I have read now several examples of men and women of faith who, not knowing where they were going, yet placed their lives in God’s hands alone and went. Jim Elliot. Amy Carmichael. Gladys Aylward. Hudson Taylor. Brother Andrew. The disciplined devotion of their lives has floored me again and again. Such determined discipleship, such child-like faith as was theirs I would be hard-put to find in live, present example today.
Why? What has changed so much over the years that we do not now live and trust as they lived and trusted? Is it God Who has changed? Assuredly not! But I think, in America at the least, it is this: We have at our fingertips, so very easily within our grasp, almost so that we do not even need to take the effort to reach for it and it is already ours, the means and the power to rescue us from almost any calamity. And, while these things may or may not be evil in and of themselves, they tempt us away from full, unadulterated trust in God. For my own life, I have recently become aware of one such area in my life where, for all these years, I was not trusting God at all, and I never knew it! What made me aware? The life example of one of God’s servants who lived several hundred years ago.
So, first, I must press upon you books. Any sort of book you can get into your hands that will commend to you a Godly life well-lived. The Bible would be my first choice. And following that, stories of the entire host of those warriors who have gone before us into battle and fought victoriously for the advance of the Heavenly Kingdom.
But this is not enough. This is nowhere near enough. All the knowledge in the world is not sufficient to save us from the disgrace that surely waits us if we do not wake up from our slumber and march out into this world that slides distressingly nearer and nearer to the gates of Hell.
I implore you, I exhort you, and in all other terms that will let you know how very strongly I urge you (if I could, I would command, but I shall leave that word for the Spirit of God to speak to your spirit): Church, cast off from the shores you’ve anchored yourself to in your attempt to keep in safe harbor. Set the sail, throw off all hindrances, and set yourself fully in the hands of Him Whom the winds and the seas obey. The great men and women of faith from Hebrews chapter 11, the disciples who walked with Jesus, the courageous missionaries of the past - these all call to us across the ages from fiery souls that were not dampened by any confidence in mere human aid. They marched out into the great desert that is an entire world lost without drinking from the Living Water, trusting the Maker of the skies to send the rain and not attempting to create their own. They did not seek to pitch their tents by the lake so that they might never be in need. If you would be like them - if you would see the Kingdom of God advance - if you would have your own soul rise to praise Him Whose you are - in short, if you confess yourself a child of God and would live for the sake of your Savior - then you can do, must do, no less.
The world dies for lack of such as these.
Monday, February 9, 2009
Friday, February 6, 2009
From the Life of J. Hudson Taylor
-An Excerpt from Hudson Taylor (Hudson Taylor, pages 116-118)-
Among the passengers on board the boat was one intelligent man, who in the course of his travels had been a good deal abroad, and had even visited England, where he went by the name of Peter. As might be expected, he had heard something of the Gospel, but had never experienced its saving power. On the previous evening I had drawn him into earnest converse about his soul’s salvation. The man listened with attention, and was even moved to tears, but still no definite result was apparent. I was pleased, therefore, when he asked to be allowed to accompany me, and to hear me preach.
I went into the cabin of the boat to prepare tracts and books for distribution on landing with my Chinese friend, when suddenly I was startled by a splash and a cry from without. I sprang on deck, and took in the situation at a glance. Peter was gone! The other men were all there, on board, looking helplessly at the spot where he had disappeared, but making no effort to save him. A strong wind was carrying the junk rapidly forward in spite of a steady current in the opposite direction, and the low-lying, shrubless shore afforded no landmark to indicate how far we had left the drowning man behind.
I instantly let down the sail and leaped overboard in the hope of finding him. Unsuccessful, I looked around in agonizing suspense, and saw close to me a fishing boat with a peculiar drag-net furnished with hooks, which I knew would bring him up.
“Come!” I cried, as hope revived in my heart. “Come and drag over this spot directly; a man is drowning just here!”
“Veh bin” (It is not convenient), was the answer.
“Don’t talk of convenience!” cried I in agony; “a man is drowning, I tell you!”
“We are busy fishing,” they responded, “and cannot come.”
“Never mind your fishing,” I said, “I will give you more money than many a day’s fishing will bring; only come - come at once!”
“How much money will you give us?”
“We cannot stay to discuss that now! Come, or it will be too late. I will give you five dollars” (then worth about thirty shillings in English money).
“We won’t do it for that,” replied the men. “Give us twenty dollars, and we will drag.”
“I do not possess so much; do come quickly, and I will give you all I have!”
“How much may that be?”
“I don’t know exactly, about fourteen dollars.”
At last, but even then slowly enough, the boat was paddled over, and the net let down. Less than a minute sufficed to bring up the body of the missing man. The fishermen were clamorous and indignant because their exorbitant demand was delayed while efforts at resuscitation were being made. But all was in vain - life was extinct.
To myself this incident was profoundly sad and full of significance, suggesting a far more mournful reality. Were not those fishermen actually guilty of this poor Chinaman’s death, in that they had the means of saving him at hand, if they would but have used them? Assuredly they were guilty. And yet, let us pause ere we pronounce judgment against them, lest a greater than Nathan answer, “Thou art the man.” Is it so hardhearted, so wicked a thing to neglect to save the body? Of how much sorer punishment, then, is he worthy who leaves the soul to perish, and Cain-like says, “Am I my brother’s keeper?” The Lord Jesus commands, commands me, commands you, into all the world, and preach the Gospel to every creature. Shall we say to Him, “No, it is not convenient”?
Among the passengers on board the boat was one intelligent man, who in the course of his travels had been a good deal abroad, and had even visited England, where he went by the name of Peter. As might be expected, he had heard something of the Gospel, but had never experienced its saving power. On the previous evening I had drawn him into earnest converse about his soul’s salvation. The man listened with attention, and was even moved to tears, but still no definite result was apparent. I was pleased, therefore, when he asked to be allowed to accompany me, and to hear me preach.
I went into the cabin of the boat to prepare tracts and books for distribution on landing with my Chinese friend, when suddenly I was startled by a splash and a cry from without. I sprang on deck, and took in the situation at a glance. Peter was gone! The other men were all there, on board, looking helplessly at the spot where he had disappeared, but making no effort to save him. A strong wind was carrying the junk rapidly forward in spite of a steady current in the opposite direction, and the low-lying, shrubless shore afforded no landmark to indicate how far we had left the drowning man behind.
I instantly let down the sail and leaped overboard in the hope of finding him. Unsuccessful, I looked around in agonizing suspense, and saw close to me a fishing boat with a peculiar drag-net furnished with hooks, which I knew would bring him up.
“Come!” I cried, as hope revived in my heart. “Come and drag over this spot directly; a man is drowning just here!”
“Veh bin” (It is not convenient), was the answer.
“Don’t talk of convenience!” cried I in agony; “a man is drowning, I tell you!”
“We are busy fishing,” they responded, “and cannot come.”
“Never mind your fishing,” I said, “I will give you more money than many a day’s fishing will bring; only come - come at once!”
“How much money will you give us?”
“We cannot stay to discuss that now! Come, or it will be too late. I will give you five dollars” (then worth about thirty shillings in English money).
“We won’t do it for that,” replied the men. “Give us twenty dollars, and we will drag.”
“I do not possess so much; do come quickly, and I will give you all I have!”
“How much may that be?”
“I don’t know exactly, about fourteen dollars.”
At last, but even then slowly enough, the boat was paddled over, and the net let down. Less than a minute sufficed to bring up the body of the missing man. The fishermen were clamorous and indignant because their exorbitant demand was delayed while efforts at resuscitation were being made. But all was in vain - life was extinct.
To myself this incident was profoundly sad and full of significance, suggesting a far more mournful reality. Were not those fishermen actually guilty of this poor Chinaman’s death, in that they had the means of saving him at hand, if they would but have used them? Assuredly they were guilty. And yet, let us pause ere we pronounce judgment against them, lest a greater than Nathan answer, “Thou art the man.” Is it so hardhearted, so wicked a thing to neglect to save the body? Of how much sorer punishment, then, is he worthy who leaves the soul to perish, and Cain-like says, “Am I my brother’s keeper?” The Lord Jesus commands, commands me, commands you, into all the world, and preach the Gospel to every creature. Shall we say to Him, “No, it is not convenient”?
Sunday, February 1, 2009
Worthy
There is no worthy deed I can achieve, no grand feat I can perform, no magnificent pursuit I can chase after - even capture! - that will gain me the right to even the smallest amount of favor from the Great I Am. All I do - never mind if you see it as bad or good - must be falseness, foolishness, the most pathetic attempts at righteousness before the Holiness of Jehovah. This in, in part, because of my own lowness. I am formed of dirt, chained to earth, banned from a soaring life in the heavens, and my power to change or elevate my base situation is completely beyond my grasp.
But there is another reason, a more important one, why I deserve no favor, and it is this: the unspeakable Yahweh Himself. The blazing radiance of the King of Heaven - the blinding power burning through the eyes of Creator God and making us all as ashes - the exalted, ineffable holiness of His very Presence - before this, who - who can be worthy? Who can utter so much as a syllable, never mind an entire comprehensible word? Who can open their wide, awe-struck eyes to look around at anything else save the consuming Fire that is the Terror and Glory of His Being?
Now you understand why the fall of Satan was a thing so great, so horrendous, so awful, so unendurable, so shocking. Now you see why the fall of man - our fall - is the same. We took our eyes away from the Glory. We turned our minds from the One Who owns all worth and makes all worth. We dared to name something else glorious equal to or - appallingly! - above the One before Whom everything not only surrenders all worth but disappears entirely.
Do you understand now why earth and sky shall flee from His Presence? Why the Mountain thundered and trembled as He descended to speak to man? Why the seas and skies rage when He rides down on His victorious chariots? They understand the Glory; they understand that they are not worthy. That He looks on us at all is astonishing. That He lets us enter His throne room is outrageous. That He invites us - almost begs us - to enter is very close to scandalizing. That He loves us is . . . well, if it was anyone other than God, it would be impossible. The canyon - the rift, the gulf, the galaxies - between us is too great. But, after all, He is God. Anyone less would have failed. But if God is Yahweh God - and you can be sure He is - then He not only can, He did. He does.
But there is another reason, a more important one, why I deserve no favor, and it is this: the unspeakable Yahweh Himself. The blazing radiance of the King of Heaven - the blinding power burning through the eyes of Creator God and making us all as ashes - the exalted, ineffable holiness of His very Presence - before this, who - who can be worthy? Who can utter so much as a syllable, never mind an entire comprehensible word? Who can open their wide, awe-struck eyes to look around at anything else save the consuming Fire that is the Terror and Glory of His Being?
Now you understand why the fall of Satan was a thing so great, so horrendous, so awful, so unendurable, so shocking. Now you see why the fall of man - our fall - is the same. We took our eyes away from the Glory. We turned our minds from the One Who owns all worth and makes all worth. We dared to name something else glorious equal to or - appallingly! - above the One before Whom everything not only surrenders all worth but disappears entirely.
Do you understand now why earth and sky shall flee from His Presence? Why the Mountain thundered and trembled as He descended to speak to man? Why the seas and skies rage when He rides down on His victorious chariots? They understand the Glory; they understand that they are not worthy. That He looks on us at all is astonishing. That He lets us enter His throne room is outrageous. That He invites us - almost begs us - to enter is very close to scandalizing. That He loves us is . . . well, if it was anyone other than God, it would be impossible. The canyon - the rift, the gulf, the galaxies - between us is too great. But, after all, He is God. Anyone less would have failed. But if God is Yahweh God - and you can be sure He is - then He not only can, He did. He does.
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