That is the question Wesley Duewel asks Christian leaders. He is afraid that we don't. He challenges us by quoting George Whitefield who said, "I am persuaded that the generality of preachers talk of an unknown and unfelt Christ. Many congregations are dead because dead men are preaching to them (Ablaze for God, 121)." I guess Whitefield did not soft peddle the truth.
This quote challenges me. And so does the story that Duewel goes on to share.
A notorious British murderer was sentenced to die. On the morning of his execution the prison chaplain walked beside him to the gallows and routinely read some Bible verses. The prisoner was shocked that the chaplain was so perfunctory, unmoved, and uncompassionate in the shadow of the scaffold. he said to the preacher, 'Sir, if I believed what you say you believe, even if England was covered with broken glass form coast to coast, form shore to shore, I would walk over it--if need be on my hands and knees--and think it worthwhile, just to save one soul from an eternal hell (Ibid.).
Lord, help me to remember that I am preaching in the shadow of the scaffold this weekend. Guard my heart and touch me so that I will not be guilty of preaching an unfelt Christ as a dead man. Lord, I love the people that you have called me to lead. So keep me from that kind spiritual deadness that so often kills congregations. And let us become the kind of people who will crawl over broken glass to save one soul from hell.
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Fears, Tears, and Hard Grace
Today was the big day. My youngest son started school. We had taken all the necessary steps to prepare him. We bought supplies. We took him to school. His brother even gave him the "inside scoop."
And so the day came. We loaded up in the car and laughed all the way to school. We talked about the fun they would have and congratulated the new man to our "going to school" crew. When we arrived at the school, all was well. Their teachers welcomed them in, and other students laughed and greeted each other. Finally it was time to leave--the time I had secretly dreaded all morning. I walked out the door and saw it, I saw the tear start to drop out of his eye. Everything in me wanted to pull him out of school and take him home. But I fought back the urge. I walked over hugged and promised that I would not be far away. Then I walked out, leaving him with fears and tears.
Why did I do such a thing? Am I a hard-hearted, cold-blooded dad? I left him in the uncomfortable place, because I love him. I know that while he is there new worlds will open up to him as he learns to read, write, add, subtract, and think. He will discover hidden glory behind pictures through words. I left him because he will meet new friends and know the joy of playing together. And I left him because one day he will be the big brother, helping his sister on her first day. I left him because I love him. One day he will see that staying was a gift of hard grace.
As I rode to work, I thought about the scene. I realized that the way I had just expressed love to my son is like the way my Heavenly Father expresses love to me. Sometimes I find myself in an uncomfortable place. I am not sure what is going on or what will happen next. I sometimes find myself in an uncomfortable place of fear. And sometimes I push back a tear and wonder if anyone cares. Then in a wonderful time of grace God puts his arm around me and reassures me that he is near. And then he leaves me there. Sometimes I am tempted to question his love. But it is at that moment that God shows his love. He knows that through enduring this new worlds of faith will open up before me. He knows that new vistas of joy come alive in new places. And he knows that on the other side of this I will be able to comfort others with new insight and power. He does not leave me there because he has forgotten me; He leaves me there because he loves me. It is a hard grace, but it is still grace.
Thank you Father, for your unending love that seeks my good in all situations. Teach me to follow your ways, because your ways are filled with love and I will find rest for my soul.
And so the day came. We loaded up in the car and laughed all the way to school. We talked about the fun they would have and congratulated the new man to our "going to school" crew. When we arrived at the school, all was well. Their teachers welcomed them in, and other students laughed and greeted each other. Finally it was time to leave--the time I had secretly dreaded all morning. I walked out the door and saw it, I saw the tear start to drop out of his eye. Everything in me wanted to pull him out of school and take him home. But I fought back the urge. I walked over hugged and promised that I would not be far away. Then I walked out, leaving him with fears and tears.
Why did I do such a thing? Am I a hard-hearted, cold-blooded dad? I left him in the uncomfortable place, because I love him. I know that while he is there new worlds will open up to him as he learns to read, write, add, subtract, and think. He will discover hidden glory behind pictures through words. I left him because he will meet new friends and know the joy of playing together. And I left him because one day he will be the big brother, helping his sister on her first day. I left him because I love him. One day he will see that staying was a gift of hard grace.
As I rode to work, I thought about the scene. I realized that the way I had just expressed love to my son is like the way my Heavenly Father expresses love to me. Sometimes I find myself in an uncomfortable place. I am not sure what is going on or what will happen next. I sometimes find myself in an uncomfortable place of fear. And sometimes I push back a tear and wonder if anyone cares. Then in a wonderful time of grace God puts his arm around me and reassures me that he is near. And then he leaves me there. Sometimes I am tempted to question his love. But it is at that moment that God shows his love. He knows that through enduring this new worlds of faith will open up before me. He knows that new vistas of joy come alive in new places. And he knows that on the other side of this I will be able to comfort others with new insight and power. He does not leave me there because he has forgotten me; He leaves me there because he loves me. It is a hard grace, but it is still grace.
Thank you Father, for your unending love that seeks my good in all situations. Teach me to follow your ways, because your ways are filled with love and I will find rest for my soul.
Monday, August 2, 2010
Artifical Rest and the Peace of Christ
I am tired. I mean I am really tired, and I am sleepy too. Ironically I am tired after I tried to get some help for sleep. You see last night I had a sleep study. It was quite an experience. After an introductory video, I was take to a room that looked a lot like a normal bedroom. I waited until the technician hooked me up to what seemed like a thousand electronic leads. Plastered across my head and face were little to help monitor my sleep. When all this was finished, I was supposed to go to sleep.
I tried. I really did. But it took forever to go to sleep. Besides the unnatural feel of the wires I was out of my element. The place was strange compared to my home. It was comfortable, but it was not the comfort of home. In addition, I saw a little light facing me. It was a camera. Now I was not only hooked up to a bunch of wires in a strange place, but I also had the extra pressure that comes when sleep becomes a performance. In the end I slept, but I did not feel like a slept. So today I am tired.
Something similar often happens in our souls. We found ourselves in a world of evaluation. People judge; people watch; people talk. All of this conspires to rob us of rest. In response we often live the life of a performer. We forget authenticity and play for the camera. All the while peace is gone while we put on the show.
The good news is that Jesus offers us a different path--a path soul-rest. He calls us to come to Him when we labor and become heavy laden and promises rest. He removes the yoke of critical eyes and replaces it with a yoke of joyful submission. He relieves us of the rest of playing for the crowed by shrinking the audience to one. And that audience of one is please with us because we are covered in the performance of His perfect Son. Now we do not have to play the part. We simply trust in the part he played for us. And in the end we find rest for our souls (see Matt. 11:28ff.).
Today I am tired, but today I feel at peace. My body wants sleep, but my soul has found rest. I am sleepy but happy. Praise God that artificial rest can be replaced by the peace of Christ.
I tried. I really did. But it took forever to go to sleep. Besides the unnatural feel of the wires I was out of my element. The place was strange compared to my home. It was comfortable, but it was not the comfort of home. In addition, I saw a little light facing me. It was a camera. Now I was not only hooked up to a bunch of wires in a strange place, but I also had the extra pressure that comes when sleep becomes a performance. In the end I slept, but I did not feel like a slept. So today I am tired.
Something similar often happens in our souls. We found ourselves in a world of evaluation. People judge; people watch; people talk. All of this conspires to rob us of rest. In response we often live the life of a performer. We forget authenticity and play for the camera. All the while peace is gone while we put on the show.
The good news is that Jesus offers us a different path--a path soul-rest. He calls us to come to Him when we labor and become heavy laden and promises rest. He removes the yoke of critical eyes and replaces it with a yoke of joyful submission. He relieves us of the rest of playing for the crowed by shrinking the audience to one. And that audience of one is please with us because we are covered in the performance of His perfect Son. Now we do not have to play the part. We simply trust in the part he played for us. And in the end we find rest for our souls (see Matt. 11:28ff.).
Today I am tired, but today I feel at peace. My body wants sleep, but my soul has found rest. I am sleepy but happy. Praise God that artificial rest can be replaced by the peace of Christ.
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