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“Where was the Bible before 1611?”
We are doing a paid subscribers only live chat tonight that will help you design memes that are both coherent and accurate. Patreon members only.
Title: “The left can’t meme”
Title: “The left can’t meme”
Forwarded from IFB Sermons
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IFB Independent Fundamental Baptists
Persons Not Fit for Fellowship Pastor James Knox Audio Source
Watch this sermon. Practical scriptural advice on how to interact with real life people. Get off telegram and be and active and PRODUCTIVE member of your local independent fundamental Baptist church. Some of you have never interacted with a real life human being at a bible believing church and it shows in the chats. If this ridiculous app is hindering your real life ministry log out and never log back in.
Years ago I was pastoring in Garland, Texas. I was 26 or 27 years of age. The church had grown rapidly and was running about 1,500 in Sunday School. One Sunday morning I was out front shaking hands with everybody that came in. An old man came through the door. He was close to 90, I think. His hair was as white as freshly fallen snow. His shoulders drooped. If he stood up straight, he couldn’t have been more than 5’4″ tall.
I said, “How do you do, sir. My name is Jack Hyles.” In a squeaky voice he said, “My name is James W. Moore.” I said, “Brother Moore, we’re glad to have you. Where are you from?” He said, “I just moved to the area. I’ve been a preacher up in Iowa for over 50 years. I had a heart attack and the doctor says I won’t live long. I came to Texas because it’s warmer and I have some family here. I’d like to join your church. I won’t cause you no trouble. I’ll be for you. I hear you preach it like it is.”
I bought a platform rocker and put it by the altar next to the wall for Brother Moore. He’d rock while I preached and clap his hands. “Amen! Glory to God! Hallelujah! Praise the Lord!” When I’d preach on dancing or movies or something, he’d shout, “Pull over and park there for a while.” Apart from my pastor J. C. Sizemore and my best friend, Dr. John R. Rice, I’ve never loved a preacher like I loved James W. Moore.
Every Monday morning he’d come by my office at 9 o’clock. He’d walk in my office and pace the floor. He’d say, “Brother Jack, I just came to tell you about a stupid mistake I made when I was a kid preacher…” It was always the same mistake I had made the day before. I’d hug him and thank him for telling me what he had learned. He’d teach me the Bible and talk to me every Monday morning from 9 to 10 o’clock. What a dear, sweet man of God.
One Sunday his chair was empty. For several weeks he was gone. I went to his house and no one answered. I thought maybe he had moved back to Iowa. Late one Sunday night the phone rang. The lady said, “This is the nurse at Spiegel Memorial Hospital. I hate to bother you this late at night, but there’s an old man that was brought in with a heart attack. He has no identification, and nobody knows who he is. He’s about to die. But he keeps saying, ‘Call Brother Jack.’ We knew that you like to be called Brother Jack, so we thought you may know the old man.” I said, “Is he about 5’4″? Is his hair real white?” She said, “Yes.” I said, “Yes, I know him.” I went to the hospital. I hadn’t seen many folks die, so I was all prepared for a solemn ceremony. But Brother Moore wasn’t dying right. He said, “Come on in, Brother Jack. I’m just about to take a trip I’ve been looking forward to for a long time. In just a few minutes I’m going to see Elijah and Moses and Abraham and Paul and John the Baptist and all those fellows. Anything you want me to tell them for you?” Then he said, “Brother Jack, I want you to have a Bible conference. I’m going to Heaven now, but I want to plan it for you.” He chose the speakers. I had the conference after he had gone to Heaven just like he asked.
Then this is what he did. He took the oxygen mask off his face and laid it beside him. He reached his hands out and put them around mine, and said, “Brother Jack, KEEP…PREACHING…IT…!” I heard the rustling of wings as the angels came and took his dear old spirit to the presence of the Saviour. I said, “Oh God, help me to keep preaching it.”
I said, “How do you do, sir. My name is Jack Hyles.” In a squeaky voice he said, “My name is James W. Moore.” I said, “Brother Moore, we’re glad to have you. Where are you from?” He said, “I just moved to the area. I’ve been a preacher up in Iowa for over 50 years. I had a heart attack and the doctor says I won’t live long. I came to Texas because it’s warmer and I have some family here. I’d like to join your church. I won’t cause you no trouble. I’ll be for you. I hear you preach it like it is.”
I bought a platform rocker and put it by the altar next to the wall for Brother Moore. He’d rock while I preached and clap his hands. “Amen! Glory to God! Hallelujah! Praise the Lord!” When I’d preach on dancing or movies or something, he’d shout, “Pull over and park there for a while.” Apart from my pastor J. C. Sizemore and my best friend, Dr. John R. Rice, I’ve never loved a preacher like I loved James W. Moore.
Every Monday morning he’d come by my office at 9 o’clock. He’d walk in my office and pace the floor. He’d say, “Brother Jack, I just came to tell you about a stupid mistake I made when I was a kid preacher…” It was always the same mistake I had made the day before. I’d hug him and thank him for telling me what he had learned. He’d teach me the Bible and talk to me every Monday morning from 9 to 10 o’clock. What a dear, sweet man of God.
One Sunday his chair was empty. For several weeks he was gone. I went to his house and no one answered. I thought maybe he had moved back to Iowa. Late one Sunday night the phone rang. The lady said, “This is the nurse at Spiegel Memorial Hospital. I hate to bother you this late at night, but there’s an old man that was brought in with a heart attack. He has no identification, and nobody knows who he is. He’s about to die. But he keeps saying, ‘Call Brother Jack.’ We knew that you like to be called Brother Jack, so we thought you may know the old man.” I said, “Is he about 5’4″? Is his hair real white?” She said, “Yes.” I said, “Yes, I know him.” I went to the hospital. I hadn’t seen many folks die, so I was all prepared for a solemn ceremony. But Brother Moore wasn’t dying right. He said, “Come on in, Brother Jack. I’m just about to take a trip I’ve been looking forward to for a long time. In just a few minutes I’m going to see Elijah and Moses and Abraham and Paul and John the Baptist and all those fellows. Anything you want me to tell them for you?” Then he said, “Brother Jack, I want you to have a Bible conference. I’m going to Heaven now, but I want to plan it for you.” He chose the speakers. I had the conference after he had gone to Heaven just like he asked.
Then this is what he did. He took the oxygen mask off his face and laid it beside him. He reached his hands out and put them around mine, and said, “Brother Jack, KEEP…PREACHING…IT…!” I heard the rustling of wings as the angels came and took his dear old spirit to the presence of the Saviour. I said, “Oh God, help me to keep preaching it.”
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It’s a slippery slope people
“Thou shalt no more be termed Forsaken; neither shall thy land any more be termed Desolate: but thou shalt be called Hephzibah, and thy land Beulah: for the LORD delighteth in thee, and thy land shall be married.
For as a young man marrieth a virgin, so shall thy sons marry thee: and as the bridegroom rejoiceth over the bride, so shall thy God rejoice over thee.”
Isaiah 62:4-5
For as a young man marrieth a virgin, so shall thy sons marry thee: and as the bridegroom rejoiceth over the bride, so shall thy God rejoice over thee.”
Isaiah 62:4-5
Forwarded from Jag's House of Wews 2
Go to church even if you lost an hour's sleep
IFB Independent Fundamental Baptists
Go to church even if you lost an hour's sleep
Hopefully you’re actually early today
IFB Independent Fundamental Baptists
Totally normal.
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Doctors playing with bodies of murdered children. Even so come Lord Jesus…
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Define Irony: The Church That Preaches on Grace Every Week Doesn't Understand it