Serve only the Lord. Keep God first, before every other thing. Revere God and represent him truthfully. Rest and celebrate God’s faithfulness to you. Honor the leadership of your parents. Respect life, bodily and emotionally. Enjoy sexual things only within the sacred bond of marriage. Cherish the things you own and work for new […]
There have been times in my life when I’ve descended to fight the fiercest battles against the past possibilities of my life. It never took much to engage: a family member’s new success; an acquaintance’s marriage or new baby; the news of old friends excelling. It could all send me over the edge because I always seemed to be going nowhere.
So I would turn my weapon and inflict harm on myself—If you had only bought this, not done that, tried harder, moved there, stayed longer, saved more, asserted yourself, learned this, said no, spoke up, imitated him, asked her, agreed to everything, and been a real man, you might be farther up the road, more pleasing to yourself, your people, and your God.
I’d snap from the madness minutes later like a limb in the face. So what if you’re right? I often thought. And what if it is partially true that the way things have turned out for you is not entirely your fault? None of this was the point though. What would that hill of sorrows ever matter? So I’d concede to the apparent: nothing so obvious in a battle.
Perhaps the places we’ve had to pass through in life were not all necessary to get us where we stand. We mess up sometimes. We fail to heed good advice; we become neglectful. It is often the case for many of us that where we are in life is not where we wish we were, but it is certainly better than many conditions in which we could find ourselves. Yet where we are might make it worth taking another look at where we’ve come from.
Look at you—the cuts and bruises, your sweat-soaked head and blood-filled mouth, burning lungs and tired limbs. They all speak wonders of a person who would have welcomed demise not long ago. Somewhere something happened that put armor in your flesh and turned a heart into iron. The double-take reveals that where you stand, in maturity and insight, is light years ahead of where methods would have gotten you by now.
Lightning couldn’t strike a more terrifying revelation in that moment that what-ifs and alternate realities cannot be trusted. Having one’s “ducks in a row” and charting every cent and second of one’s life may require just a pullet feather to topple it all. Moreover, we don’t interview the ones on hospital beds now or in prison now to hear the other half of glamorous, climbing-the-ladder, American Dream stories, the ones that take dramatic detours.
I am not what I do! I am not what I possess! I am not what others think of me! I will not be a pawn of any system!
Sure, some say, this is precisely the argument of someone lamenting his or her failed life, and it’s easy to concede to spiritualities then. But this is no failure or newfound faith. It is merely a second look at what we now understand to be the long way around, a redemptive and awfully appreciable route.
Do not make the mistake of hearing me equate the rat race with normal living and progress, for too often this is what progressiveness gets us, especially in this generation. “You cannot serve God and mammon” (Matt. 6:24) is so radically inclusive of all the many cares of life in which we foolishly place our trust. I am guilty of it—why else should I share my grief?
I know what it is to put it all on paper only to watch the paper go up in smoke. I know what to tire feels like and understand rough-hewn Peter, captain and fisherman, contesting Christ: “We have been out here all night while you were sleeping. But just this once, at your strange insistence, we’ll launch again” (Luke 5:4-11).
We must trust God. “For he knows the way that I take; when he has tested me, I will come forth as gold” (Job 23:10). We are not forgotten, wherever we find ourselves on this journey. He is closer to us in the process than we perceive.
“’The Lord has deserted us; the Lord has forgotten us.’ Never! Can a mother forget her nursing child? Can she feel no love for the child she has borne? But even if that were possible, I would not forget you! See, I have written your name on the palms of my hands.” (Isaiah 49:14-16)
Jesus’s encounter with the rich young ruler is fascinating. Unfortunately, the most we ever retain of it is the command for the man to give away his fortune and his walking away disappointed. But it’s the rest of the story and Jesus’s insight on the human heart that makes this account intriguing.
We know from the story itself that this gentleman was young, rich, and some type of ruler, perhaps of a synagogue or political institution. We also know that he was eagerly devout but now troubled in his spiritual life, which brought him to Jesus.
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In my mind, I always envision this guy as the newbie executive, good-looking and not long out of grad school, boasting a remarkable resume and impeccable work record and reputed to be a go-getter. Everyone loves being around him, even the old-heads. But, although he’s sharp and soaring to the top, he still needs some tweaking, and he runs smack into the one who can help him the most see what he’s missing.
This man finds Jesus on his way out of town. He respectfully bows, acknowledging Jesus’s status as a great teacher. Then he makes a mistake—“Good teacher…” The mistake isn’t apparent to us because we don’t share the language or cultural context in which it was expressed. Surely we consider Jesus a good teacher in every possible sense.
Yet Jesus stops him…on a technicality. The word good—the way it was conveyed—denotes intrinsic goodness and was mainly used when referring to Jehovah. Jesus challenges the man’s needless flattery: “Why do you refer to me with such divine language but respect me as a mere man?” There was much Jesus could’ve said to affirm his divinity with the statement, but this wasn’t the point. Instead, it is a lesson about simplicity and avoiding pretension that this “executive” quickly learns with Jesus.
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So what was he to do to inherit eternal life? Something agitated this young man. He was devout but searching, and his audience with the great Galilean had come. Jesus points him to the Law of Moses to which he discloses his lifelong history of discreet living.
There is a correlation here between this man and the seeker. What we see in the ruler is an awakened spiritual conscience being drawn by the Holy Spirit. We should not doubt his words to Jesus that he had obeyed the precepts of God as best he could. But Jesus, already knowing the condition of his heart, lures him to a perch in his own soul where he could perceive that religion-by-the-book falls terribly short of unbridled devotion from the heart.
“One thing you lack,” Jesus tells him. This was the climactic moment this Jesus admirer had long awaited. He was going to get the solution to his problem. “Go, sell everything you have.” What! This was no letdown; it was a shock. But he was cornered, and he understood exactly what Jesus was telling him.
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Jesus wasn’t condemning this man’s status, wealth, or reputation. Instead, he was attacking the covetousness that festered in his heart. Money had a grip on this man’s life, and his devotion to God, something he treasured, suffered because of it. Jesus’s instruction was a major test that served to reveal the root problem—idolatry—that prevented him from having the peace he sought.
Jesus asked him to do the impossible for himself—for someone else it could be the directive to end a relationship, to quit a job or activity, or to assume a responsibility. The command, whatever it is, exposes what might be controlling us, and within it we always face a decision. Unfortunately for this man, covetousness proved that he could not freely serve God because he would not.
Before I move on, notice something Jesus said: “Go, sell everything you have and give to the poor, and then you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me.” Does that formula sound familiar? The text explains that Jesus had a fondness for this guy. Surely Jesus appraised his inner purity and strength of character.
Was he inviting this gentleman to be part of his circle…a disciple? The other twelve had indeed left everything behind to follow Jesus. Certainly, there was some type of ministry Jesus intended for him. Here was a break this young executive could’ve only imagined, but his heart wouldn’t allow him to have it.
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After the man leaves Jesus dejected, Jesus exclaims, “How hard it is for the rich to enter the kingdom of God!” In fact, he says it twice. Then, he states something incredibly revealing: “With man this is impossible, but not with God; all things are possible with God.”
He speaks of the transformation of the heart, with regard to the rich who have idolized their wealth but not limited to them. The verse is similar to those given in Genesis (18:14) and Jeremiah (32:27) where the reference is more about physical might: “Is anything too hard for the Lord?” Of course, Jesus would aim the notion toward the heart.
What is possible is the ability for the human heart to overcome even the strongest vices by God’s grace. It may be incredibly difficult and people might never believe it about one, but God will help us, if we let him.
And is this not the gospel? Isn’t this the fullest expression of the cross? That we need not be dominated…mastered by sin…controlled by our weaknesses? After a while sin isn’t fun anymore. Jesus offers us freedom.
(Drawn from Matt. 19:16-30; Mark 10:17-31; Luke 18:18-30)
I once worked in the photo department of a drugstore. I recall a lady who dropped off her film and promised to promptly return for it that day. I started developing the film and noticed that all the pictures were of a sleeping infant, but something was different about the baby. I was engrossed in the pictures as they came out of the printer, trying to put together what I was seeing. It looked like a wonderfully real doll until I suddenly realized that this was no doll or sleeping child. It was a dead baby.
The lady returned as she had said whereupon I tactfully commented about the photos. She apologized to me and stated that she usually explained the content of her film before having them developed but simply had failed to do so this day. These photos were part of her job: She was head of Pregnancy Loss Services in the maternity ward of one of the major hospitals. When children were born dead or had died in birth, her group went into action with different services the parents might desire to ease their grief. These ranged from photos like these to private funerals and regional commemorative walks.
Although my questions about the photos were satisfied, the pictures had a negative effect on me. They got on my nerves and haunted me for an entire week. I’d have flashes of the dead child while driving down the road or lose my appetite—such were the things that happened to me. Thereafter and almost weekly, the lady brought in film and the photos became more disturbing: babies in all stages of fetal development, some mutant-looking and badly discolored.
Even more shocking were the photos of smiling parents and family cuddled with their child—dressed if possible—and complete with balloons and other party stuffs, as though the child celebrated its birthday. The moments captured in those photos were terribly sad to view, but they were also powerfully consoling to the parents who were able to see a child’s tiny fingers or dark hair or resemblance to a sibling. It was literally a lifetime bundled in a single moment.
The Spiritually Dead
I realize that the story I’ve just related might be bizarre or difficult to read, but I use it as a prompt to discuss a spiritual point. Every person on earth spiritually enters this life as that unfortunate child—dead. There is no worthy goodness, no ability to love God, no self-motivated effort to reach him or ponder thoughts about him, even no chance of assessing our own depravity. We lie helplessly dead. In fact, this is one of Christianity’s classic teachings, the total depravity of humans as a result of original sin, another classic teaching. Every capacity of the human creature is impacted by the taint and destructiveness of sin.
The urgency of evangelism lies in what is at stake, the eternal soul: the soul that will either forever enjoy the presence of God or experience the torment of his separation. Thus, to do evangelism we must have a clear estimation about whom we’re targeting, which should look something like this: A spiritually dead person whose knowledge about church, past activities there, beliefs about Jesus, and so forth have heretofore meant nothing to the salvation of his or her soul (with respect to the Spirit’s unseen work.) Moreover, nothing will mean anything in that regard until that one acknowledges their deep sinfulness and rebellion against God. We were made for God and God’s love, but we, as Jeremiah has beautifully stated it, “…have turned [our] backs toward [the Lord] and not [our] faces” (2:27).
So it becomes our responsibility to explain that coming to Christ marks a renaissance, a quickening to life, a spiritual transformation that purposes to dominate everything about a person. It is more than getting one’s life together or “turning over a new leaf,” for one cannot ascertain God except the Holy Spirit gives light whereby to see. When this light does come, the first thing one will see is the disease of sin that destroys; the next thing will be the remedy, Jesus the Savior.
Why Being Good Isn’t Enough
Until we present a full call to repentance we accept the charge of Dietrich Bonhoeffer that we offer only a “cheap grace” to the sinner. The grace we invite the sinner to accept is characterized as being cheap because it entails a convert merely holding to rules and regulations—going through the motions of being saved and doing church—rather than one’s radical self-denial and death to sinful ways to take up the cross of Christ. Such a grace only cumbersomely gets one through the door of faith, then, woefully, continues without effective discipleship.
Again, until we present an unswerving call to repentance, we will deceive men and women that their faith is genuine when they actually stand in need of full conversion. Bonhoeffer also makes a powerful point that a believer’s life and righteousness is possessed only in association with their fellowship with Christ. He says, “…righteousness can never become an objective criterion to be applied at will.” This is why merely good people don’t get to Heaven. Our best efforts and supreme moral good is worthless to make any difference for our salvation (Isa. 64:6)—and so is a righteousness given by God should we ever try to divorce it from Jesus. The righteousness which is from God ceases to be when we try to take credit for it. Jesus is everything in the ongoing conversion process, for even our confession is by the Holy Spirit.
Following His Lead
Now I’d like to transition from the condition of the lost and our preaching to some matters that determine our evangelistic effectiveness. First, we must recognize the Holy Spirit’s leadership in the conversion process. As much as I believe in outreach and missions, we must avoid an imperial attitude that makes us regard the unsaved as pawns to be captured or won instead of sinful souls in need God’s salvation. Too often that zeal is short-sighted (saving souls is easily done) or comes with wrong motives (numbers for our crusades and membership).
Real evangelism that brings souls to Jesus is not centered in how we can ‘work it’ but in the power of the Spirit to draw men and deliver them from death to life. We must preach simply and dependent on the Spirit’s help resisting the need for tactic or gimmick to lure people to the message. Now I’m not the biggest fan of witnessing campaigns…a much more conservative evangelical in this area than some. Still, I believe that an integrated faith in one’s life is important. I will never be ashamed of professing my faith in Jesus Christ before the world and sharing how his life makes every difference in mine. I think the Holy Spirit can sometimes use this better than our agendas to “win” the lost.
It’s important to pause here to say that prayer is our first labor. We must pray earnestly for the sinner. We must ask God to develop his heart for the lost within us. He longs to save and commune with those who are carried away in darkness. We must ask God to open their minds to the truth and to make their hearts receptive; to set us in their paths that we might share a word of encouragement with them whether it’s accepted or rejected. It should tear our hearts to learn that one has passed into eternity without Christ.
Just as following the Holy Spirit’s leadership is important, so is being sensitive to his unseen action among us. We can never be sure who the Spirit is dealing with, but we can be sure that he is moving in hearts around us because we labor in prayer. In this way he precedes us.
Note: It is not for us to assume that just because someone we’ve witnessed to is apparently receptive he or she is ready to confess Christ. The nicest people can be the most resistant to God. But could it not also be true that the one that fights and rejects us does so because he or she has been resisting the Spirit of Truth already whispering in the ear? Expect the Spirit before you ever open your mouth!
Aiding the Spirit
Now if giving way to the Spirit’s leadership is to help ourselves labor easier, then our procedures and support systems must be our way of helping the Spirit. Let me explain what I mean.
First, we need to see the entrance into the life of faith as a process. One of the most intimate and powerful baptism experiences that I’ve witnessed occurred when I lived in Japan. It involved a Japanese man with whom I shared budding friendship. His wife was a believer but he was not. He had long been attending Alpha meetings, a Bible-based discipleship support group. I came to the church in time to witness my friend’s baptism and announcement of faith in Jesus. It was a deeply moving experience.
My friend’s coming to faith didn’t produce my belief in faith as a process; rather it was the gift of God to me to witness what I had always felt was true about it. Jesus conveys this in his parable of the seed in Mark 4:26-29. Yes, I believe that salvation can be instant and genuine. People all the time come to church resistant to God until the Spirit suddenly opens their eyes and causes them to see Jesus.
But many of our churches don’t possess enough insight to see that the ‘one stop shop’ approach will not (and does not) reach everyone. I hate it when I hear preachers going through the formula—“Do you believe that Jesus is the Son of God; that he died and rose from the dead…” Well sure they do and many people do, but it has done nothing to save them so far. (They’re dead, remember?)
And we can be sure that our formulaic approach and come-to-Jesus-right-now attitude will always fail should we maintain that the process 1) hinges on a mere decision for Christ (usually meaning all one has ever heard about Jesus) that can 2) be so easily made by the person having no discipleship precede conversion and certainly none following it. Lord, help us!
So we lend assistance to the Spirit (1 Cor. 3:9) when we take the time to answer the questions of those who genuinely inquire of the Christian life. People have questions and we should respect their right and need to have answers. Could we go further and say that the Holy Spirit himself places questions in people’s hearts? That he understands that the personalities of some need questions answered before they will unlock their hearts to him? Of course he does because he created us all and knows us perfectly. This is partly the understanding of 2 Corinthians 10:3-6 when Paul speaks of “casting down imaginations”—arguments and theories. This is what the Holy Spirit seeks to do: dismantle the structures Satan has erected in people’s minds that cause them to rebel against God (2 Cor. 4:3-4).
Our churches have to be sure that their methods are not blocking the work the Spirit may be establishing in people’s hearts. This even means we need more intimate prayer settings in our churches where workers in our services can explain the gospel and help seekers understand the life they’re choosing. It means that we need more cell groups and focused support groups, like Alpha, that embrace those with questions about God, the church, and spirituality.
(Let me stop and say this: Evangelism is an off-campus event. We are to go seek and save. No more seeker-sensitive services! The worship service is meant to edify the body of believers.)
A Rationally Viable Faith
It is a sobering thought that some people do not shadow the door of the church because it doesn’t meet them where they are. Some perspective here: Our world is a highly advanced place these days, and we (Americans) live in the most advanced nation on earth and in its history. The task for us Christians is to be able to clearly speak the unchanging and powerful gospel in the agora, the public square that might be better reckoned today as the marketplace of ideas.
Many out in this bazaar will not enter our churches without a higher level approach to the Christian system. So right here we must toss away the what-worked-in-times-past approach because it won’t fit the bill today or with all people (Mark 2:22). But although we preach an unchanging gospel, it doesn’t mean that the system of Christian faith is outmoded as many in our culture have written it off to be.
Two thousand years of church history has made the Christian faith more than ready to answer the complex questions of our advancing society. Most of our churches focus squarely on the devotional and primary aspects of the gospel message and forsake the church’s voice in the global and secular scheme of things. But the church has something to say about the broader society and matters like environmentalism, biomedical ethics, technology, and an array of topics and issues that have often been viewed as being irrelevant to our holy purposes.
In the same vein, sometimes we’re just not prepared. The Christian faith bears a very real rational aspect. It is a theological system as well as an ethical and philosophical system of belief that offers a full-spectrum perspective on the human experience. These kinds of intellectual discussions and forums must also be hosted by our churches because they too belong to the Church and have strongly existed in it since its spread throughout the Roman Empire. The church should always have a voice about current topics. We must appreciate our earliest heritage because there would simply be no church today without the rational prowess of the earliest defenders. We can only overlook intellectualism in our armory of spiritual weapons.
It is here that we discover the leading front of the battle between light and darkness. The way we think affects generations. After all, God loves these men and women, too, and needs the Albert Einsteins and Steve Jobs of the world. They are the Apostle Pauls and C.S. Lewises who could do more for the kingdom than we all combined! We fear these deeper subjects because we feel that they’re irrelevant or unnecessary in the saving of souls but we err. For goodness sake, we oppose anyone who would stand in the pulpit and preach theology! No, every person won’t need deep exposition to open their eyes to God but many do, especially today, and often those who could draw scores to God with their own salvation.
So just because these subjects are deeply rational and perhaps new to us doesn’t mean that we should avoid them. Think on it: Do we just let the intellectual masses of youth streaming out of our universities go headlong into hell? No! God needs their minds, their youth, and their fervor. Each of us can only benefit from a philosophy or apologetics text. Not only would we be made better Christians by it, but God sends us—guess where?—back into the marketplace; this time you’re a sharper tool (no pun intended!) The question is not if we can communicate Christ to the world but how willing might we be to do everything in our power to do so.
Party Time!
“Awake thou that sleepest, and arise from the dead, and Christ shall give thee light” (Eph. 5:14, KJV). When God awakens that baby from death, we should be the ready life support staff of spiritual physicians equipped with every tool in our power to make the work of the Spirit complete. The Spirit has done the hard work. He has breathed new life; now we work on the vitals.
With that said, evangelism is necessary and discipleship is not optional (Matt. 28:19). In fact, discipleship occurs on both ends of the evangelism process. Our manner should be direct, simple, enabling, and thoughtful. And when that one finally says Yes! to Jesus, with genuine conviction, we can truly call in the party because that child will live to never die again. Isn’t that great? We have awoken, once and for all, to life everlasting. Let us examine ourselves, for we are each God’s ambassadors (2 Cor. 5:20).
Source: Bonhoeffer, Dietrich. The Cost of Discipleship. New York: The MacMillan Company, 1968.
The parable of the sower is rich teaching. Jesus tells the story of a farmer who sows seed, and he focuses on what happens with the seed based on four conditions where it lands: the pathway, the sandy soil, the weeds, and the cultivated ground.
Then, Jesus offers a spiritual rendition of the scenarios. (Read it in Matthew 13:18-23.) He contrasts the effects of the pathway, sandy soil, and weed-ridden ground with the cultivated land to explain why the seed will not grow. His discourse is somewhat inductive as well, as though to clarify that the word of God flourishes only in good ground—resultant of deeply planted seed, wholesome soil, and weeded ground.
But there’s more.
Seeing What’s Possible
There is none of us who reads this parable and does not say in our hearts, “I want to be good ground.” It is because we truly desire to please God and know that we worship him best with the beauty of holy lives. Yet the holy life is gradually gained, or lifelong in scope. We live in a constant tug-o-war of yielding to the Holy Spirit or our carnal desires.
This is what makes the parable so pertinent to our devotion: it envisions ideal spirituality. It shows us a picture of the heart in which faith is permitted to deeply implant itself and flourish.
A parable is a comparison, and Jesus used them masterfully. I do not seek to explain this parable; instead, I wish to draw attention to Jesus’s pedagogy. What is interesting with the sower parable is his use of contrast to create an appreciable and lasting point in the minds of his hearers. He leads us through the three adverse conditions to help us better understand the character of a good heart.
I think that’s important because sometimes envisioning the ideal is difficult. We can theoretically understand ideal conditions but have no clue about how to attain them or have no expectation because we’ve always lived in defeated circumstances where the ideal was merely surviving, not thriving.
Could I Ever…
My sister relocated with her job and purchased a home with a large backyard that was completely overgrown with weeds, thicket, and trees. I would often stand on the deck and imagine what the yard would actually look like with grass and recreational spaces.
It is not unlike outsiders who want to know more about Christ but doubt they could ever live as a Christian. It is not unlike Christians who wonder how they might ever overcome certain sin patterns or live a joyfully devout spiritual life. So God envisions it for us. He has shown us the fruit of the Spirit, the love of God, Spirit-empowered ministry, and Jesus Christ himself.
It is an act of his grace to first say, “Let me show you why this isn’t working for you.” Let me show you why you’re frustrated in this area…why your efforts consistently fail here. It is because (back to the parable) this is unwholesome soil; this is weeds; and this isn’t even planted. “But now let me show you what you’ve really been wanting!”
You see, God gets us to desire his vision for us by using where we are to point the way to something better. We often dream and say, “Now wouldn’t it be good if…” To that God says, “That’s it!—and it is for you.”
And what is for us? A fertile heart with a bumper crop of righteousness. It will be the result of our being conscientiously introspective, determined to please the Lord, and open to the Spirit’s work in our hearts.
In Mark 10, after the rich young ruler parted ways with Jesus, the Lord exclaims, “How hard it is for the rich to enter the kingdom of God!” (v. 23) Having everything in this life, we could end up bankrupt in the next because our hearts are spiritually unkempt, thus unproductive.
But Jesus didn’t end it there: “With man this is impossible, but not with God; all things are possible” (v. 27). God has the power to make us see differently, to change our minds, to help us groom our hearts for godliness.
What is it that makes the God of the Bible greater than all others?
Ever since humankind fell into sin, however it occurred at the dawn of human existence, God, who anticipated it all, responded in un-godlike fashion, if we believe the historical characterizations of deities.
He did not become intemperately furious and rain down destruction to wipe humans from the face of the earth; he did not scorn his creation and leave them without divine support. Instead, he chose to communicate himself and a grand design for restoring the race that was blind to its need.
The salvific nature of God—that he redeems—is among his greatest characteristics. God has committed himself to a plan of reconciling all things to match his wonder. No other god takes the time to deal with sinners more than to exact punishment upon them. But God seems to specialize in processing and refashioning what is broken and repudiated and presenting it to a watching world gloriously restored.
Is this not the story of so many biblical characters? Better still, could it not be your story? Our life’s journey bears the twists and turns that only bend at the permissive nod of a God who loves us extravagantly. We climb mountains and plow through valleys, experience the heat of drought and the refreshment of the stream—are they all not teaching moments? Do we merely live and die? I dare not believe that life is a circle lacking of real purpose in my experiences.
Contrarily, I know that every experience builds me in some way and anticipates a greater moment, not only for me but also for those who should enter my life. Every good and bad moment is a teaching moment of how to ride the waves being disciplined and true to God. You see, God redeems the brokenness of our lives and life itself.
Proverbs 4:18: “The path of the righteous is like the morning sun, shining ever brighter till the full light of day.” This verse is proof to me of God’s purposeful intention in our lives. The one who stands and raises his or her hands atop the mountain is the one who with strength and determination, cuts and sweat, conquered not only the mountain but every mental foe that threatened their resolve.
When that person takes in the view, perhaps a sunrise, they cherish every moment in the process it took to get there. Our redeeming God is eager to get our attention so we don’t waste our time. Many people don’t have a clue that they’re on any kind of journey or, sadly, don’t wish to climb the mountain. Some mountains don’t move because they’re not meant to move—we are. But it is never about the mountain.
In the end, the joy belongs to those of us who ascended. We may not have been perfect, but that certainly wasn’t the point. It was that we were committed to God and loved him back as richly as he first loved us. We acknowledged him and his plan in every high and low of life, and we served others with the knowledge we were blessed to experience. His reward to us is a view from the top, an uninhibited look at his goodness, the grace that all along pushed us higher and higher. This is the glory of God.
One day while on a train, I paused and took in the splendor of the sun. The colors of the land seemed to come alive in the light, but the strength of the light itself was stunning. I thought to myself, How the sun rules the day! Then another thought interrupted— No, the sun is the day!
And I saw God in that moment.
I perceived him no longer as one who acts, as though he loves and gives what is good. Instead, I beheld in that bath of light his perfection: that he does not love as much as he is love itself; that he does not give the good, for he is goodness itself. I understood that God wills himself to me.
It is a hard concept to humans for whom virtue must be cultivated and so earned. But God is holy, utterly different, inherently perfect, and unfathomable. What more can be said of him than he himself is the ultimate reward?
The word of God so aptly came to mind: “This is the message we have heard from him and declare to you: God is light; in him there is no darkness at all” (1 John 1:5). A natural moment had become a spiritual illustration and alter to worship.
Later I read Albert Barnes’ comments on the verse, which are simple and profound:
John here says that ‘God is light’—not the light, or a light, but light itself; that is, he is himself all light, and is the source and fountain of light in all worlds. He is perfectly pure, without any admixture of sin. He has all knowledge, with no admixture of ignorance on any subject. He is infinitely happy, with nothing to make him miserable. He is infinitely true, never stating or countenancing error; he is blessed in all his ways, never knowing the darkness of disappointments and adversity.
I arrived on campus a week early for leadership training and to help move in new students soon to arrive. On the day freshmen flooded the campus, I noticed a tall, gangly black guy, very peculiar because he was albino and had chiseled facial features. He dressed like an older gentleman and appeared to have stepped right out of the 70s. I wondered who might get him as a roommate.
It was a real surprise seeing him moved into my room later that day. His name was James, and he was an interesting fellow. James was a quiet and pensive person and slightly shy. Staunchly conservative, he often ranted about the way things should be when issues raised his ire.
But James also had a lighter side. He was funny to watch when something excited him because he was prone to giddiness, and he sounded like Squidward from SpongeBob SquarePants when he laughed. He loved pizza and was a movie buff. Bond was his man.
On campus, James hung out with a bunch the very replica of Fat Albert’s misfit friends of which he was the leader. He stuck out anywhere he went, more for his beanpole look and adornment in his favorite burgundy or green suit and Gatsby cap—yes,on campus. I would often chuckle watching him go to and fro.
But James had an issue. Perhaps I should say that I too had the issue since it was the second time I had to experience this type of thing at college. James had bad body odor. I suspected that it may have resulted from some type of problem in his body. My first roommate two years prior had awful odor, but he was merely unhygienic. I confronted him and the problem ceased. This was something I wasn’t sure could go away.
The odor was bad—putrid bad. I would walk in the room and detect a strong mothball scent and then the smell of decay. So when he was out of the room, I would sniff around and investigate. His clothes were my red flag that this was a personal issue because James wasn’t an unclean person.
I sat in class one winter day wearing my favorite sweater and suddenly smelled James’s scent reeking from me! I knew then that I had no other option but to confront him. Soon others on the floor took notice, and these guys weren’t the most considerate ones to handle a situation like this. I had to watch out for my own pride, too. I was the floor chaplain. Peers and other student leaders came to my room for different reasons. I didn’t want them to think I stank.
I built my nerve and decided to talk with James. It was easier to do with this roommate, but, as always, I first prayed for the right opportunity. I knew without doubt that this was an issue in his life; it was obvious to everyone else, but he never acknowledged it. I remember meeting his parents those first few days and observed how closely they kept tabs on him and all the more now with him alone halfway across the country. There was much he wasn’t saying, and I knew I had to cover him.
This is when the situation became less about James and more a search for trustworthiness and authentic care in me. I became empathetic and made myself feel the snickers and stares he drew, to feel what it’s like to be the misfit and last man chosen on the team every time. The one forced to walk alone; forced to love libraries and bookstores (because books don’t judge); forced to share yourself in fragments as you’ve had to teach and reteach yourself who to trust in what might as well be a jungle of suspects, Christian or not.
No one else was thinking this way and I knew it. Not even the group he hung out with on the floor was reaching out to him. I had to do it, not because I was Chaplain or older than everyone else. I knew that people could be cruel and cruel motives have devastating consequences. Sometimes neglect alone does it.
People don’t handle the truth about themselves well. We all have deep-seated issues and flaws that others may know or that we know about others. But we don’t glibly use that information because it’s sensitive and highly charged. People shut down when they are psychologically denuded and made to lose face. They get scared and fidgety and depressed. They fly off the deep end and kill people. James’s B.O. became a much smaller matter after I considered the stakes.
I trusted God for the right moment and it presented itself. I told James about the odor and asked him if he had an issue in his body. (Too private?) I offered some possible solutions to our problem. He mostly nodded. Then, I told him what my real concern was: him not being hurt. He opened up to me and explained that he had always been picked on for how he looked and said he knew about the odor.
In the end, it was meaningful to him that I had been honest, and he was appreciative for how I handled the situation. He controlled the problem better, too. He became very loyal to me his chaplain and roommate. The lesson has profoundly shaped my character.
Does this photo take your breath away? CC BY-NC, plousia, Flickr
Today is special. In fact, this entry is special because I deviate from protocol. I try to compose in a way that removes time stamps—recently I…yesterday was…last year…or simply today. But this day, August 3rd, is especially meaningful to me. It is the day in my history when I became fully assured of my salvation. In a sense, it is my spiritual birthday, although I frown on dating salvation.
Please indulge me for a moment of reflection. My father died before I turned five years-old. Faith was very important to my mother, and she kept all five of her children—ages 17 to 3—in church. I joke that I was born on the front pew! But God gripped my heart from the dawning of cognizance in me. I still remember my brother and me deciding to go forward to receive Christ.
From that moment, I identified with all-things-Jesus. I admired my pastor and knew that I wanted to do what he did. I preached fervently around the house, on the front and back porches…the old car in the backyard, and in the schoolyard at recess. I drew crowds in the neighborhood and a tearful drunk to the front door of my home. I earned a moniker as the “Kid Preacher” that still remains.
I walked conscientious of my faith as I grew up. But as I approached my teen years, I became troubled, not knowing if I was truly saved. I couldn’t stand it any longer one Sunday. I sat on the back pew after the morning service deliberating. I asked a church buddy sitting next to me, “Do you wanna go get saved?” He said no, but my heart was fixed.
I met my pastor descending the podium, just after 3 p.m. (yes, church was long back then!), and we asked God to come in. My pastor was elated and returned to the mic and announced what had just occurred. I couldn’t contain my emotions. I recall Deacon Brown, Mother Lewis, Sister Fitzgerald, and Sister Patterson, all now in Heaven, gathered around me sharing the love of God.
See why this day means so much to me?
Children Matter To God
I reflect on this moment to express a concern, also. Now in my heart, I know that I entered the kingdom when I was about five, but because my church placed little emphasis on childhood salvation, I had no assurance and encountered doubt at 12, unnecessarily so. Today I say that August 3rd was the day I “became assured” or became a “student of the Word” because my spiritual discipline did become thereafter what it continues to be today. But I don’t want any kid to have to experience the uncertainty that I did.
Churches and leaders must see that children mean just as much to God as the drug addict in the alley or the spiritualist across seas. Their salvation is incredibly important because they are not only sinners by default, but they also have not yet had to deal with temptation and vice. We work from an advantage when as loving and godly parents and leaders we teach kids at their level about a benevolent heavenly Father, his expectations of them, and how to be devoted to him.
This is not brainwashing, as some argue. We believe it is spiritually necessary, but it is also what any parent of any religion or value-system traditionally (and naturally) does, which is disclose or instill the principles by which they themselves live. It doesn’t negate the fact that a time will come, as we all know, sooner or later, when that person will decide for themselves whether they will abide by their foundational knowledge or go a different way.
We teach Christian principals because they come from God and because we know that they are tremendously valuable in their essence. And we had better know that if we don’t turn people’s attention to God early, especially as kids, the forecast gets murkier. We will pray easier if we pray earlier.
This certainly doesn’t negate the power of God to save at any period of life. But if the Holy Spirit does the hard work by bringing souls to life—any soul, we must assist him by being the life support team conscientious about its mission. For some of us, however, this simply boils down to what we believe about the necessity and efficacy of childhood salvation.
Churches need to see their outreach programs beginning at knee-high level…well ankle-biter. Most churches won’t have the budget for major children’s facilities, the glitziest productions, and paid staff, but I didn’t have that either. I only had a conviction in my heart, and this is the basic that’s important: Gospel.
We must affirm childhood salvation. This is a ministry of stooping that we’ll be happy about in the long-run. Yes, Jesus loves the little children.
A 'Mike' for Christ 