Jennifer leaned forward at the restaurant and confided to me, "I'm really attracted to my friend's husband. We've been jogging together for several weeks now. Whenever we run, he says he's captivated by me too."

What? My heart started pounding as if I had just finished a 200-meter sprint. I continued to listen as my married friend gushed about another man.

Jennifer and I had befriended each other as 4-year-olds. By fifth grade we rode identical blue Schwinn 10-speeds. In high school she had toted her Bible to my house every time she slept over, contributing to me meeting God personally. After graduation, I had stood up as a bridesmaid in her wedding.

About a year after she and her husband exchanged vows, Jennifer had estranged herself from me. I didn't know what happened, but I mourned the friend who no longer responded to my calls.

Then a few months later, Jennifer invited me out to lunch, where she admitted spending time with someone else's husband. Jennifer is making decisions that could lead to adultery, I thought.

Shocked, I struggled with what to say. On one hand, I wanted to restore our friendship. On the other hand, I figured that if I didn't warn her, wouldn't I be an accessory to her tête-à-tête? The Holy Spirit prompted me to confront her. But I ignored Him. I listened and nodded while my friend rationalized her behavior.

Throughout the rest of that week, however, I pondered, What kind of friendship are we going to have? One built on trust? No. I don't trust her, because she is forsaking her marriage covenant. She can't trust me either, because I had refused to tell her the truth. If she were reaching out, I let her down.

A couple of weeks later, after poring over this dilemma again and again in my mind, I decided to obey God even though that meant Jennifer might never talk to me again. I confronted her the best way I knew at the time. I wrote her a letter.

My friend thanked me for the note, and subsequently walked out of my life. She also walked away from her husband.

Jennifer's husband called me shortly after. "I found a note from you in Jennifer's drawer," he said. "Thanks for putting our marriage above your friendship, even though neither worked out."

Though I lost that friendship, I am thankful I spoke God's truth to Jennifer. Rather than living with regret that I contributed to her now-broken marriage, I have peace that I obeyed my God—maybe a little late, but I did.

"We're passing people every day who are on their way somewhere," Bill Bright says. "There's a way to talk about Christ, or at least take some initiative, even when there's no time."

Bill carries a stack of Four Spiritual Laws booklets in his pocket when he travels. On planes, in taxis and at hotels, he reaches out to passengers, drivers and bellhops.

But what does he say when he only has a quick cab ride?

"Where are you from?"

"I'm from India."

"Are you a Hindu?"

"Yes, I am."

"Have you heard about Jesus Christ?"

"Yes, he was a good teacher."

"He's wonderful, He's loving, He's merciful. I love Him with all my heart. This Four Spiritual Laws booklet contains the most joyful news ever announced and gives everything you need to know Christ personally." Then he tips the driver well as he leaves.

In these moments in transit, Bill exalts Christ and gives people the opportunity to receive Him. Taking the initiative is the key.

My body still on East Coast time, I awoke at 4:00 a.m. during a conference in California. To avoid rousing my roommate, I stepped outside, stretched, and headed down a hill for a pre-dawn jog. I enjoyed the fresh air. After a while I turned back toward the hotel. Uphill.

Soon I found myself forcing my feet to take each step, willing each foot to jog, then to walk and finally to trudge on. Nearing the crest, I looked up. An orange rim around the mountains hinted at the rising sun. The stars, so bright and clear I felt I could reach out and touch them, took my breath away. I hadn't noticed them while looking at my feet. But seeing them spurred me to forget my fatigue and reach the top, so I could see even more.

Sometimes we must look up to adjust our perspectives. Like the early- morning jog, the conference helped me look up from deadlines and daily work and focus on a bigger perspective. It gave me time to talk to God, and to hear from Him.

Four days later I returned to Orlando, Fla., refreshed and reminded that my work as a Worldwide Challenge editor isn't just about the stories we put on the pages. It's about seeing God use them in people's lives. Getting the stories right is important, but only in light of God's ultimate purpose.

When Samuel sent his young son, Armand, off to school one day in 1988, he looked his son in the eye and said, "Have a good day at school, and remember, no matter what, I'll always be there for you." He hugged his son, and the boy ran off.

Hours later, a powerful earthquake rocked Armenia. Buildings crumbled; people panicked; the radio announced casualties in the thousands. Samuel rushed to the schoolyard. When he reached it, he found Armand's school amidst a pile of debris and grief-stricken parents.

Samuel started pulling off rubble from the place where Armand's classroom used to stand. One of the parents looking on asked, "What are you doing?"

"Digging for my son," Samuel answered.

"You're just going to make things worse!" the man exclaimed, trying to pull Samuel away. "This building is unstable."

Samuel set his jaw and continued digging. All through the night and into the next day, he persisted. Parents placed flowers and pictures of their children on the ruins, but Samuel just squared his shoulders and snatched up a beam. Wedging it under a stubborn boulder, he tried to pry it out of the way. Finally, the boulder gave way.

A faint "Help" came from under the rubble. Samuel recognized the voice and dug furiously. Finally he could see Armand. "Come out!" he said with relief.

"Let the other kids out first," Armand replied, "because I know you'll get me."

Child after child emerged until, finally, Samuel grabbed a sputtering Armand in his arms. "I told the other kids not to worry," Armand said confidently. "I told them that if you were alive, you'd save me and then they'd be saved. You promised you'd always be there for me."

Fourteen children were saved that day because one father was faithful.¹ How much more faithful is our heavenly Father! Whether trapped by fallen debris in an earthquake or trapped by life's hardships and struggles, we are never cut off from His love. As Jeremiah writes in Lamentations 3:22,23 (New International Version), "Because of the Lord's great love we are not consumed, for His compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness."

God's faithfulness is at the core of His nature. He is always faithful to who He is and stands behind His Word. You can count on Him to keep His promises and carry out His purposes. God's faithfulness, however, is unconditional. His faithfulness is so much a part of who He is that He cannot become unfaithful to anyone—whether to grateful believers or to skeptics who doubt His reality—despite the cost. Paul assures us in 2 Timothy 2:13 (NIV), "If we are faithless, He will remain faithful, for He cannot disown Himself." God's faithfulness is not affected by anyone's lack of faith.

We commonly speak of faithfulness as loyal, conscientious, or true in affection or allegiance. But as you look deeper at this word, you see the root word in faithfulness is "faith." Spiritually, the word means being "full of faith."

God's faithfulness is the essential foundation to building faithfulness in our lives. It causes us to love Him daily and seek Him more. As we get to know Him better, our faith in Him grows and we reflect more of His faithfulness to others.

We all experience hard times in our lives. These struggles with sickness, danger, financial problems, grief or depression happen to each of us at times. But these should only prompt us to cling ever tighter to God—not to turn away from Him, or blame Him for causing or allowing all our troubles. He does not promise to prevent problems from coming into our lives, but He promises to go through them with us. We can rely on God to use these trials to build character and faith in our lives.

I have found that as I rely on God's faithfulness and the promises in His Word, He has proved more than able to walk with me through every situation. Truly He's been faithful to me! We can confidently say to our loving Father, just as Armand said to his, "You promised you'd always be there for me."

1. Jack Canfield (ed.), Mark Victor Hansen; Chicken Soup for the Soul (Health Communications, 1995); pp. 273,274.

A few years ago, while living in the Middle East, I visited an orphanage. Having seen a CNN report on an orphanage in Romania, I prepared myself for what I might experience.

Upon entering the nursery, I noticed a crib in the corner of the room. The orphan lying there, having the largest eyes I had ever seen, stared straight ahead. As I approached and touched his hand, he smiled. My heart melted as he responded happily to the slightest human kindness.

His skin was rough and unpleasant to touch—not at all like a baby's skin—and it was impossible to tell his age. His arms and legs were long, but underdeveloped and much too small for his head and body. I couldn't tell if he was malnourished or suffering from some disease. Less cared for than the other children and smelling of urine, he seemed forgotten.

I picked him up. How I wanted to love this unattractive and utterly alone child. I held him awhile, but the feel of his damp body and his foul odor made my stomach churn. I began to gag.

I had to put the boy down. I wanted to clean him up and change his diaper, but I was told that my desire to help would not be received well by the orphanage staff. Powerless to help, I walked away feeling like a failure. I wanted to love him, yet I, too, rejected him.

As I held the child and struggled not to put him down, I thought of the Lord. It reminded me that we are like this little child. Our heavenly Father picked us up in our filth and stench. He cleansed us, washed us and wiped away our grime. He made us clean. And even though by our own choice we return to our filth and stench, He continues to hold us in His arms. How much more He must hate the filth, yet He never lets us go—never stops loving. God never rejects us. No matter how strong our "odor" becomes, He keeps us in His arms.