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Partially edited/comment/revisions welcomed
MADE IN HIS IMAGE
CHAPTER ONE
“God’s intention
is your potential.”
The Archangel
Gabriel (c.a. 1978)
In 1978, my wife, Bonnie, and me were assigned to the Philippines by the
Foreign Missions Department of our denomination. My
responsibilities were to coordinator the radio and television ministries
for the denomination, and to serve as adjunct professor in Christian
Apologetics at the Far East Advanced School of Theology (F.E.A.S.T.),
located in the Metro-Manila area. Shortly after arriving, I
began to have an overwhelming urge to write. At times the desire was
so intense that it felt almost like a Divine mandate
Eventually, I gave in, and set the alarm clock for 5:30 a.m. for the next
morning. The new project was well under way by 6:00 a. m.
Two hours later the floor next to the desk was littered with wads of
discarded typing paper. Chapel services were scheduled to start
shortly, and not one word seemed worth keeping. Desperately, a
quick prayer was offered for just one sentence to get the book started.
(Somewhere I had heard Truman Capote — of all people! — state that if he
just had one sentence a day, he considered it a profitable day of
writing.) Immediately, the words “God’s intention is your
potential.” came to mind, and I quickly typed them down.
Leaving the sheet of paper in the typewriter I hurriedly ran upstairs,
dressed, and my wife, Bonnie, and I were out the door in less than ten
minutes.
When we arrived at the seminary chapel only two seats were available
— one in the back of the sanctuary, and the other on the front row.
Bonnie motioned for me to take the front seat as she settled into the back
one. I sat down just as Vern McKinney, the President, was
introducing the speaker. “Friends, this morning,” he said,
rather soberly, “I want to introduce to you Pastor Roland Buck from Boise,
Idaho. He is a man who comes with high recommendations,
including one from our General Superintendent, Dr. Thomas Zimmerman.
. . .” As I snuggled comfortably in my seat to enjoy the
morning sermon I was suddenly jolted into a state of incredulity when
Reverend McKinney announced, “As some of you may not know, Pastor Buck has
had several angelic visitations, and I for one would like to hear more
about them.”
I began to look around. The faculty, usually the first to
detect heresy, remained stoic. The room grew quiet as Pastor
Buck stood silently at the pulpit. Tears began to slowly
coarse down his cheeks. I surveyed the congregation for their
reactions. Everyone seemed thoroughly engrossed with the
proceedings. Surely, this man must be insane, I thought, and I
am the only one with sense enough to detect it.
Initially, the whole episode saddened me. Within a few
seconds, however, my emotions quickly turned to anger. I felt
betrayed by the president, the faculty, and most of all by my
denomination. How could they endorse such an obvious religious
kook? It all seemed so unreal. For the moment,
however, I was stuck.
At that point, Pastor Buck reached into his pocket and pulled out a spiral
notebook. As he began to thumb through its pages he explained
that he had not intended to say anything about his encounters with angels,
and would, therefore, share only a couple of incidents. He then
prefixed his remarks by stating that one of the angels to whom he had
spoken shared with him the events at the fall of the walls of Jericho
— I believe he said the angel’s name was Coroni, which further irritated
me, if for no other reason than it was not a Biblical name.
In any event, I had previously researched the subject of the Battle of
Jericho, and was confident that Pastor Buck would surely trip himself up
on the subject, since this biblical story presents a baffling
archeological problem. Most Evangelicals are unaware of the
fact that the fall of Jericho by all archeological accounts should have
actually taken place several hundred years prior to when the Scriptures
indicate that it did. The remains of the wall itself are
buried far too deep into the earth to have occurred when most evangelical
scholars say that it fell. Further, I know of no conservative
scholar who has successfully defended Scripture on this point.
Interestingly enough, however, both liberals and conservatives agree that
what ever caused the walls to fall down must have been cataclysmic since
the earth is greatly impacted beneath the original wall. Most
scholars attribute this to an earthquake, which caused the walls to
accelerate downward with tremendous force and weight, but conservatives
are unable to explain why they lay for the most part in a strata of dirt
that is dated several hundred years earlier than the biblical account.
So, I waited
In a side comment, Pastor Buck began by stating that he had asked one of
the angels how angels traveled so fast. The angel answered by
saying that man had discovered that E=MC2, and understood how
to turn matter into energy. But God was also able to reverse
the process. This permitted angels to travel as energy, and
then convert back into matter, then back into energy, at will.
(Naturally, this allowed them to travel at the speed of light.
Technically, as I understand it, if a train could travel at the speed of
light, its beacon would project itself forward at an additional 186,000
miles per second. So, theoretically, at least, speed has no
limit. Mind you, I did not get that from an angel. It
came from some physics book I read once.)
Then Pastor Buck went on to relate that Coroni had shared with him the
story of the Battle of Jericho, and had stated that the angels were
commanded to cover the top of the walls and push them into the ground when
Joshua gave the signal. Now, let me pause long enough to say that
the details of this story are not given in Scripture, but I do know that
the Hebrew indicates that the walls were made flat, and that the
soldiers went straight forward. This would indicate, at
least to my mind, that they did not have to climb over rubble as we so
often think, but rather actually walked across a smooth surface.
If this is true, could that smooth surface have been the top of the walls
of Jericho? Furthermore, this would also explain why the ground was
impacted underneath the stones.
Now, for the skeptical scholar, this explanation proves nothing, but it
seems to be one of the best explanation I have heard, outside of the
liberal's earthquake theory. This so-called angelic
explanation alone, however, was not enough to convince me that he had
actually talked to angels. What came next did however cause me
to reevaluate my obstinacy.
As I sat there, Pastor Buck then looked straight at me and said, “Here let
me read you something which Gabriel said to me recently.” He then
ran his finger down the page opened before him and said, “He it is.
Gabriel said, ‘God’s intention is your potential.’” And with that he
closed the notebook, pointed at me and said, “And that’s enough for a
book.”
Needless to say, I sat in rapt attention
for the rest of the sermon.
On the way home, Bonnie remarked that she had taken notes. So
I asked her to read them back to me. When she got to “God’s
intention is your potential.” I said, “Bonnie, before I enter the
house I want you to walk into the den before me and read what I typed just
before leaving this morning. I can hardly believe it.” After she
read the sentence, her response was rather nonchalant. She
shrugged her shoulders slightly, and said, “So, don’t you believe in
angels?” Theoretically, I assured her, I did. But in the
Twentieth Century? It was almost more than I could deal with
theologically. And I must admit after all these years, it
still is.
Now, back to the real story.
Following this incident I began to keep a journal and work on the
manuscript of the book occasionally. Eventually, I got it all
together, and sent letters of inquiry to a couple of publishers. One
was interested, but by then I had chickened out. So the
manuscript lay dormant for several years. The following is
that book with some editorial revisions and additional comments. May
God use its pages to instill in you a renewed determination to fully
realize His ultimate intention for your life.
CHAPTER TWO
“The greatest
battles of life are fought out
daily in the
silent chambers of the soul.”
David
O. McKay
Seoul, at least the non-tourist sections, is interestingly quaint.
The oriental atmosphere charms me. In small enclaves —
reminiscent of days gone by — one can still find, amid 2Oth century
skyscrapers and ancient pagodas, people pushing wooden wheeled carts, and
naked children running playfully through cluttered alleys. An all
Asia Christian Leadership Conference sponsored by my denomination,
was the reason for my last visit this fascinating city.
Conferences — I hasten to add — on the whole are bores.
Committee meetings and long drawn out lectures on "How I Did It" by the
super successful act on my nerves like slow prison camp torture. Men
of the cloth, however, seem addicted to these. This highly
publicized affair, in sheer misery, matched any. So, I was in no
mood to have my ecclesiastical feathers ruffled.
During one of the lulls, a missionary leader carrying something behind his
back approached me. He smiled. I smiled. (We preachers
love to smile, I thought) He then proceeded to lecture me, without
apology, on my audacity for using a mailbox reassigned to me from him by
the Field Chairman of our mission. (Please allow me to interject
that in retrospect, all of this may have been done with tongue in cheek,
but my mood was rotten.) He informed me that he really needed the
box. Why, I never determined because in the three months that I had
been using it not one letter arrived for him. Besides that, he
actually lived 1,500 miles away from the box, and had a postbox at home.
Most probably it was the principle that bothered him. In any
event, making such a fuss over such a small thing further irritated me.
It seemed so trivial.
Finally, I coaxed my concealed letters from him, and with tongue in cheek
told him how sorry I was that an otherwise competent Field Chairman had
made such a colossal mistake.
Upon returning, I related the accident to my wife, and, in telling, grew
even more irritated. "You want to know what's wrong with missions?"
I complained. Of course she didn't, but she was polite anyway.
So, I proceeded, "There are too many guys like that. That fellow
couldn't run a hot dog stand in the States,” I said, sarcastically.
I now feel that this was not a fair assessment, but I believed it then.
Obviously, I felt superior to my
colleague, but this was not the only problem that I had.. For years I had
been trying so hard. to succeed; however, unfortunately, I had never taken
the time to define success in God's terms. I just simply wanted to be the
best!
After ranting on for a while, suddenly conviction hit my conscience like a
dart. Then, in very unmanly fashion, I placed my hands over my eyes
and began to weep. I say, weep — more appropriately, I should say, I
wept dry tears, since nothing came out except gut wrenching groans.
"God," I said, "please forgive me. I've been taking out this male
menopause, or whatever it is, on the wrong people. Innocent people,
like my colleagues, my family, myself. "I need help," I cried.
"I feel pushed against a wall. No way out. Hemmed in.
Checkmated. What do I do now?" After a long pause, the Holy Spirit
whispered, "Listen."
That seemed a good place to start. So I listened. But mainly
to myself. God wasn't talking.
Psychologically, the impact had thrown me. I was insecure,
dissatisfied, and wanted to escape. Uncertainty plagued me.
But what good was my diagnosis without a remedy? For years I had lived and
enthusiastically preached success. I could quote Schuler, Peale, and
Napoleon Hill. I had all the formulas, but none of them was working.
Theologically, my salvation was secure. That, I have never doubted.
But, admittedly my spiritual reflexes were terribly poor.
In short, I was on a dry, rocky, down hill spiritual slide that was
ruining my confidence and self-image, which could, in turn, eventually
thwart my career growth. Luckily, I knew I didn't need counseling,
or advice, or to read more self help books. I knew what I needed
— I needed to put it all together my way. Immediately, new
determination was born. Dusting off my diary, I wrote:
"Today's Rule for
Success"
“Time is short. I will determine my priorities. Small things
will have no place in my life. It is never too late to succeed when
your God given energies are concentrated on the right goals for success.
I will remember this and live by it."
At this point, a new spiritual journey began. It has not been an
easy route, but it has been exciting. God has led me through deep
valleys of introspection. Along rough spiritual paths of self-doubt
and confusion. At times, it has be necessary to retrace my steps
through the corridors of my memories, and forge new ways where the old
ones had led me astray. The journey is far from over, but my
instincts reassure me each day that I am on the right course.
My desire is that you, too, will learn from my journey as we travel
through far away lands and in enchanting places, and relive with me each
exciting moment in the retelling. However, be forewarned at
the outset: I may not be the most compatible traveling partner with whom
you may have ever journeyed. There will be times when I will be
preachy. At other times you may even stumble with me, and at
others you may want to retreat. Through it all, though, we
will not be alone — God will be with us.
CHAPTER THREE
“He that has seen
me has seen the Father.”
Jesus of Nazareth
Missionary Koichi Kitano relates that when he pioneered a church in a
Japanese village, the villagers responded by striking a bargain with him.
"We will watch you for two years. If you live a good life, then we
will listen to you about this man called Jesus. Otherwise," they
said, "what good is your religion?"
Indeed, what good is our faith, if we are not transformed?
I believe we are. In fact, God's resolve is that faith will make us
new creatures. You see, dear reader, God has great ambitions for us!
He plans to make us into the image of His Son! Paul, the
apostle, confirmed this great plan when he wrote:
For from the beginning God decided that those who came to Him and all
along he knew who would, should become like His Son, so that His Son would
be the first with many brothers. (Rom. 8:29 TLB)
Theologically, and practically, this high ambition is almost
incomprehensible but, because Omnipotence has determined our
possibilities, our goals should be high. We can dream great
dreams. After all, why should we flutter with sparrows, when we can
soar with eagles?
Yes, God's intention is my potential — and, yours, too!
This fantastic discovery bubbles with exciting possibilities. It
means that behind every committed Christian is the greatest force in the
universe, pushing each of us on to greater heights. And, in every
failure there is a hand to lift us, the hand of the All Powerful.
No, we are not alone in our struggles, and life is not without purpose.
God does have an ultimate intention. We are to become just
like Jesus. Wisdom, therefore, dictates that we cooperate.
Such cooperation can be very difficult, however. To begin with, the
kind of cooperation, which God requires, is not simple acquiescence, or
resignation to fate. No. An active human will is involved.
Our will must willingly become His will in an ongoing relationship.
Thus, our will is our greatest asset, because God has already determined
what we can become.
But before we can become like someone, we must know what that person is
like. So, the pertinent question, therefore is, “What was Christ
like?” Then, our central purpose in life should be to become like
Him. Any other purpose — and there are many noble purposes in life —
is subordinate to this primary purpose. Indeed, should grow out of
it.
“What was He like?” There are no easy answers. Seemingly, at
least to me, most of what we read about Christ is terribly inadequate.
Sifting through dusty books in some quaint library, or reading the latest
"pop Theology" on the subject of Christology only accentuates the problem.
Furthermore, our imaginations seem to betray us. One only has to
read, or for that matter historically survey art and sculpture, to realize
there is no composite image. Our minds have conjured Him up to be
all things to all people —an effeminate with questionable sexuality for
the homosexual to a fire-breathing avenger for redneck preachers.
Now, please don't misread me at this early stage in our spiritual journey.
The Bible is sufficient, but it hardly produces the flesh and blood
reality that my curiosity demands. Perhaps there’s a bit of
“doubting Thomas” in me, the human side that wants to touch.
However, my instinct tells me that I am not alone in this desire. I
sense that most of us are like the Japanese villagers — we want to
see Christ demonstrated.
The Reverend Ron Peck, formerly a missionary to Southern Asia, caught the
spirit of what I am trying to convey, when he related to me the story of
an anonymous Baptist missionary doctor who returned to Bangladesh to die.
When someone asked him why he returned to die, he replied, "I have taught
these people how to live. Now I must teach them how to die."
He, like Christ, died loving. God's intention had been realized, and
such a life is convincing because it is committed.
Our lives, therefore, when properly lived, are but macrocosms of Christ's
life. Accordingly, we must live as He lived — and, yes die as He
died — for part of our destiny is to embody, in daily macrocosms, the life
of Christ on a cross of sacrifice as well as one of triumph.
For Christ all commitment was based on love, and was, therefore, unselfish
and permanent. Unfortunately, for most of us, commitment comes with
strings attached. Never, or hardly ever, is it based on true love.
Bear with me, as I explain.
For Christ, love and commitment are synonymous. Further, love is a
Godlike like quality, an attribute of His. In fact, the Bible boldly
declares that God is love. Therefore, we can never express love in
its truest sense without emulating God, and thus becoming Christ like.
Unfortunately, however, love is usually associated with sentimentality.
Therefore, commitment is temporary, and contingent. Now, please do
not misunderstand me. I am not just talking about the sentimentality
that is commonly present in casual courtship. No, I am also
including the more lasting relationships that one finds in most marriages.
There is in most of these marriage relationships, whether they are casual
or not, a feeling of romanticism. The marriage lasts only as long as
romance, or the sentimental feeling lasts. Such love is not in
the strictest sense the type of love of which the Bible speaks. Yet
many Christians govern their lives by a kind of pietistic sentimentality,
a misty eyed romanticism, even in their relationship with God.
Christ never spoke of love as a sentiment. That is, a feeling.
Love, as understood and practiced by Christ, was an act of obedience.
This is why Christ summarized our duty as love codified, when He said:
"You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your
soul, and with all your mind. This is the greatest and foremost
commandment. And a second is like it, you shall love your neighbor
as yourself." (Matt. 22:37 39 NASB)
For if our source is love, then our lifestyle will correspond.
Notice, I have been very careful to state that our duty is love codified.
Because, I believe that Christ clearly taught that love is mediated
through obedience, and not the other way around, as we are so prone to
believe. To love is to will with a purpose — it is a
commitment to a person, first to God, then to one another.
Mother Teresa, the founder of the Missionaries of Charity of Calcutta, and
a Nobel Prize winner, exemplifies the Christ like lifestyle which God's
intention demands.
It was on a hot, mucky day, when I last saw her. A friend, who
regularly contributes to Mother Teresa's causes, and I had politely
squeezed our way to her door through hundreds of orphans, leprosy
patients, beggars, and the staff that surrounded her tiny office.
Our last obstacle was a bashful young nun, hammering away on an old
Olivetti typewriter. Her self appointed duty (as we learned
later) was to guard Mother Teresa against unscheduled intrusions.
After assuring her that I was a clergyman and had to see the Mother
Superior on a private matter, the young nun giggled, “Yes, Father, but
only for a few minutes. She’s very busy, you know."
After whispering a prayer of thanksgiving, I then tried my Protestant
priestly best to look Catholic.
Once inside, we chatted for a while as Mother Teresa autographed her
biography, Something Beautiful for God, for my companion.
Shortly, I began to feel uneasy about our intrusion and suggested that we
pray; after which, I slowly began moving towards the door. "No," she
protested, "You have come so far, and you have not even seen the place
properly yet!" Before we could object, the tour began. As we turned
down one of the corners in the maze of shantytown like structures that
made up the compound, suddenly we were faced with a wooden crucifix.
"This," she informed us, "was carved by a Hindu, and is a source of great
inspiration to me."
"Sister," I replied, "Don't you find it somewhat incongruous to kneel and
worship before a crucifix sculptured by a Hindu?"
"No, I do not," she replied instantly. "Every man is God's creation.
He loves them all the same. Why should I find the creative
expression of one of God's loved ones as something bad? Especially,
when it is a crucifix carved in appreciation for what Christ has done for
the Indian people through the Missionaries of Charity."
"It is our policy," she continued, "to treat every man the same.
Hindu and Christian receive the same care. There is no difference
made. We love them all."
As the ancient Dodge van rumbled back to the hotel that afternoon, I began
to seriously consider what this simple non-theologian, the daughter of a
Yugoslavian peasant had said. "There is no difference made. We
love them all."
"Yes, Jesus," I whispered, "You made no difference. You loved them
all — Greek and Jew, sinner and saint — you loved them all."
That is dynamite! If that ever ignites the heart of the average
Christian, the world will be changed.
In contrast, for centuries Christianity has produced a morbid image of
Godly love. Staunch Muslims, Hindus and other heathen deserve
our pity — seldom our love. The rationale runs something like
this: God hates sin. All heathen are sinners. Sinners sin.
Therefore, I hate, Suddam Hussein, and rejoiced at the death of Khomeini.
I abhor Indian Hindus who worship idols and use cow dung as fuel, and
Shiite Muslims, indeed most Muslims, if not all. And especially, do
I hate those who attack God's people, the Jews.
For far too long such "Crusade mentality" has prevailed, and it should
stop—Immediately. Christ died for
all, not just a select few who are willing to embrace Western cultural and
political values. That includes Muslim and Jew — Arab and Hebrew.
Black Panthers and Arian Nation fanatics. Blacks. Whites. Chinese
and those of mixed races. We must love them all, just as the
children’s song says, “Red and yellow, black and white, [because] they are
precious in His sight.” And, theologically, I have no argument with
that.
Yes, Christians we must love everyone.
Further, as committed Christians, we must insist on separating the crime
from the criminal, the act of rape from the rapist, the sexual perversion
from the lesbian or the homosexual male, Communism from the Communist,
Islam from the Muslims.
Yes, we must live as Christ lived, and die as He died — loving humanity.
Even those who killed Him.
Such love is hard to resist. This love is the most powerful force in
the universe. The great problem is that the world hardly ever sees
true love anymore. Yet, if Christ's kingdom is to grow, such love is
essential. There is no option.
While contemplating the conclusions of this chapter, something, which I
had previously written in my journal on this theme, came to mind:
Today's Rule For
Success
“Considering God's intention to make me into the
image of His Son, I will realize my potential. I will love. I
will salute each new dawn with love in my heart. I will love my
Creator. I will love myself. I will love the black man.
Every white man. All Orientals. Those of mixed races. I
will love the Communist, as well as the Capitalist. I will love the
atheist and the saint. I will love the physically attractive, as
well as the deformed. I will love everyone. There are no
exceptions. I will love, for God is love.”
My prayer is that you will make the same
affirmation, if you have not already done so.
CHAPTER FOUR
“If you will it,
it is no dream.”
Theodore Herzl, the
founder of modern Israel
Dear Reader, you and I are unique.
We are God’s special creation. There is no one like me, and there
will never be another you. No, God doesn't clone. Further, He has
invested His greatest treasure in our welfare. This shows His great
confidence in the potential of each of us.
Thus, we are under a moral obligation, and a God given responsibility.
A obligation to affirm His opinion of us, and the responsibility to
cooperate with His purpose in us. Let us never forget that we
bear the very image of Christ in our souls. Therefore, potentially,
we are all winners! God thinks we have great possibilities.
Why shouldn’t we? To believe less in ourselves than God believes in
us is foolish. A good self-image promotes good mental health.
So, it is good psychology, as well as good theology, to believe in
ourselves. Can anyone argue to the contrary that self-doubt brings
on depression, and a spirit of defeatism? We should, therefore, in
the words of Saint Augustine, “Think God’s thoughts after Him.”
Fretting over sin, most often the cause for the evangelical doldrums, is
really nothing less than an abnormal reaction to our failure to measure up
to His standard. I said, abnormal, because that is exactly the way God
sees it.
Look once again at what He has to say,
The Ten Commandments were given so that all could see the extent of their
failure to obey God’s laws. But the more we see our sinfulness, the
more we see God’s abounding grace forgiving us. Before, sin ruled
over all men and brought them to death, but now God’s kindness rules
instead, giving us right standing with God and resulting in eternal life
through Jesus Christ our Lord. (Rom. 5:20-21, TLB)
Therefore, there is no excuse for us to
fret over shortcomings or inadequacies. He offers unconditional
forgiveness and immediate spiritual rehabilitation for those who ask.
So, why should we worry over a non-existing problem, once our sins are
forgiven?
God never puts anyone on a guilt trip. We do that ourselves.
The next time you feel like fretting, consider our saints. Augustine was a
whoremonger before he was converted. Paul a murderer. History is full of
ex-cons, former prostitutes, and a general array of ex-hoodlums, who are
now enshrined in reverence as holy men and women of God, whose Christian
lives we are now to emulate.
God is not concerned about what we were but what we are.
Sin is finished. God treats it as if it doesn't exist. So should we.
Mistakes are human, and can be immoral and sinful but, once we come to our
senses and accept His forgiveness, they should be forgotten. That is not
only Biblically sound, it is also good psychology.
We cannot erase yesterday's history. Future events may be different
from what is expected. But, the man I am today can be different from
yesterday's man, so that he is fit for tomorrow. And, tomorrow's man will
never be God's man until we begin to view today's man as God sees him.
You see, dear Reader, you are a special person.
You were not designed for defeat. You were created for Heaven.
Angels are your rightful companions. God made you that way. His
intention for your future is beyond imagination.
And, God is intensely interested in you, too. He knows the color of your
eyes. How tall you are. The size city you call home, or whether you live
in the country.
He knows everything about you. Your successes, as well as your
failures. He knows everything!
God also loves you. And, since He is all-powerful, He can do anything love
permits. That's comforting. Paul acknowledges this and expressed it
prayerfully this way:
I pray that Christ will be more and more at home in your hearts, living
within you as you trust in Him. May your roots go down deep into the soil
of God's marvelous love; and may you be able to feel and understand, as
all God's children should, how long, how wide, how deep, and how high His
love really is; and to experience this love for yourselves, though it is
so great that you will never see the end of it or fully understand it. And
so at last you will be filled up with God Himself. (Eph. 3:17 19 TLB)
This is His wonderful plan for each of us.
Paul's metaphor of being filled, however, should not be misread. What he
is implying is that we have Divinity residing with us in an eternal
partnership. And, when this is coupled with our special-ness, our
potential is limitless. This is not a Buddhistic concept of being
absorbed into Divine, either. In the Christian view, we are filled
in order that our shell, our personality, our distinctiveness, is
accentuated by its intended contents — God.
So, as God's special person, we have great hope. A real hope. For, He is
perfectly capable, and willing to complete His divine purpose in us.
We must believe that.
Otherwise, our high spiritual and, yes, even career ambitions become only
a frustrating idealistic goal, without eternal value. Because, as a child
of God unless I am planning for eternity, I am not really planning at all.
Since I so firmly believe that each of us is uniquely God's special
person, I must treat each person with special care.
I must love as God loves.
Many are blind to this responsibility, though. Sometime back I traveled to
Singapore to attend the Christian Summit Convocation called by the late
Dr. David du Plessis and other Charismatic leaders. They were interested
in establishing ecumenicity in light of the prayer of Jesus in John 17:21,
when he prayed:
My prayer for all of them is that they will be of one heart and mind, just
as you and I are, Father. That just as you are in me and I am in
you, so they will be in us, and the world will believe you sent me. (TLB)
While there I spoke privately with several black delegates from South
Africa. They honestly expressed severe reservation about the authenticity
of certain white representative's Christian genuineness in the area of
race relations, because, as they explained, experience taught them that
these men would drop all pretenses of racial equality once they were back
in Africa.
One black brother said to me, "Jim, I really hate to come to these things.
I get such high hopes. Then, when I return to South Africa, the same white
man who assured me publicly that he really cared, shuns me once we are
back on African soil."
And, if for one minute, we think the spirit of apartheid suddenly
disappeared with the swearing in of a new government in Pretoria, then we
must think again. The bitterness has just been driven deeper into
the hidden resources of a sick psyche.
What a pity.
For latent within each human being, within each race, within each nation
are great possibilities. This is not Christian humanism, either.
Our potential is irreversibility linked to His promise, whether we
evangelicals acknowledge it or not. And, He will always fulfill His
obligation.
Therefore, within each of us individually and collectively, resides a
Divine conclusion.
Theodore Herzl, the founder of modern Israel, recognized this great truth.
On the title page of his book, Altneuland, he wrote: “If you will
it, it is no dream." For years these were more than just words
written by a dreamer, they were a future reality for the wandering Jew.
Eventually, a nation was formed.
No, it is no dream once God wills it — it’s a fact!
Take the case of Hattie Mae the town drunk. I was only eight when
she was converted, but old enough to know that a dramatic event had
awakened the little village of Christine, Texas, population 286. She had
been married eight times. On a dare, just a short while before her
conversion, she had stripped naked and paraded down the main street of
town. She was simply awful. An embarrassment to everyone.
Then, one day Jesus completely changed her life. She opened her house for
cottage prayer meetings, and eventually out of that humble beginning a
church was born. God saw this potential in her all along. Hardly anyone
else had seen any good in her at all. She was considered by most as filth.
But Jesus saw her as simply an unpolished diamond. He then washed her and
brought out her uniqueness. Then, she became not just special to Him, but
to herself and others. I even ended up calling her "Auntie", as did the
other children in the church.
I shall be eternally grateful to that little church and the small band of
believers who gathered there. Grateful, because at an early age they
taught me that the real Body of Christ is not just a sanctified
separateness which calls itself the church, a little holy club which
ostracizes the socially unacceptable, but a vibrant community of believers
from every walk of life.
No, the basic Christian message is the same today as it was when the
author of our salvation gave the Great Commission. It is the good news
that God is interested in you and me as individuals. That commission has
not expired, either. God has personal plans for each of us. As twice
born men and women, we are different. Special. He wants to
accentuate that, too. And, I have determined that His desire is my
destiny.
So, the future is bright.
CHAPTER FIVE
“His hands,
Healed the sick
so we could know His compassion.
Held a child so
we could know His kindness.
Touched the
oppressed so we could know His concern.
Bore two spikes
so we could know His love!”
Author, unknown
Prior to the televangelists’ scandals, I used to watch a lot of Christian
television. Now days, hardly any. Quiet frankly, I’m
disillusioned.
How’s that for transparency?
Be that as it may, after thirty years of association with the charismatics
— although, technically, I am what is referred to as a ‘classical
Pentecostal’ — I feel I have earned the right to criticize,
constructively. So, it here goes.
Like the Jews we seek after a sign — if its not supernatural, then it’s
dull. We simply get goofy over the gifts, forgetting that they are
subordinate to love. The gifts will fix anything. Is there sin
in you life? Forget about striving for perfection; just fix it with
a miracle. Wow! That’s tough talk, you say. No, I happen
to know that a very famous fallen televangelist refused psychological
counseling, and spiritual rehabilitation simply because he was waiting on
a miracle to take lust away from him. He foolish. How sad.
The man needed help, and theology got in his way.
Whereas, on the other hand, I personally saw hundreds of men in worst
shape than him — at least they appeared to be — rehabilitated through Teen
Challenge, a program I ran for several years. It took more than
forgiveness, and the miracle of salvation to rescue these men and women.
It took hours of counseling and hard work.
Moreover, shame on us for not challenging certain charismatic religious
kooks, who have developed a kind of psychic network for the spiritually
gullible. Surely, God is not be pleased. Particularly, when
they neglect the greatest gift of all — love. Let us continue to
rejoice in the miracle of the New Birth, the miracles of the Charismata,
and angelic visitations; but let us be careful lest we miss out on
becoming full grown children in our Father's family.
After all, we Christians don’t have a corner on miracles, or the
supernatural. There are some pretty weird people out that that can
match us miracle for miracle, vision for vision. So, sorry, but
that’s not where its at. Our true spiritual identity is much deeper.
It relational. It’s love. So, it seems rather foolish to attempt an
emotional ride to heaven on a miracle bandwagon. It takes more than
miracles to please God.
It saddens me to write like this, but one must be realistic.
William Carey was not a charismatic, but he did exemplify what Sonship in
the family of God means.
As I stood in the library at Serampore College, which he founded near
Calcutta, my mind drifted back through the years when he, as a young
cobbler, turned missionary, had labored over the scripture translations
which lay before me. It had been years since I had read his biography, but
I remembered that he had buried three wives in India. I glanced
about the room. In a corner stood a pair of crutches he had hobbled
around on. He wasn't a well man otherwise, either. The smell of cow
dung hung in the air, and outside peddlers were still hawking their wares.
Just like the old days, I thought. Occasionally, a fly - and, there
were billions of them - attempted to tunnel into any convenient orifice in
my head. I tuned in just long enough to hear the guide say, "These
surroundings have not changed much since Carey translated these thirteen
languages, simultaneously, thereby laying the foundation for modern
missions in these parts …"
"Father," I cried inwardly, "where is that spirit of sacrifice today?"
It's around. I know. I am not that naive. But (and this is my real
contention) it is not being reflected by the average media minister, nor
by their disciples, of whom there are millions. No, generally, theirs is a
gospel of prosperity, of instant health, of success stories, never of
suffering and sacrifice - as though we servants are more privileged than
our Master. Sadly, the same indictment could be leveled against much
of the clergy. I am sorry, but such mamsy pamsy Christianity will
not wash scripturally. God demands more.
Let us however, leave this thought for a while as I wish to develop
another theme, which I hope to blend into the general mosaic of this
chapter.
Missionary Walt Kornelson was fond of telling the story of an old African
man who was asked by one of the villagers, "What is God like?"
The aged man wrinkled his weathered ebony brow and thought for a long
time. Then he replied, "Sir, you see that man walking with that boy coming
up the road? Who does that boy walk like?"
"His Father, the man he is walking with,” came the reply.
"And who does that boy talk like?" asked the old man.
"Well, he sounds and looks just like his Father," his friend answered.
"Now, sir," said the old sage, "that's just what Jesus is like. Just like
His heavenly Father."
Isn't this precisely the reply that Jesus gave His disciple?
"Philip," He said, "he that has seen Me has seen the Father."
Now think of our Master’s reply to Philip in light of His admonition
to " … be perfect even as your Father in heaven is perfect." The
assignment is clear — it’s perfection, nothing less. Impossible?
Hardly. For, “He that has begun a good work in us will complete it."
(Phil. l:6) And, let us remember, we are not alone in our
struggles, “For it is God which worketh in you both to will and to
do of His good pleasure." (Phil 2:13 KJV).
So in a real sense God is our partner for progress. This alliance is
sufficient, too, because it puts us in league with the most powerful force
in the universe - God.
Think of it. God, the Creator of all that is, the All Powerful, is our
partner. Therefore, we can claim with utmost confidence that whatever He
intends for us, is our potential.
We are fully equipped, when we cooperate.
Cooperation, the type that God demands, is no easy task, however. He
demands not only our full attention, but also our loyal admiration. We
must cooperate intellectually, as well as emotionally. We must love Him
with all of our mind and soul. Anything less is sub standard. It is less
than Christ like.
In order to make the point that I wish to emphasize, let us consider the
worth of suffering in our lives, something we all wish to avoid. But
Christ like identity through suffering provides, I am convinced, the only
germinating soil for proper compassion. We, like Christ, must be willing
to suffer, in order that we may identify.
I, as one of God's children, just like my Master, must be absorbingly
interested in your welfare. I must be sensitive to your needs. I must be
alert to your silent yearnings. I must feel what you feel. Weep when you
weep. Fundamentally, I must care enough to find out what your real needs
are. Failure cannot dissuade me from this duty, either, because love
demands it. Although, at times, I must admit, the obligation is easily
forgotten, especially when my selfish interests are jeopardized. Indelibly
etched on my memory is one such incident.
Governor Prentice Cooper, a former three-term governor of Tennessee, was
to die shortly of cancer, but I did not realize that when I met him and
his family in Spain. In retrospect, I believe he undoubtedly did, though,
since his conversation contained sufficient hints. But, I was too
interested in him as governor to see him as a man. Our talk, therefore,
naturally centered around political issues - primarily, race relations,
concerning which I was eager to give my opinions but I did not want to
appear "preachy", so each time the conversation took on religious tones, I
subtly changed directions. I wanted to impress, and certainly wasn't going
to offend the governor with anything that smacked of religion! In the
process I failed the governor and myself as well. He wanted advice, but
not the kind I was giving. I simply was not sensitive enough, therefore I
failed. Several months later I received a nice handwritten note from his
widow stating that the governor had mentioned me before his death and had
great faith that I would succeed. I cherish the note, but not the memory
of letting a needy man down. I wasn't sensitive enough.
To be truly Christian we must care, and in order to be compassionate, we
must be sensitive to the needs of others. No man, I believe better depicts
this than Dr. Mark Buntain of Calcutta.
Someone has said that India cannot be described, it must be experienced. I
agree. The kaleidoscopic culture of these ancient people has excited my
imagination since I visited there first with my wife, who was born and
lived in this fabled land until she was sixteen years of age. I fell in
love with India then, and it still continues to evoke my deepest passions.
Yet, I am not blind to India's shortcomings, and I must admit that when I
was first introduced to the country, via Calcutta, I was gripped with a
strong desire to board the next out going flight and never look back.
As the Thai Airlines DC 10 circled the international airport that day,
Calcutta lay under a heavy blanket of darkness mingled with cow dung
smoke, which hung like a London fog in the still evening air. We were in
route to Katmandu, Nepal, our next missionary assignment, and had trekked
through, it seemed, every airport in Asia, wrestling luggage, tickets, and
crying children every step of the way. Once we had landed and talked our
way through immigrations and customs, the real hassle began with
persistent taxi drivers, and a thousand professional con men, which seem
to thrive around Asian airports. I was disgusted.
Once outside, I barked out unchristian like orders to the driver to take
us to the Grand Hotel - which, incidentally, turned out to be a terrible
misnomer for a rundown old joint which must have had its heyday during the
reign of Queen Victoria. As we bounced along from one pothole to the next,
scattering pedestrians and a menagerie of four legged creatures in our
wake, while zipping blindly through intersections, horn blaring, I began
to take real spiritual inventory. When we approached the city proper,
however, my attention was instantly diverted to the thousands (literally
millions) bedded down in their only earthly home, the streets of Calcutta.
Business, I learned, begins for Mark at 4 a.m. sharp as he hurries (that
is hardly the word for it, it's more like a windmill on a downhill
toboggan run) to open the church for the 5 o'clock prayer meeting, which
he regularly attends. Next, at about 5:45 a.m., he checks on the feeding
program his church conducts for the area's (predominately Muslim) indigent
children. He then returns home to have breakfast with Huldah, his wife,
and their houseguest, after which the real day begins.
During the typical day he must find time to pastor a church of several
thousand adherents, supervise a hospital, administer a school (2,500), run
an orphanage, oversee a drug rehabilitation program, check on a large
printing operation, and attend to the details of countless other
enterprises. I do not wish to bore you with the minute details but I am
anxious to impress on you that he is extremely busy, so that you may
appreciate the context in which the following anecdote took place.
Captain Victor Siga, who retired from the Indian navy and who then worked
with Mark, and I sat down, shortly after my first visit, and tried to
figure out a way to help Mark get more organized. Being an ex hospital
administrator myself, I naturally began to see corner cutting methods to
save time and insure that Mark's energies were conserved and directed for
maximum efficiency.
Finally, after we had discussed the situation for most of the evening,
Captain Siga leaned back his head and roared. "Jim," he said, "I have
tried every way in the world to make him see that he is killing himself.
He needs to learn how to say 'No!' and mean it. But he can't. For
instance," he continued, "the other night I came to church late; and Mark
was standing there instructing someone to rush into the service and ask
the congregation to sing a few more choruses, while he drove a stranger,
who had just walked off the street, to the hospital. Jim, there was an
ambulance sitting there, but he did not want to take the driver out of
church. What do you do with a man like that?"
I just sat there shaking my head. Suddenly I shouted, "Nothing! That's
just like Jesus. The disciples couldn't organize Him either. Mark's got
his priorities straight, and number one on the list is compassion." The
words just exploded as the truth hit me.
Now western oriented theology and administrative science may argue with my
evaluation, but the poor of Calcutta don't. Besides that, what is
efficiency anyway? If I had to take a choice, and we usually do in
our busy technologically oriented society I would choose compassion.
We must set Christ like priorities, or lose the battle against the forces
of evil. There are no alternatives.
Imagine the impact that an army of Mother
Teresas, Mark Buntains, William Careys. Men and women with their
spiritual priorities straight, would have if concentrated in one area. I
believe they could turn America around. They could conquer England. Proud
Europe would crumble before them. All of Asia and Africa would be at their
feet.
Yes, we can win! But only if we have the compassion to do so!
Tap onto continued at bottom left . . .
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