Cal Thomas wrote something worth reading:
In calling for a spiritual revival in America at his Lincoln Memorial rally Aug. 28, talk show host Glenn Beck reached back into history and touched on a familiar theme.
What would a genuine revival look like and how did those that have transformed America several times in the past get started? Earlier revivals were not created from the mobilization of large crowds. They occurred when people did something infrequently observed in modern times: humbled themselves.
Depending on how you count them there have been at least three “great awakenings” in American history. All of them—along with revivals in other countries—had one thing in common. They all began with what the late revival historian J. Edwin Orr called “a concert of prayer.”
The 1857 revival is instructive. It began when two men working on Wall Street decided to meet once a week on their lunch hour to pray for revival. They soon decided to meet daily. They did not issue a press release. Other men soon joined them. The group grew so large they started meeting at night in churches and invited their wives to participate.
Revival came like a brush fire, exploding not only in New York City, but also up the Mohawk River and down the Hudson, into Appalachia. According to Revival-Library.org, from February to June 1858, “around 50,000 people a week were added to the church—in a nation whose population was only 30,000,000. Across the Atlantic another million were won to Christ by 1865. . . . Ulster saw 100,000 converted, Scotland 30,000, Wales 100,000 and England 500,000.”
Besides prayer, another characteristic of the 1857 revival and all other revivals was genuine repentance and a confession of personal guilt before a holy God. Anyone familiar with the Old and New Testaments knows that humbling one’s self before God gets His attention faster than any earthly pursuit or agenda.
Modern evangelicals, so preoccupied with who is in the White House or which party controls Congress, might benefit from studying the results of the revivals. As Orr tells it, not only did the 1857 revival have a profound social impact on America, it also dramatically affected every society it reached. Following the revival of 1905, crime virtually disappeared in London. The police had little to do, so they formed quartets and sang at the revival meetings.
A Chicago shoe salesman named Dwight L. Moody wanted to teach Sunday school at a local church, but was told by its superintendent that the church already had 16 teachers too many. The superintendent instructed Moody to “get some boys off the street” and “take them to the country. . . . They will be your class.” That was the beginning of a ministry and missionary work that lasted 40 years.
Revivals don’t ratify the earthly aspirations of humanity, including selfish political agendas. They are about glorifying God. Too many modern Christians have it backward. In a real revival the Lincoln Memorial event would have been a result, not an attempt to cause a revival. People would have assembled who had already repented in private. They would not have bemoaned a decline in American “morality,” but instead have fallen on their knees (or faces) and cried out in genuine repentance and humility.
On his blog, Dr. Russell Moore, dean of the School of Theology at The Southern Baptist Theological Seminary in Louisville, Ky., writes: “Too often, and for too long, American ‘Christianity’ has been a political agenda in search of a gospel useful enough to accommodate it. There is a liberation theology of the Left, and there is also a liberation theology of the Right, and both are at the heart mammon worship. . . .”
What passes for American Christianity today is increasingly counterfeit. It appears more focused on a transient earthly kingdom, rather than a heavenly eternal kingdom. That is idolatry and violates the First Commandment: “Thou shall have no other gods before me.”
When Christians obey that Commandment, and humble themselves, only then might revival follow.
Monday, April 14, 2014
Tuesday, April 8, 2014
Genuine Revival?
I read this recently and thought it good enough to post. There is great excitement about turning back to God, but I do believe that we need to think about what is actually happening. Can a Mormon lead a revival? Are we so hungry for change that we will discard discernment?
A Mormon television star stands in front of the Lincoln Memorial and calls American Christians to revival. He assembles some evangelical celebrities to give testimonies, and then preaches a God and country revivalism that leaves the evangelicals cheering that they've heard the gospel, right there in the nation's capital.The news media pronounces him the new leader of America's Christian conservative movement, and a flock of America's Christian conservatives have no problem with that.If you'd told me that ten years ago, I would have assumed it was from the pages of an evangelical apocalyptic novel about the end-times. But it's not. It's from this week's headlines. And it is a scandal.Fox News commentator Glenn Beck, of course, is that Mormon at the center of all this. Beck isn't the problem. He's an entrepreneur, he's brilliant, and, hats off to him, he knows his market. Latter-day Saints have every right to speak, with full religious liberty, in the public square. I'm quite willing to work with Mormons on various issues, as citizens working for the common good. What concerns me here is not what this says about Beck or the "Tea Party" or any other entertainment or political figure. What concerns me is about what this says about the Christian churches in the United States.It's taken us a long time to get here, in this plummet from Francis Schaeffer to Glenn Beck. In order to be this gullible, American Christians have had to endure years of vacuous talk about undefined "revival" and "turning America back to God" that was less about anything uniquely Christian than about, at best, a generically theistic civil religion and, at worst, some partisan political movement.Rather than cultivating a Christian vision of justice and the common good (which would have, by necessity, been nuanced enough to put us sometimes at odds with our political allies), we've relied on populist God-and-country sloganeering and outrage-generating talking heads. We've tolerated heresy and buffoonery in our leadership as long as with it there is sufficient political "conservatism" and a sufficient commercial venue to sell our books and products.Too often, and for too long, American "Christianity" has been a political agenda in search of a gospel useful enough to accommodate it. There is a liberation theology of the Left, and there is also a liberation theology of the Right, and both are at heart mammon worship. The liberation theology of the Left often wants a Barabbas, to fight off the oppressors as though our ultimate problem were the reign of Rome and not the reign of death. The liberation theology of the Right wants a golden calf, to represent religion and to remind us of all the economic security we had in Egypt. Both want a Caesar or a Pharaoh, not a Messiah.Leaders will always be tempted to bypass the problem behind the problems: captivity to sin, bondage to the accusations of the demonic powers, the sentence of death. That's why so many of our Christian superstars smile at crowds of thousands, reassuring them that they don't like to talk about sin. That's why other Christian celebrities are seen to be courageous for fighting their culture wars, while they carefully leave out the sins most likely to be endemic to the people paying the bills in their movements.Where there is no gospel, something else will fill the void: therapy, consumerism, racial or class resentment, utopian politics, crazy conspiracy theories of the left, crazy conspiracy theories of the right; anything will do. The prophet Isaiah warned us of such conspiracies replacing the Word of God centuries ago (Is. 8:12-20). As long as the Serpent's voice is heard, "You shall not surely die," the powers are comfortable.This is, of course, not new. Our Lord Jesus faced this test when Satan took him to a high mountain and showed him all the kingdoms of the earth, and their glory. Satan did not mind surrendering his authority to Jesus. He didn't mind a universe without pornography or Islam or abortion or nuclear weaponry. Satan did not mind Judeo-Christian values. He wasn't worried about "revival" or "getting back to God." What he opposes was the gospel of Christ crucified and resurrected for the sins of the world.We used to sing that old gospel song, "I will cling to an old rugged cross, and exchange it someday for a crown." The scandalous scene at the Lincoln Memorial indicates that many of us want to exchange it in too soon. To Jesus, Satan offered power and glory. To us, all he needs offer is celebrity and attention.Mormonism and Mammonism are contrary to the gospel of Jesus Christ. They offer another Lord Jesus than the One offered in the Scriptures and Christian tradition, and another way to approach him. An embrace of these tragic new vehicles for the old Gnostic heresy is unloving to our Mormon friends and secularist neighbors, and to the rest of the watching world. Any "revival" that is possible without the Lord Jesus Christ is a "revival" of a different kind of spirit than the Spirit of Christ (1 Jn. 4:1-3).The answer to this scandal isn't a retreat, as some would have it, to an allegedly apolitical isolation. Such attempts lead us right back here, in spades, to a hyper-political wasteland. If the churches are not forming consciences, consciences will be formed by the status quo, including whatever demagogues can yell the loudest or cry the hardest. The answer isn't a narrowing sectarianism, retreating further and further into our enclaves. The answer includes local churches that preach the gospel of Jesus Christ, and disciple their congregations to know the difference between the kingdom of God and the latest political whim.It's sad to see so many Christians confusing Mormon politics or American nationalism with the gospel of Jesus Christ. But, don't get me wrong, I'm not pessimistic. Jesus will build his church, and he will build it on the gospel. He doesn't need American Christianity to do it. Vibrant, loving, orthodox Christianity will flourish, perhaps among the poor of Haiti or the persecuted of Sudan or the outlawed of China, but it will flourish.And there will be a new generation, in America and elsewhere, who will be ready for a gospel that is more than just Fox News at prayer.
A Mormon television star stands in front of the Lincoln Memorial and calls American Christians to revival. He assembles some evangelical celebrities to give testimonies, and then preaches a God and country revivalism that leaves the evangelicals cheering that they've heard the gospel, right there in the nation's capital.The news media pronounces him the new leader of America's Christian conservative movement, and a flock of America's Christian conservatives have no problem with that.If you'd told me that ten years ago, I would have assumed it was from the pages of an evangelical apocalyptic novel about the end-times. But it's not. It's from this week's headlines. And it is a scandal.Fox News commentator Glenn Beck, of course, is that Mormon at the center of all this. Beck isn't the problem. He's an entrepreneur, he's brilliant, and, hats off to him, he knows his market. Latter-day Saints have every right to speak, with full religious liberty, in the public square. I'm quite willing to work with Mormons on various issues, as citizens working for the common good. What concerns me here is not what this says about Beck or the "Tea Party" or any other entertainment or political figure. What concerns me is about what this says about the Christian churches in the United States.It's taken us a long time to get here, in this plummet from Francis Schaeffer to Glenn Beck. In order to be this gullible, American Christians have had to endure years of vacuous talk about undefined "revival" and "turning America back to God" that was less about anything uniquely Christian than about, at best, a generically theistic civil religion and, at worst, some partisan political movement.Rather than cultivating a Christian vision of justice and the common good (which would have, by necessity, been nuanced enough to put us sometimes at odds with our political allies), we've relied on populist God-and-country sloganeering and outrage-generating talking heads. We've tolerated heresy and buffoonery in our leadership as long as with it there is sufficient political "conservatism" and a sufficient commercial venue to sell our books and products.Too often, and for too long, American "Christianity" has been a political agenda in search of a gospel useful enough to accommodate it. There is a liberation theology of the Left, and there is also a liberation theology of the Right, and both are at heart mammon worship. The liberation theology of the Left often wants a Barabbas, to fight off the oppressors as though our ultimate problem were the reign of Rome and not the reign of death. The liberation theology of the Right wants a golden calf, to represent religion and to remind us of all the economic security we had in Egypt. Both want a Caesar or a Pharaoh, not a Messiah.Leaders will always be tempted to bypass the problem behind the problems: captivity to sin, bondage to the accusations of the demonic powers, the sentence of death. That's why so many of our Christian superstars smile at crowds of thousands, reassuring them that they don't like to talk about sin. That's why other Christian celebrities are seen to be courageous for fighting their culture wars, while they carefully leave out the sins most likely to be endemic to the people paying the bills in their movements.Where there is no gospel, something else will fill the void: therapy, consumerism, racial or class resentment, utopian politics, crazy conspiracy theories of the left, crazy conspiracy theories of the right; anything will do. The prophet Isaiah warned us of such conspiracies replacing the Word of God centuries ago (Is. 8:12-20). As long as the Serpent's voice is heard, "You shall not surely die," the powers are comfortable.This is, of course, not new. Our Lord Jesus faced this test when Satan took him to a high mountain and showed him all the kingdoms of the earth, and their glory. Satan did not mind surrendering his authority to Jesus. He didn't mind a universe without pornography or Islam or abortion or nuclear weaponry. Satan did not mind Judeo-Christian values. He wasn't worried about "revival" or "getting back to God." What he opposes was the gospel of Christ crucified and resurrected for the sins of the world.We used to sing that old gospel song, "I will cling to an old rugged cross, and exchange it someday for a crown." The scandalous scene at the Lincoln Memorial indicates that many of us want to exchange it in too soon. To Jesus, Satan offered power and glory. To us, all he needs offer is celebrity and attention.Mormonism and Mammonism are contrary to the gospel of Jesus Christ. They offer another Lord Jesus than the One offered in the Scriptures and Christian tradition, and another way to approach him. An embrace of these tragic new vehicles for the old Gnostic heresy is unloving to our Mormon friends and secularist neighbors, and to the rest of the watching world. Any "revival" that is possible without the Lord Jesus Christ is a "revival" of a different kind of spirit than the Spirit of Christ (1 Jn. 4:1-3).The answer to this scandal isn't a retreat, as some would have it, to an allegedly apolitical isolation. Such attempts lead us right back here, in spades, to a hyper-political wasteland. If the churches are not forming consciences, consciences will be formed by the status quo, including whatever demagogues can yell the loudest or cry the hardest. The answer isn't a narrowing sectarianism, retreating further and further into our enclaves. The answer includes local churches that preach the gospel of Jesus Christ, and disciple their congregations to know the difference between the kingdom of God and the latest political whim.It's sad to see so many Christians confusing Mormon politics or American nationalism with the gospel of Jesus Christ. But, don't get me wrong, I'm not pessimistic. Jesus will build his church, and he will build it on the gospel. He doesn't need American Christianity to do it. Vibrant, loving, orthodox Christianity will flourish, perhaps among the poor of Haiti or the persecuted of Sudan or the outlawed of China, but it will flourish.And there will be a new generation, in America and elsewhere, who will be ready for a gospel that is more than just Fox News at prayer.
Monday, March 31, 2014
Commitment
In the 1860's David Livingstone returned to Great Britain on his first vacation after 16 years of traveling in the interior of darkest Africa. Livingstone was asked to speak at the University of Glasgow, but perhaps he would have declined if he knew what was in store for him. It was the custom of undergraduates those days to heckle the speakers who came, and they were well prepared for this preacher. They had peashooters and trumpets and rattles and noisemakers of every description. David Livingstone walked out on to the platform. Here stood the man who had walked 11,000 miles all over Africa. His left arm hung limply at his side having been almost ripped from his body by a huge lion. His face was dark and leathery brown from 16 years in the African sun. His face was furrowed with deep lines from African fever that racked his emaciated body. Savages, as well as Turks who hunted Africans to sell as slaves had attacked him. Livingstone was half-deaf from rheumatic fever and half blind from a branch that had slapped him in the eyes in the jungle. The students stared and they knew that here was a man that was literally being burned out for God. Not a rattle moved, not a foot shuffled and a hush crept over the vast auditorium as they listened in total silence as David Livingstone told about his journeys and the tremendous needs of this vast African population. "Shall I tell you," he said "what sustained me in the midst of all those toils, hardships, and incredible loneliness? It was a promise. The promise of the Lord that "I am with you always even to the end of the world." It was this promise that Christ would be with me personally right next to me every hour of each day that gave me the courage to continue day after day," Livingstone said
For David Livingstone Jesus Christ was with him, and Livingstone lived as if Jesus Christ was right next to him each moment. In Livingstone's diary we find his tremendous prayer, "Lord send me anywhere, only go with me. Lay any burden on me, only sustain me; sever any ties but the tie that binds me to Your service and to Your heart." And Jesus said "David, I am with you always". Livingstone's wife Mary finally came to meet him in Africa, and for months she sailed on the ocean and then she cruised up the steamy mosquito swarming rivers. Soon after she greeted her husband she contracted African fever. Night after night, day after day David sat up with her and wiped her fevered brow. And slowly she worsened and finally took her last breath. Mary was dead. David Livingstone buried her under a huge tree and then he fell on that mound of dirt and wept. The Lord reminded Livingstone of his prayer. Sever any ties but the tie that binds me to Your service and to Your heart. His body was broken, his loved ones were gone, and he seemed alone and discouraged. He was overcome. How did he deal with sorrow and grief? This is what he wrote in his diary. "My Jesus, my King, my Life, my all. I again consecrate my life to you. I shall place no value on anything I possess, on anything I may do except in relation to the Kingdom of Christ." When he arrived back home he found that natives had stolen his food and worst of all they had stolen his medicine chest with the quinine and other medicines to alleviate the pain of those terrible African fevers. For Livingstone the loss of these essential things was a death sentence and he cried out to God. "Oh, God you promised to be with me." Then he heard the sound and he looked up from his prayer. For five years he had not seen the face of a white man, and now, in the midst of the interior of Africa he looked up and he saw a white face walking toward him. Behind this white man was a whole caravan and above them flying in the wind the American flag. It was Henry Stanley who uttered those unforgettable words, "Dr. Livingstone I presume". For four months Stanley lived in the same hut with Livingstone. He nursed Livingstone back to health. Stanley had been an atheist but after those four months living with Livingstone Stanley became a Christian. Livingstone refused to return to civilization with Stanley. Instead Livingstone plunged deeper into Africa. For Livingstone the end was approaching. His diary said, "Lord help me to finish thy work this year to thine honor." And so he did. He came to a place where his strength was completely spent; his feet were lacerated and ulcerated with boils. He had nothing to eat but hard maize (dried corn) for months. Gradually all his teeth became loosened and fell out. He was deserted by everyone with the exception of three of his followers who tried to carry his very sick body back to England. Livingstone could not walk, he couldn't stand, and he couldn't go another step. His response was simple: Livingstone commanded his friends to put him on a stretcher and carry him onward. "I will not swerve one hairs breadth while I still have life." Deeper and deeper he plunged into Africa on a stretcher. Propped up, he proclaimed the riches of the Gospel of Jesus Christ to all with whom he came into contact. And then there came a day when Livingstone couldn't even be moved. It was pouring rain. A small temporary hut was quickly made. Livingstone was lying on his cot in the middle of the night when the servant boy who lay across the doorway to keep out wild beasts heard Livingstone stir. The servant boy got up and saw Livingstone agonizingly roll out of his cot and on to his knees and with his hands folded in prayer. After a while the boy went back to sleep but in the morning when he looked on Livingstone he saw him still in prayer. Several people came asking for Livingstone but the boy told them that Livingstone was still in prayer not to disturb him. Finally the boy became concerned and said to Livingstone softly "Sir", no answer. "Sir" still silence. He crept closer to him and touched his cold cheek. Livingstone died on his knees in prayer.
David Livingstone died in a village in Zambia, on 1 May 1873 from malaria and internal bleeding caused by dysentery. Britain wanted the body to give it a proper ceremony, but the tribe would not give his body to them. Finally they relented, but cut the heart out and put a note on the body that said, "You can have his body, but his heart belongs in Africa! Livingstone's heart was buried under a Mvula tree near the spot where he died, now the site of the Livingstone Memorial. His body together with his journal was carried over a thousand miles by his loyal attends and was returned to Britain for burial. After lying in repose his remains were interred at Westminster Abbey Livingstone had lived his life in the presence of Christ and he left this life in the presence of Christ. Jesus said, "I am with you always" and He had kept His promise.
Livingstone's life consisted of 39 years, traveling 29,000 miles across Africa bringing light to darkness. Two million Africans were brought to the Gospel and the light he brought continues to shine to this day. For every mile Livingstone walked or was carried, he was strengthened by Jesus' promise: "I am with you always".
For David Livingstone Jesus Christ was with him, and Livingstone lived as if Jesus Christ was right next to him each moment. In Livingstone's diary we find his tremendous prayer, "Lord send me anywhere, only go with me. Lay any burden on me, only sustain me; sever any ties but the tie that binds me to Your service and to Your heart." And Jesus said "David, I am with you always". Livingstone's wife Mary finally came to meet him in Africa, and for months she sailed on the ocean and then she cruised up the steamy mosquito swarming rivers. Soon after she greeted her husband she contracted African fever. Night after night, day after day David sat up with her and wiped her fevered brow. And slowly she worsened and finally took her last breath. Mary was dead. David Livingstone buried her under a huge tree and then he fell on that mound of dirt and wept. The Lord reminded Livingstone of his prayer. Sever any ties but the tie that binds me to Your service and to Your heart. His body was broken, his loved ones were gone, and he seemed alone and discouraged. He was overcome. How did he deal with sorrow and grief? This is what he wrote in his diary. "My Jesus, my King, my Life, my all. I again consecrate my life to you. I shall place no value on anything I possess, on anything I may do except in relation to the Kingdom of Christ." When he arrived back home he found that natives had stolen his food and worst of all they had stolen his medicine chest with the quinine and other medicines to alleviate the pain of those terrible African fevers. For Livingstone the loss of these essential things was a death sentence and he cried out to God. "Oh, God you promised to be with me." Then he heard the sound and he looked up from his prayer. For five years he had not seen the face of a white man, and now, in the midst of the interior of Africa he looked up and he saw a white face walking toward him. Behind this white man was a whole caravan and above them flying in the wind the American flag. It was Henry Stanley who uttered those unforgettable words, "Dr. Livingstone I presume". For four months Stanley lived in the same hut with Livingstone. He nursed Livingstone back to health. Stanley had been an atheist but after those four months living with Livingstone Stanley became a Christian. Livingstone refused to return to civilization with Stanley. Instead Livingstone plunged deeper into Africa. For Livingstone the end was approaching. His diary said, "Lord help me to finish thy work this year to thine honor." And so he did. He came to a place where his strength was completely spent; his feet were lacerated and ulcerated with boils. He had nothing to eat but hard maize (dried corn) for months. Gradually all his teeth became loosened and fell out. He was deserted by everyone with the exception of three of his followers who tried to carry his very sick body back to England. Livingstone could not walk, he couldn't stand, and he couldn't go another step. His response was simple: Livingstone commanded his friends to put him on a stretcher and carry him onward. "I will not swerve one hairs breadth while I still have life." Deeper and deeper he plunged into Africa on a stretcher. Propped up, he proclaimed the riches of the Gospel of Jesus Christ to all with whom he came into contact. And then there came a day when Livingstone couldn't even be moved. It was pouring rain. A small temporary hut was quickly made. Livingstone was lying on his cot in the middle of the night when the servant boy who lay across the doorway to keep out wild beasts heard Livingstone stir. The servant boy got up and saw Livingstone agonizingly roll out of his cot and on to his knees and with his hands folded in prayer. After a while the boy went back to sleep but in the morning when he looked on Livingstone he saw him still in prayer. Several people came asking for Livingstone but the boy told them that Livingstone was still in prayer not to disturb him. Finally the boy became concerned and said to Livingstone softly "Sir", no answer. "Sir" still silence. He crept closer to him and touched his cold cheek. Livingstone died on his knees in prayer.
David Livingstone died in a village in Zambia, on 1 May 1873 from malaria and internal bleeding caused by dysentery. Britain wanted the body to give it a proper ceremony, but the tribe would not give his body to them. Finally they relented, but cut the heart out and put a note on the body that said, "You can have his body, but his heart belongs in Africa! Livingstone's heart was buried under a Mvula tree near the spot where he died, now the site of the Livingstone Memorial. His body together with his journal was carried over a thousand miles by his loyal attends and was returned to Britain for burial. After lying in repose his remains were interred at Westminster Abbey Livingstone had lived his life in the presence of Christ and he left this life in the presence of Christ. Jesus said, "I am with you always" and He had kept His promise.
Livingstone's life consisted of 39 years, traveling 29,000 miles across Africa bringing light to darkness. Two million Africans were brought to the Gospel and the light he brought continues to shine to this day. For every mile Livingstone walked or was carried, he was strengthened by Jesus' promise: "I am with you always".
Tuesday, March 25, 2014
But Once
Hebrews 9:27 And as it is appointed unto men once to die, but after this the judgment:
He was a high school friend.
I couldn't really say that he was a best friend, or even a close friend, but I did count him a friend. When we were both 16, we occasionally hitched rides together during the summer, thumbing our way to the beach. On various occasions, we would encounter one another at a Friday or Saturday night party. His name was David Smith.
We weren't best friends, couldn't be called good friends, but we were friends.
We were standing outside a local hamburger stand in Whittier, California, directly across the street from the high school we had graduated from just the year before. He was talking with some friends, and I was talking to some other friends, and though I knew he was there, I hadn't spoken to him.
As I turned to leave, Dave called to me and said "Hey, David! Catch you later!" I can remember turning to him and saying, "Yeah, we'll see you around!"
That was the last time I saw him alive.
Later that same day, David Smith climbed on to his Honda café racer motorcycle and, after taking a variety of drugs, drove face first into a pick-up truck parked by a curb.
David was killed instantly.
We had a party immediately after his funeral. One of our friends remembered David saying that he didn't want a sad gathering at his funeral but that he would rather have a party. A good sized group of his high school friends got together that day, and we all partied, drank, and cried.
David Smith was 18 years old.
Though I wasn't a Christian at that time, I distinctly remember feeling that life was getting increasingly shorter. As a teen, you can feel invulnerable. You can feel like you will live forever. Because of this, it especially strikes home when one of your friends dies. It has a way of waking you up. It reminds you that you aren't in control. You are not the captain of your own ship or the master of your own destiny. In reality, like the Bible says, you are simply a vapor, a temporary blip on the screen.
You are here today, you will be gone tomorrow.
David's death made an impression on me. It was eventually one of the ingredients the Lord used to bring me to Him. It is appointed unto men once to die, the scripture says.
And after death, the judgment.
How grateful I am to know that, if the Lord should tarry and I should die, that my way has been directed towards the Lord. Today, we will inevitably come into contact with many we expect to see tomorrow, or the next day, or the next. The fact is, tomorrow is promised to no one. Let us endeavor to keep that in mind the next time we come into the David Smith's of our lives, the ones who are waiting to meet the Lord. God help us to lead many to the saving knowledge of the Lord. Let us lift up heavy hands, and continue leading people to Jesus, today.
He was a high school friend.
I couldn't really say that he was a best friend, or even a close friend, but I did count him a friend. When we were both 16, we occasionally hitched rides together during the summer, thumbing our way to the beach. On various occasions, we would encounter one another at a Friday or Saturday night party. His name was David Smith.
We weren't best friends, couldn't be called good friends, but we were friends.
We were standing outside a local hamburger stand in Whittier, California, directly across the street from the high school we had graduated from just the year before. He was talking with some friends, and I was talking to some other friends, and though I knew he was there, I hadn't spoken to him.
As I turned to leave, Dave called to me and said "Hey, David! Catch you later!" I can remember turning to him and saying, "Yeah, we'll see you around!"
That was the last time I saw him alive.
Later that same day, David Smith climbed on to his Honda café racer motorcycle and, after taking a variety of drugs, drove face first into a pick-up truck parked by a curb.
David was killed instantly.
We had a party immediately after his funeral. One of our friends remembered David saying that he didn't want a sad gathering at his funeral but that he would rather have a party. A good sized group of his high school friends got together that day, and we all partied, drank, and cried.
David Smith was 18 years old.
Though I wasn't a Christian at that time, I distinctly remember feeling that life was getting increasingly shorter. As a teen, you can feel invulnerable. You can feel like you will live forever. Because of this, it especially strikes home when one of your friends dies. It has a way of waking you up. It reminds you that you aren't in control. You are not the captain of your own ship or the master of your own destiny. In reality, like the Bible says, you are simply a vapor, a temporary blip on the screen.
You are here today, you will be gone tomorrow.
David's death made an impression on me. It was eventually one of the ingredients the Lord used to bring me to Him. It is appointed unto men once to die, the scripture says.
And after death, the judgment.
How grateful I am to know that, if the Lord should tarry and I should die, that my way has been directed towards the Lord. Today, we will inevitably come into contact with many we expect to see tomorrow, or the next day, or the next. The fact is, tomorrow is promised to no one. Let us endeavor to keep that in mind the next time we come into the David Smith's of our lives, the ones who are waiting to meet the Lord. God help us to lead many to the saving knowledge of the Lord. Let us lift up heavy hands, and continue leading people to Jesus, today.
Monday, March 17, 2014
A Place for You
John 14:1-3 Let not your heart be troubled: ye believe in God, believe also in me. In my Father's house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again, and receive you unto myself; that where I am, there ye may be also.
He was my uncle, my father's younger brother. He was dying of cancer.
At one time he was a big, strong, truck driver. He was handsome, with thick black hair, a trimmed mustache, piercing green eyes, a broad strong back, and muscular arms developed over the years he had worked so diligently to provide for his family. As a little boy, I was a bit afraid of him because, like all the Rosales men, he had a loud voice and a gruff way of speaking and when he spoke to me, he would speak so loudly it would scare me. Still, I loved him. He was my Uncle Ray.
But now, he was dying. Cancer ravaged his once strong body, and treatment had removed his beautiful black hair and his trademark Rosales mustache. My father had called me and had said "Son, your Uncle Ray is about to die. If you want to see him before he passes on, then you should get to the hospital as soon as you can". I remember driving to the hospital that night, thinking of how much I loved him, and how much he meant to me. As I sat in the waiting room, I looked around and gazed at my other uncles and cousins. I especially looked at my uncles; honest, hard-working men who carried the name of their father with dignity and who owned the values he worked so hard to instill in them. Men who knew what it was like to rise early in the morning to work a long and hard day. Men who refused to complain, and who would not entertain the thought that somehow they ended up with less then they deserved.
I thought of my father, who had done the best job he could to instill those values in his own family, in his own sons, and how I owned those values and was doing my best to pass them on to my children.
I left the visitor's room, and went to see my uncle.
Lying on the bed was a living skeleton, a shadow of the man he once was, devoid of his hair, skin that was yellow, sunken cheeks, eyes closed. Lying on the bed was a grain of seed, being prepared for the Resurrection. As I approached his bedside, his wife said, "Mijo (my son), your uncle is unable to respond. He hasn't spoken all day, and I don't know if he will hear you or talk back to you. Speak to him like a Rosales, so that he can hear you!" Instantly I remembered the trait of my family, as we all speak loudly, and I smiled. I approached his bed and said "Uncle Ray, I have come to pray for you". Immediately he mumbled "Pray", and I took him by the hand, and I said "Jesus has gone ahead, and has prepared a place for you. He is waiting for you, and soon, you will be with Him in glory". And I prayed my last prayer for my beloved Uncle Ray. In a few short hours, he went home to be with Jesus. A few days later, on a Sunday afternoon, I preached to around two hundred of my relatives, encouraging them to have what my Uncle Ray had, a saving knowledge of Jesus Christ. Uncle Ray was now beholding the face of Jesus, and his desire would be that we all would one day do the same.
Just think. We have a place waiting for us, prepared by Jesus Himself. How I look forward to being there with Him. But until that moment, I have decided to take as many people with me as possible. Today, remember, Jesus has gone ahead to prepare a place for you. Let us not be selfish, let us not go to heaven, alone.
He was my uncle, my father's younger brother. He was dying of cancer.
At one time he was a big, strong, truck driver. He was handsome, with thick black hair, a trimmed mustache, piercing green eyes, a broad strong back, and muscular arms developed over the years he had worked so diligently to provide for his family. As a little boy, I was a bit afraid of him because, like all the Rosales men, he had a loud voice and a gruff way of speaking and when he spoke to me, he would speak so loudly it would scare me. Still, I loved him. He was my Uncle Ray.
But now, he was dying. Cancer ravaged his once strong body, and treatment had removed his beautiful black hair and his trademark Rosales mustache. My father had called me and had said "Son, your Uncle Ray is about to die. If you want to see him before he passes on, then you should get to the hospital as soon as you can". I remember driving to the hospital that night, thinking of how much I loved him, and how much he meant to me. As I sat in the waiting room, I looked around and gazed at my other uncles and cousins. I especially looked at my uncles; honest, hard-working men who carried the name of their father with dignity and who owned the values he worked so hard to instill in them. Men who knew what it was like to rise early in the morning to work a long and hard day. Men who refused to complain, and who would not entertain the thought that somehow they ended up with less then they deserved.
I thought of my father, who had done the best job he could to instill those values in his own family, in his own sons, and how I owned those values and was doing my best to pass them on to my children.
I left the visitor's room, and went to see my uncle.
Lying on the bed was a living skeleton, a shadow of the man he once was, devoid of his hair, skin that was yellow, sunken cheeks, eyes closed. Lying on the bed was a grain of seed, being prepared for the Resurrection. As I approached his bedside, his wife said, "Mijo (my son), your uncle is unable to respond. He hasn't spoken all day, and I don't know if he will hear you or talk back to you. Speak to him like a Rosales, so that he can hear you!" Instantly I remembered the trait of my family, as we all speak loudly, and I smiled. I approached his bed and said "Uncle Ray, I have come to pray for you". Immediately he mumbled "Pray", and I took him by the hand, and I said "Jesus has gone ahead, and has prepared a place for you. He is waiting for you, and soon, you will be with Him in glory". And I prayed my last prayer for my beloved Uncle Ray. In a few short hours, he went home to be with Jesus. A few days later, on a Sunday afternoon, I preached to around two hundred of my relatives, encouraging them to have what my Uncle Ray had, a saving knowledge of Jesus Christ. Uncle Ray was now beholding the face of Jesus, and his desire would be that we all would one day do the same.
Just think. We have a place waiting for us, prepared by Jesus Himself. How I look forward to being there with Him. But until that moment, I have decided to take as many people with me as possible. Today, remember, Jesus has gone ahead to prepare a place for you. Let us not be selfish, let us not go to heaven, alone.
Monday, March 10, 2014
Pick Up Your Cross Daily
Is serving the Lord difficult? Some might say that it is not, but often the reason they may say that is because frankly, they really don't serve Him that often. In reality, serving the Lord can be tough to do. I was reading something recently about John G. Paton, who with his young wife left the British Isles and went to the New Hebrides Islands, to a place that had had no missionaries. Earlier, two missionaries had landed on one of the islands but were killed minutes after they landed, and were eaten by cannibals prompting Paton to write: Thus were the New Hebrides baptized with the blood of martyrs; and Christ thereby told the whole Christian world that He claimed these islands as His own!
Someone wrote: He and his wife arrived on the island of Tanna November 5, 1858, and Mary was pregnant. The baby was born February 12, 1859. "Our island-exile thrilled with joy! But the greatest of sorrows was treading hard upon the heels of that great joy!". Mary had reaped attacks of ague and fever and pneumonia and diarrhea with delirium for two weeks. Paton wrote: "Then in a moment, altogether unexpectedly, she died on March third. To crown my sorrows, and complete my loneliness, the dear baby-boy, whom we had named after her father, Peter Robert Robson, was taken from me after one week's sickness, on the 20th of March. Let those who have ever passed through any similar darkness as of midnight feel for me; as for all others, it would be more than vain to try to paint my sorrows"! He dug the two graves with his own hands and buried them by the house he had built. Once again, he wrote: Stunned by that dreadful loss, in entering upon this field of labor to which the Lord had Himself so evidently led me, my reason seemed for a time almost to give way. The ever-merciful Lord sustained me . . . and that spot became my sacred and much- frequented shrine, during all the following months and years when I labored on for the salvation of the savage Islanders amidst difficulties, dangers, and deaths. . . . But for Jesus, and the fellowship he vouchsafed to me there, I must have gone mad and died beside the lonely grave!
Ministry can be tough. It must have been unbelievably difficult for him, as after burying his wife and baby he had to sleep on their graves every night lest the cannibals come and dig them up.
Today, people think serving Jesus is difficult because nobody seems to know their names, or never seems to appreciate their time and sacrifice, or even criticizes them when they try to serve the Lord. Still, the Lord calls us to be faithful, and to remember that He is the One who sees, remembers, and yes...even rewards. I think a hymn written by Isaac Watts says it well: Am I a soldier of the cross, A follower of the Lamb? And shall I fear to own His cause, Or blush to speak his name? Must I be carried to the skies On flowery beds of ease, While others fought to win the prize and sailed thro' bloody seas?
Lord Jesus, I am ashamed to admit I am not as faithful as I could be. Forgive me, and may I serve You with greater love than ever before.
Someone wrote: He and his wife arrived on the island of Tanna November 5, 1858, and Mary was pregnant. The baby was born February 12, 1859. "Our island-exile thrilled with joy! But the greatest of sorrows was treading hard upon the heels of that great joy!". Mary had reaped attacks of ague and fever and pneumonia and diarrhea with delirium for two weeks. Paton wrote: "Then in a moment, altogether unexpectedly, she died on March third. To crown my sorrows, and complete my loneliness, the dear baby-boy, whom we had named after her father, Peter Robert Robson, was taken from me after one week's sickness, on the 20th of March. Let those who have ever passed through any similar darkness as of midnight feel for me; as for all others, it would be more than vain to try to paint my sorrows"! He dug the two graves with his own hands and buried them by the house he had built. Once again, he wrote: Stunned by that dreadful loss, in entering upon this field of labor to which the Lord had Himself so evidently led me, my reason seemed for a time almost to give way. The ever-merciful Lord sustained me . . . and that spot became my sacred and much- frequented shrine, during all the following months and years when I labored on for the salvation of the savage Islanders amidst difficulties, dangers, and deaths. . . . But for Jesus, and the fellowship he vouchsafed to me there, I must have gone mad and died beside the lonely grave!
Ministry can be tough. It must have been unbelievably difficult for him, as after burying his wife and baby he had to sleep on their graves every night lest the cannibals come and dig them up.
Today, people think serving Jesus is difficult because nobody seems to know their names, or never seems to appreciate their time and sacrifice, or even criticizes them when they try to serve the Lord. Still, the Lord calls us to be faithful, and to remember that He is the One who sees, remembers, and yes...even rewards. I think a hymn written by Isaac Watts says it well: Am I a soldier of the cross, A follower of the Lamb? And shall I fear to own His cause, Or blush to speak his name? Must I be carried to the skies On flowery beds of ease, While others fought to win the prize and sailed thro' bloody seas?
Lord Jesus, I am ashamed to admit I am not as faithful as I could be. Forgive me, and may I serve You with greater love than ever before.
Tuesday, March 4, 2014
A Friend of Sinners
Matt. 9:11-13 And when the Pharisees saw it, they said unto his disciples, Why eateth your Master with publicans and sinners? But when Jesus heard that, he said unto them, They that be whole need not a physician, but they that are sick. But go ye and learn what that meaneth, I will have mercy, and not sacrifice: for I am not come to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance.
I couldn't believe my eyes. I had heard a knock on the door, and had gone to open it. Standing directly in front of me was an old friend, a friend I hadn't seen since I was 15 years old. We had attended elementary school, Junior High, and up to the second year of High School together. We went through our rebellious teens together, and had experimented with drinking and taking drugs together. We lost touch when he was a sophomore in High School, and it had been eight years since I had seen him last. Now, I had been saved for three years, and he was back in my life. Standing right in front of me.
"How's it goin', man? What's been happening in your life?" he asked. By the way that he spoke to me, I could see that he was under the influence of some drug, or alcohol, or perhaps a combination of both. It turns out he was under the influence of a combination of alcohol and a barbiturates known as seconal, (or reds as we used to call them). "I'm going to walk to the corner, to the Liquor store", he said. "I'm going to buy some beer. Would you like to come with me? We can rap about old times, and you can tell me what's new in your life" he said.
Immediately I thought about my reputation in the neighborhood. For several years, my neighbors knew me as a pretty wild kid; drinking, taking drugs, and basically just running wild. Since becoming a Christian, I had done my best to erase that memory, and really wanted to keep my new reputation for being a Christian untainted. How could I do that, and be seen walking down the street with an old friend, who was staggering drunk?
At first I was tempted to just have him walk to the store alone. I thought that I could have him go buy his beer, and then have him come into the house when he was through drinking it. But something inside me prompted me to walk to the store with him. The Spirit clearly was reminded me of how Jesus was called a friend of sinners. I certainly was no better than Jesus, so I did what I felt He would have me to do at that time. I walked with my friend.
When we returned, I shared the love of Jesus with Him. That day, after a lengthy time of sharing God's word and God's love with him, my friend bowed his head in prayer, and received Jesus as his Lord and Savior. As I had the joy of praying with him, I could not help but thank God, because indeed, He still is the friend of sinners.
Today, you will have many opportunities to minister the gracious love of Jesus to those who are quite obviously sinners and others who hide their sin well. Do not be afraid of loving those who obviously are not aware of the gracious love of God, in Jesus. Why not take the opportunity of introducing this loving Savior to those who have yet to understand God's gracious love towards them. Remember, as Paul said, "While we were yet sinners, Christ died for us!"
I couldn't believe my eyes. I had heard a knock on the door, and had gone to open it. Standing directly in front of me was an old friend, a friend I hadn't seen since I was 15 years old. We had attended elementary school, Junior High, and up to the second year of High School together. We went through our rebellious teens together, and had experimented with drinking and taking drugs together. We lost touch when he was a sophomore in High School, and it had been eight years since I had seen him last. Now, I had been saved for three years, and he was back in my life. Standing right in front of me.
"How's it goin', man? What's been happening in your life?" he asked. By the way that he spoke to me, I could see that he was under the influence of some drug, or alcohol, or perhaps a combination of both. It turns out he was under the influence of a combination of alcohol and a barbiturates known as seconal, (or reds as we used to call them). "I'm going to walk to the corner, to the Liquor store", he said. "I'm going to buy some beer. Would you like to come with me? We can rap about old times, and you can tell me what's new in your life" he said.
Immediately I thought about my reputation in the neighborhood. For several years, my neighbors knew me as a pretty wild kid; drinking, taking drugs, and basically just running wild. Since becoming a Christian, I had done my best to erase that memory, and really wanted to keep my new reputation for being a Christian untainted. How could I do that, and be seen walking down the street with an old friend, who was staggering drunk?
At first I was tempted to just have him walk to the store alone. I thought that I could have him go buy his beer, and then have him come into the house when he was through drinking it. But something inside me prompted me to walk to the store with him. The Spirit clearly was reminded me of how Jesus was called a friend of sinners. I certainly was no better than Jesus, so I did what I felt He would have me to do at that time. I walked with my friend.
When we returned, I shared the love of Jesus with Him. That day, after a lengthy time of sharing God's word and God's love with him, my friend bowed his head in prayer, and received Jesus as his Lord and Savior. As I had the joy of praying with him, I could not help but thank God, because indeed, He still is the friend of sinners.
Today, you will have many opportunities to minister the gracious love of Jesus to those who are quite obviously sinners and others who hide their sin well. Do not be afraid of loving those who obviously are not aware of the gracious love of God, in Jesus. Why not take the opportunity of introducing this loving Savior to those who have yet to understand God's gracious love towards them. Remember, as Paul said, "While we were yet sinners, Christ died for us!"
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
