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798th -- Grace And Style


No matter how many difficulties we are facing, we should have a quiet 
confidence that God is still in control and all things will be well. The
believer is not like other people because we have a hope in One who has 
never failed and never seen defeat. The Lord of Hosts is His name and just
as He has delivered us in the past, the Lord will do it again. We simply
must remain in faith trusting the Lord and knowing that all will be well 
despite how bleak our situation may seem right now. Do not focus with 
your physical eyes, but rather see with your eyes of faith the things that
are not as though they already are. (Psalm 84:11-12) (Romans 4:17)

Faith and expectancy are vital parts of the believer’s arsenal. Just as 
we know the sun will rise in the morning, we should have that same faith 
that God will deliver us and meet our every need. Be encouraged to have a
refreshed outlook on the Lord's sustenance. Remember that God loves you 
and wishes for your best interest. No matter the heartache of today, lift
up your faith to the Lord and let God know that you are trusting Him 
despite what you see and know that All Will Be Well. (Hebrews 11:1-10)

I hope this message reminds you of days gone by that encouraged and 
inspired you to know that despite the difficulties, your answer will come 
and make all things well.


It was noon on a Sunday as I recall, the day a Mustang P-51 was to take to
the air. They said it had flown in during the night from some US airport,
the pilot had been tired.

I marveled at the size of the plane dwarfing the Pipers and Canucks tied 
down by her, it was much larger than in the movies. She glistened in the 
sun like a bulwark of security from days gone by.

The pilot arrived by cab, paid the driver then stepped into the flight 
lounge. He was an older man, his wavy hair was grey and tossed...looked 
like it might have been combed...say, around the turn of the century. His
bomber jacket was checked, creased, and worn, it smelled old and genuine.
Old Glory was prominently sewn to its shoulders. He projected a quiet air
of proficiency and pride devoid of arrogance. He filed a quick flight plan
to Montreal (Expo-67, Air Show) then walked across the tarmac.

After taking several minutes to perform his walk-around check, the pilot 
returned to the flight lounge to ask if anyone would be available to stand
by with fire extinguishers while he “flashed the old bird up...just to be
safe.” Though only 12 at the time, I was allowed to stand by with an 
extinguisher after brief instruction on its use -- “If you see a fire 
point then pull this lever!” I later became a firefighter, but that's 
another story.

The air around the exhaust manifolds shimmered like a mirror from fuel 
fumes as the huge prop started to rotate. One manifold, then another, and
yet another barked -- I stepped back with the others. In moments the 
Packard-built Merlin engine came to life with a thunderous roar, blue 
flames knifed from her manifolds. I looked at the others' faces, there was
no concern. I lowered the bell of my extinguisher. One of the guys 
signaled to walk back to the lounge, we did.

Several minutes later, we could hear the pilot doing his pre flight 
run-up. He'd taxied to the end of runway 19, out of sight. All went quiet
for several seconds, we raced from the lounge to the second story deck to
see if we could catch a glimpse of the P-51 as she started down the 
runway, we could not. There we stood, eyes fixed to a spot half way down 
19. Then a roar ripped across the field, much louder than before, like a 
furious hell spawn set loose---something mighty this way was coming.

“Listen to that thing!” Said the controller. In seconds the Mustang burst
into our line of sight. Its tail was already off and it was moving faster
than anything I'd ever seen by that point on 19. Two thirds the way down 
19 the Mustang was airborne with her gear going up. The prop tips were 
supersonic; we clasped our ears as the Mustang climbed hellish fast into 
the circuit to be eaten up by the dog-day haze.

We stood for a few moments in stunned silence trying to digest what we'd 
just seen. The radio controller rushed by me to the radio. “Kingston radio
calling Mustang?” He looked back to us as he waited for an acknowledgment.
The radio crackled, “Kingston radio, go ahead.” “Roger Mustang. Kingston 
radio would like to advise the circuit is clear for a low level pass.” I 
stood in shock because the controller had, more or less, just asked the 
pilot to return for an impromptu air show!

The controller looked at us. “What?” He asked. “I can't let that guy go 
without asking . . . I couldn't forgive myself!” The radio crackled once 
again, “Kingston radio, do I have permission for a low level pass, east to
west, across the field?” “Roger Mustang, the circuit is clear for an east
to west pass.” “Roger, Kingston radio, we're coming out of 3000 feet, 
stand by.” We rushed back onto the second-story deck, eyes fixed toward 
the eastern haze.

The sound was subtle at first, a high-pitched whine, a muffled screech, a
distant scream. Moments later the P-51 burst through the haze . . . her 
airframe straining against positive Gs and gravity, wing tips spilling 
contrails of condensed air, prop-tips again supersonic as the burnished 
bird blasted across the eastern margin of the field shredding and tearing
the air.

At about 400 Mph and 150 yards from where we stood she passed with an old
American pilot saluting . . . imagine . . . a salute. I felt like 
laughing, I felt like crying. She glistened, she screamed, the building 
shook, my heart pounded . . . then the old pilot pulled her up . . . and 
rolled, and rolled, and rolled out of sight into the broken clouds and 
indelibly into my memory.

I've never wanted to be an American more than on that day. It was a time 
when many nations in the world looked to America as their big brother, a 
steady and even-handed beacon of security who navigated difficult 
political water with grace and style; not unlike the pilot who'd just 
flown into my memory. He was proud, not arrogant, humble, not a braggart,
old and honest projecting an aura of America at its best. That America 
will return one day, I know it will.

Until that time, I'll just send off a story; call it a reciprocal salute,
to the old American pilot who wove a memory for a young Canadian that's 
stayed a lifetime.

By Lea MacDonald

Read and meditate on these scriptures:

Psalm 84:11-12 “For the LORD God is a sun and shield: the LORD will give 
grace and glory: no good thing will He withhold from them that walk 
uprightly. O LORD of hosts, blessed is the man that trusteth in Thee.”

Joshua 1:9 “Have not I commanded thee? Be strong and of a good courage; be
not afraid, neither be thou dismayed: for the LORD thy God is with thee 
whithersoever thou goest.”

Psalm 28:6-8 “Blessed be the LORD, because He hath heard the voice of my 
supplications. The LORD is my strength and my shield; my heart trusted in
Him, and I am helped: therefore my heart greatly rejoiceth; and with my 
song will I praise Him. The LORD is their strength, and He is the saving 
strength of His anointed.”

All of these scriptures can be found in the King James Version Bible.

Today's Selected Poem: YOU STILL HAVE HOPE
Click here to read --- http://www.Godswork.org/enpoem62.htm

Today's Selected Testimony: VICKIE'S WAY TO A NEW LIFE
Click here to read --- http://www.Godswork.org/testimony94.htm

In Christ’s Service,

Dwayne Savaya
God’s Work Ministry


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