Jesus Never Fails

My dear aunt went to heaven just a few weeks ago. Before she died I had the opportunity to go and visit with her. Even in her advanced stage of cancer she was so full of life and vigor.

As we chatted I noticed an antique looking plaque on the wall. In a beautiful script it read, “Jesus Never Fails.” Admiring it I commented on the veracity of its timely motto.

“That belonged to my mother, your grandmother, and to her mother, your great grandmother before that.”

Aunt Virginia continued to explain to me how that “Jesus Never Fails” was not only engraved on my grandmother’s gravestone but also on my great-grandmother’s gravestone in a cemetery in Santa Barbara. I was intrigued.

On the long drive home from Modesto, where my aunt lived, I talked to Brian about the plaque on the wall. “I wish I had taken a picture of it,” I repined.

Brian then told me that he and Gary, my cousin, had arranged to receive each other’s Tweets. “I will tweet Gary and ask him to take a picture of it.”

Brian was true to his offer. Gary agreed and went to his mom’s house and took a picture of the old plaque that hung above my grandmother’s picture. He had never really given too much notice before.

The week of my aunt’s death my cousin was taken ill with appendicitis. He wanted to be by his mother’s bedside, but had to spend time in the hospital for his own health and recovery. It was difficult for Gary not to be able to be with his mom when she departed for heaven.

Later in the week Gary and his brothers were cleaning out their mom’s house. Gary requested the old plaque on the wall that he had photographed for me.

As Gary lifted it from the wall he noticed some writing on the back. Turning it over he saw his name, Gary From, written in his unmistakable childhood font written on the back. It was as if God was speaking directly to my cousin assuring him, as He had assured his mother Virginia, her mother, and her grandmother that, “Jesus Never Fails.”

In that moment, Gary knew that plaque along with the heritage of faith belonged to him.

I love how Gary’s attention was drawn to a promise that hung on the wall of his mom’s house only to find that his name was already written on that same promise.

God’s promises are not just for others. They are for us. When we take God’s promises into our own possession, we will find, like Gary, that our name is already written on them. They are simply waiting for us to lay claim to them.