Yes, I would sing
Loudest hosannas,
“Jesus is King!”
From the kind Sunday school teachers, pen flowed six, simple, yet powerful verses, written from the perspective of a child’s earnest seeking to know the Lord. The poem was titled, ‘Tell me the Stories of Jesus’.
In 1904, it was set to music. I love that hymn. But what touched me most about this story is what I’m going to tell you now.
William H. Parker, who taught Sunday school for 35 years, was born in Basford Nottinghamshire in March 1845 and on December 2, 1929 he died and was buried there.
It is said that he never traveled the world. But his humble hymn for children did around the world. For more than 100 years, children and adults have been lifted closer to God by His hymn. You see, William comprehended a priceless principle that every teacher should know ,that to know, love and tell the stories of Jesus is to better know, love and serve the Savior.
Fifth Story: Andrea Richmond/Peaches 21:38
I’ve said it before. We live in a day of miracles, and miracles happen aplenty among those who love him. Just ask Brian and Andrea Richmond who shared this story with me. I was sitting at a fireside Friday night and Andrea told me this story herself and then wrote it down and shared it with me. This is a third person account of the story that Andrea told me.
The COVID 19 pandemic hit Brian and Andrea pretty hard, making them even more dependent on their peach crop. Together, they own a peach farm in Willard, Utah.
Now one evening, this again is in spring of 2020. Andrea was watching the news when they announced that there would be a hard freeze that very night. Andrea’s heart sank. She knew and some of you might know that if the buds on the peach trees freeze, there goes the crop.
Well in an effort to stop that. That night, Andrea’s brother Kelly drove up and down through the orchard running the sprayer in hopes of stirring the air to keep the peach buzz from freezing. All night long, Kelly rode the tractor up and down with the sprayer. In the wee hours of the morning he almost fell off the tractor from absolute exhaustion.
She said having done all that they could, they watched now to see what would happen. Well, there was a brief moment of joy over the next few days when all of the trees blossomed out in full color that was quickly dashed when the blossoms died and fell off the trees.
The only trees that held their blossoms were the 200 or so Rosa peach trees at the top of the orchard. Everything else had been frozen. Only those who have been dependent on a crop or a harvest can appreciate how devastating that would be.
The summer passed and the peaches that survived eventually we’re ready to be picked. Andrea got word, drove up to the farm to load up the picked peaches to sell in their fruit stand in Centerville. She said, “I drove up and saw that Pepe had our picking trailer loaded with 60 half bushel boxes of our Rosa peaches. How do they look, Pepe? I asked before looking in the trailer. Not good, came the reply. They’re wormy.”
I looked in the trailer Andrea said and saw that almost every peach had wormholes. Words cannot express my complete and total disappointment. I have felt like those rows of peaches were miraculously saved from the freeze to help our family a little bit from the devastating financial effects of the pandemic.
I stared at the cases of peaches marked with wormholes. My disappointment she said turned to anger and I assumed that my brother didn’t spray on time, and that the worms were his fault. She said, “I called Kelly and told him that our peaches were worming, and asked if he’d sprayed on time throughout the year. My voice, she said, was harsh and accusing. He assured me that he sprayed spot-on, and that they should look perfect. I assured him that they were full of worms.”
During our conversation, I could hear my brother’s voice almost crack in emotion from his great disappointment regarding the state of our crop. Well, at the end of that conversation, Andrea felt terrible. She called her brother back and again apologized to him. He forgave her immediately and assured her again that the trees had been sprayed perfectly.
Andrea continued, “I sat in my favorite chair in our living room. And slowly my thoughts turned from pondering on our losses, to remembering our great blessings. I thought about my Savior, and how he had healed my two children from cancer. I thought about all the tender mercies of a loving Heavenly Father who had literally poured the blessings upon my family in every way. The spirit filled my soul, and I felt goodness and joy.
The thought came to me, Andrea said that it was okay to ask Heavenly Father to heal our peaches. I wondered if I should ask such a thing. I didn’t want to ask for something that was not the heavenly Father’s will. As I pondered on the matter, the feeling came to me again, that I should ask Heavenly Father to heal our peaches. I knelt by my bed. I told my heavenly father that I was so grateful for all my blessings. I apologize for being so imperfect and for making my brother sad. Through my tears, she said, I thank Heavenly Father for all the goodness in my life. I thanked him for a wonderful husband who was kind and good. I thanked him for my children and for their life and their service to others. I thanked him for my brother who helped us so much on the peach farm. I told Heavenly Father that Kelly had done everything in his power to make our crop perfect, and that he was so sad because of the worms. I paused for a minute to just listen to the Spirit. Then I said, “Heavenly Father, if it be thy will, please heal our peaches.”
Well, the next day, Andrea drove to the farm for another load of peaches. Again, she pulled up and asked Pepe how they looked. And he said, good. They’re good. Andrea looked in the trailer, box after box of peaches. Perfect. There were no wormholes. Andrea said. I turned my head from Pepe so he couldn’t see me cry. And my eyes brimmed over with tears. Our peaches had been healed. I called Kelly and I couldn’t speak from emotion. He asked me if I was okay, because he could tell I was crying. Finally, after a few minutes, I was able to say, Heavenly Father healed our peaches. Kelly immediately became overwhelmed with emotion. He had no doubt that what I had said was true. And according
To me, one of the most powerful things in that story is Andrea’s prayer. Yes, the miracle. But the prayer that brought the miracle.
Prayer is so powerful. But perfect. Prayer is inspired prayer. When God gives us something to say, when we pray to know what God would have us pray, our prayers become more powerful, more perfect. Now our souls become ONE with Him. And we ask for and give gratitude for those things he wants us to say. Andrea, thank you for teaching me.
Sixth Story: Civilla Durfee Martin 29:31
Now forgive me for speaking personally for just a moment but just today, earlier today, I was in deep pain in my soul. It happens every so often when I am just in preparation for the sacrament. Take a very careful look at myself and go oh, what a mess. What a mess.
That pain was so acute and it seems to be the worst on those days when I’m about to do a fireside. I went to church and sat through church just feeling so unworthy. And then something happened after the sacrament, that pain was lifted.
I want you to know that the Atonement of Jesus Christ is real. Thank the Lord for forgiveness.
The scriptures often provide inspiration for the words to many Christian hymns. In Matthew 10:29, through 31, it says,
Are not two sparrows sold for a farthing? and one of them shall not fall on the ground without your Father. But the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear ye not therefore, ye are of more value than many sparrows.
Such was the case for this hymn writer – Civilla Durfee Martin. She was born in Jordan falls, Nova Scotia August 21, 1866. The daughter of James and Irene Holden. As an adult, she earned a living teaching school.
Civilla met and married Walter Stillman Martin, a Baptist minister and traveled with him in church work. However, because of somewhat poor health, she remained at home much of the time. She is credited with writing the words to several 100 hymns and religious songs.
Civilla described the circumstances which prompted her to write the words to a certain hymn. She related the following:
“Early in the spring of 1905, my husband and I were sojourning in Elmira, New York. We contracted a deep friendship for a couple by the name of Mr. and Mrs. Doolittle—true saints of God. Mrs. Doolittle had been bedridden for nigh twenty years. Her husband was an incurable cripple who had to propel himself to and from his business in a wheelchair.
Despite their afflictions, they lived happy Christian lives bringing inspiration and comfort to all who knew them. One day while we were visiting with the Doolittle’s, my husband commented on their bright helpfulness and asked them for the secret of it. Mrs. Doolittle’s reply was simple:
His eye is on this barrel,
and I know he watches me.”
The woman’s simple expression of her faith impressed Civilla, and was the catalyst for the words of the hymn that she went home and wrote. Shortly after writing, she sent the words of the hymn to well known composer Charles H. Gabriel.
In his memoirs, Gabriel wrote, “One evening Walden and despondent, downhearted mood. I was glancing over some song words, none seemed to appeal to me. Presently I remembered having received him in the day’s mail, which I had not as yet looked at,
taking it in from my pocket. It seemed like a voice speaking directly to me as I read, and its melody rang out of the silence into my heart, exactly as it is sung today. I wrote it out. And in a letter to Mr. Alexander the next day, I mailed it to England, where in Albert Hall, the sparrow song was first sung in public.”
Why should I feel discouraged? Why should the shadows come? Why should my heart be lonely and long for heaven and home? When Jesus is my portion? My constant friend is he, his eye is on the sparrow. And I know he watches me. I sing because I’m happy. I sing because I’m free from his eyes. His eye is on the sparrow. And I know he watches me.
Man, we all have the faith and the cheerfulness and the optimism like Mr. And Mrs. Doolittle to carry on and trust that God’s eyes are not just on the sparrow, but also on each of his children, on you.
Thank you for listening. Many of the stories you heard today have been published and are archived at glennrawsonstories.com. If you would like more information you can communicate with us there. We will be back again with another podcast next week.
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