Pugh Proverbs

By Dwane Pugh

Wisdom is a rare treasure that people need but seldom ever find. In these simple yet profound proverbs, you will find nuggets of golden truth that can enrich your life and make it a treasure map for others to follow.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Jan 15, 2022
• ISBN: 9781638746218

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Pugh Proverbs

Dwane Pugh

Copyright © 2021 by Dwane Pugh

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.

832 Park Avenue

Meadville, PA 16335

www.christianfaithpublishing.com

Printed in the United States of America

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To the glory of God,

with thanksgiving for the people who have helped make this book possible

1

Pugh proverb: Faith is tapping into the sovereignty of God and living it in the moment.

Scripture verses: Hebrews 11:1–40; James 2:14-26; Matthew 17:20; 1 Peter 1:7; Proverbs 3:5, 6

Have you ever seen a miracle? Maybe you don’t believe in miracles. If you have never seen one, I can understand how you might come to the conclusion they don’t exist. However, my life has been filled with so many miracles, I would be a fool not to acknowledge their existence.

As a child, I had always wanted to see a miracle with my own two eyes. I remember sitting on my mother’s lap at bedtime as she read Bible stories to me. My eyes would widen, glistening with excitement as she told of the great exploits of the heroes of the Bible. My mother had a way of telling the stories that made me feel as if I was right there beside the characters as they stood for God in the face of impossible situations. Through my vivid imagination, I had been with David as he faced Goliath, and I climbed Mt. Sinai with Moses to behold the glory of God, talking with Him as friend with friend.

I also saw Jesus heal the sick, raise the dead, and preach the good news of the kingdom to those held captive by sin. My eyes would grow heavy, and I would lay down with Daniel on the soft fur of a lion and fall fast asleep. Little did I know that God had planned in my future a miracle of my own.

It was the summer of 1987. I, along with a group of four adults and nine teenagers, was going to visit one of our missionaries who ministered in Mexico. As I worked hard on the necessary preparations, the Lord stirred my soul to start praying that the power of Satan might be clearly seen and the power of the Lord to defeat Satan be just as clear.

For too many times, my Christianity can lapse into a religious ritual, having a form of godliness but denying the power thereof (2 Timothy 3:5). I would then serve a God of my own perception, putting God into the limited boundaries of what I think and feel He is instead of falling down and worshipping Him that He may reveal to me more of His limitless beauty and holiness. My mind’s eye can see God too small, and He was about to open them up to see the reality of who He is.

In Mexico, my group was asked to hold a special service in the middle of one of the villages that the missionaries were trying to reach with the gospel. The homes looked like something out of a John Wayne Western movie. They were a little more than logs and sticks woven together with thatched roofs and Mexican blankets for windows and doors. We went door to door, armed with a few phrases in Spanish that invited the people to attend the service we were holding at their meeting place. The village met in a dirt area at its center, worn down by the traffic of feet over the years.

As the villagers began to assemble, a missionary played music on her accordion. It was a beautiful sunny day, and we were expecting a good crowd. After everyone arrived, we began the service of my group by singing a couple of songs in Spanish. As we took our place, right before we began to sing, one of my teenage girls’ eyes rolled back in her head and she fell flat on the ground. Her head made the thudding sound of a ripe watermelon as it hit the dirt.

As if on cue, the wind began to whip around us as an ominous black cloud came over the mountain range at the edge of the plateau. A few drops of rain began to fall, adding to the disruption of the moment. One of the men from our group took care of the fallen girl as we tried to go on with the service. After our singing, I and a few members of our group stood behind the villagers, discussing in whispers what to do if the rain should come.

I looked over the crowd to see a restlessness setting in. I turned to my friends and said, God’s not going to let it rain on us. Pray! I got alone under a nearby tree and earnestly sought God to do for me what I had been told He had done for other saints as they served Him. I needed God Himself to mightily show up on my behalf. I was not asking for selfish reasons to exalt myself by calling down a miracle from heaven. It was the name of the Lord and His glory that was being challenged.

When I opened my eyes from praying, I looked to the left and saw a wall of water falling about three hundred yards away that was so heavy, it obscured anything from being seen on the other side of it. One of my teenagers saw it and quickly suggested we try to move the meeting into the small bus we had travelled in to the village. It was too small to accommodate the whole group and would probably have been the final disruption that would have ended the service.

God’s not going to let Satan stop this service, I told him. God had been moving in the hearts of the villagers as testimonies and Gospel messages were given. In my heart, I said, Father, I trust you. I know that it looks like we’re going to get drenched, but you stopped the sun and the moon for Joshua when he was fighting your battles. So stop the rain for us.

I looked up again after my prayer. This time, I looked to my right and saw the wall of water was coming down on the other side of the village. I looked to my left and saw the wall of water still coming down at the same spot I had last seen it. Wide eyed, I looked in front and behind me and saw it was raining hard all around us but we were dry in the middle of this circle of rain. I could hardly believe it.

At the end of the service, there were tears in most of the people’s eyes. There were hugs and smiles given as the villagers returned home, thinking about what they had seen and heard. We boarded the bus and began the trip back to the missionary station at the bottom of the mountain. Silence hung in the air like an eagle riding the wind, seeing the world from a perspective those bound to the earth can never know. Awed by the power of God, I felt I had seen something too sacred for words. I just wanted to sit there and soak it all in.

Finally, after a long period of silence, our missionary friend broke the stillness. Well, I hope you’re happy, he said in a sarcastic tone. A puzzled look came over my face. He saw it and continued. These people only get two or three good rains a year, and you prayed that one away. We burst out in laughter, and the bus buzzed with conversation the rest of the way home as each one shared what they saw and felt.

That Sunday, at the little mission church at the bottom of the mountain, twelve people showed up for the church service from that village. After church, they told the missionary the reason they had come was because of what they had seen our God do for us that day in their village. Three months after returning to the US, I received a letter from our missionary telling how the village had opened up to be evangelized. They had to run an old school bus up there to accommodate all the people who wanted to come to church each Sunday.

As I face the challenges of each new day, I often remember that miracle and am encouraged to believe God is waiting to do the same in any life that looks to Him for the miracle He knows they need. However, this kind of faith did not happen overnight for me. My journey of faith and understanding how it works in a person’s daily life began even before I was a believer.

Though my dad died when I was two months old, my mother told me stories of his amazing faith. She said he would pray through on a matter and live in the light of what God had told him. One such story was about my dad being called by someone in the community to pray over their child who was sick and at the point of death.

This was during the time of the Great Depression. There were few doctors available in a rural community and even less money to pay them. Dad went to the home, but before he prayed for the child, he stood silently over the baby to seek