by Steve | Sep 3, 1981 | Archive - 1981
Archive: A Word About Negativism
By James V. Heidinger II, Editor, Good News Magazine
Our perceptions of things change slowly in the life of the church. But, happily, they do change. And every so often I still hear someone comment regarding Good News, “You’re doing a good job, but just be positive.” The perception—Good News is primarily negative.
Good News began some 15 years ago as a grassroots protest over theological issues within the then Methodist Church. A flood of responses to a Charles W. Keysor article in the July 14, 1966 Christian Advocate marked the birth of Good News. The flurry of responses to Chuck’s article was proof that evangelicals in the church were alive—yet starving.
Good News has spoken a bold and prophetic word to the church about its theological vacuum, its secularism, about “letting the world set the agenda.” Theologically, there has not been a great deal about which to be positive. There have been many negative words. But the words have not been only negative by any means.
I think it is time to update our perceptions and dust off our stereotypes. Good News has been involved in far more positive initiatives than most of our critics would be ready to admit. Unfortunately, perceptions are formed—not through the day by day steady programming of Good News, but by occasional controversial issues that get visible media coverage. But, in reality, the charge of being only negative is a charge that gets slain by a gang of facts. Let’s consider several.
In 1975, the Good News Board of Directors adopted “The Junaluska Affirmation,” which is an “Affirmation of Scriptural Christianity for United Methodists.” Emerging from a Task Force on Theology and Doctrine authorized by Good News in 1974, the statement is a reaffirmation of the historic faith of the church and remains the only major response to the 1972 General Conference’s mandate for all United Methodists to “accept the challenge of responsible theological reflection.”
In the same year, Dr. Ed Robb gave a powerful address at the National Convocation on ‘The Crisis of Theological Education in the United Methodist Church.” It was a blistering address that quickly had the attention of the seminary community. But out of the heated discussion from that message emerged Dr. Robb’s AFTE, A Fund for Theological Education. And though not an official Good News effort as such, it has the respect and support of the Good News family. Currently, AFTE is assisting 15 John Wesley Fellows who are working on doctoral degrees in both the U.S. and England—young evangelical scholars who will return to teach in UM seminaries.
Also in 1975, Good News launched the newsletter Catalyst. For seven years now, Catalyst has been sent to every United Methodist seminarian in America without charge. It is a newsletter for the young seminarian who is looking for scholarly evangelical resources to assist him or her in theological studies. Regular articles, reviews, suggested journals, resources, and cassette tapes offered at cost have been favorably received by seminarians of various theological positions.
In 1976, Good News published its “We Believe” confirmation materials in response to a cry from UM pastors desiring a more Biblically-oriented resource. Several thousands of churches are using “We Believe” regularly and with enthusiasm. It went through its sixth printing in November 1980!
Also, in 1976, Good News put flesh to its missions concerns with the adding of Rev. Virgil Maybray to the staff as Executive Secretary of the Evangelical Missions Council. His story is the other side of the much-publicized differences we have had with the Board of Global Ministries (BOGM).
Virgil, an ordained Elder of the Western Pennsylvania Conference and long-time pastor there, spends some 80 percent of his time on the road giving leadership to missions conferences in local United Methodist churches. Last year, Virgil spoke in 64 UM churches and raised $324,305 for missions through faith-promise giving at mission conferences! An estimated 60-75 percent of this money goes to mission projects and missionaries serving under the BOGM! The mission ministry packet, containing the names of nearly 350 UM missionaries who have elected to be included on a Good News list, is sent to hundreds of churches and brings in thousands of dollars more each year. The packet also includes 222 Advance Special projects.
A pastor from Illinois recently wrote to Virgil asking for suggestions about Advance Specials. Virgil sent him a missions packet. Soon a letter came back to Virgil notifying him that the church’s youth had sponsored a “24-Hour Run for Jesus” which netted $1,400. The pastor said that the entire amount was being sent to the Red Bird Mission to help in rebuilding the school that had recently burned. They had seen the project in the missions packet Virgil had sent. If that is negativism, then let’s pray for its continuance.
In 1977, Good News initiated dialogue with all of our United Methodist seminaries. Teams from Good News went to the seminary campuses to spend a day or two in discussion with faculty, administration, and students about concerns of the evangelical constituency.
In 1978, Good News re-worked “We Believe” Confirmation materials into an adult series for use by senior high youth and adults. That same year, a Political Strategy Task Force was organized under the leadership of Don and Virginia Shell. This marked the beginning of a two-year preparation period for the 1980 General Conference. The Political Strategy Task Force sponsored seminars in a number of annual conferences on how to do petitions and get evangelical delegates elected to General Conference. The year prior to General Conference, the task force developed carefully prepared research papers on the various issues facing the Conference. These were circulated to all delegates for their consideration as they wrestled with the host of issues. Scores of lay and clergy delegates expressed appreciation to Good News for these position papers.
Also, in 1978, Good News launched its newsletter Candle, written specifically for United Methodist Women. The purpose of Candle is to provide inspiration, book reviews, information, analysis of UMW program materials, and strategies for strengthening the UMW in the local church. Candle found immediate and wide acceptance by women all across the church.
In 1979, Good News published What You Should Know About Homosexuality. With the church in the throes of the struggle over issues related to the problem of homosexuality, this Good News volume is a scholarly and helpful work, unique in that it represents a chapter from each of six professional disciplines including Old and New Testament theologians, a church historian, a psychiatrist, a pastoral counselor, and a lawyer. Significantly, it is the only scholarly work to be published in UM circles which is representative of the UM Church’s official position.
Finally, in 1980, as a continuation of the Good News concern for doctrinal and theological issues, and as an extension of the “Junaluska Affirmation,” Dr. Paul A. Mickey, Professor of Pastoral Theology at Duke University, the Divinity School, and former Chairman of the Good News Board of Directors, published Essentials of Wesleyan Theology: A Contemporary Affirmation. Dr. Mickey’s work is a phrase-by-phrase commentary on the text of the “Junaluska Affirmation.” It will be a helpful resource for both clergy and laity as they investigate basic themes such as the Trinity, the Deity of Christ, Original Sin, the Virgin Birth, Prevenient Grace, the Authority of Scriptures, Salvation, the Church, and more. The format is clear and the questions at the end of each chapter make the book a useful tool for study and discussion groups.
In addition to these efforts, Good News has continued to speak to the church through each edition of Good News magazine, through 12 years of National Convocations which have trained and equipped thousands of UM pastors and laypersons, and through hundreds of phone conversations with church leaders, pastors, and laypersons. We have attempted, and will continue to make our voice heard on the various issues confronting the UM Church. Whether it is a negative or positive voice often depends upon whether one agrees or disagrees with what we say. We will still speak negatively or prophetically to the church when that is necessary. We will do that prayerfully and sensitively. And we will also try to speak positively to the church when there is reason to do so. But to view us as primarily negative seems to me a lingering perception that is not supported by our numerous programs and initiatives.
by Steve | Sep 2, 1981 | Archive - 1981
C. S. Lewis answers the question …
Archive: Is Christianity Hard or Easy?
Reproduced from Mere Christianity, by C. S. Lewis ©1964, The Macmillan Company, New York Used with permission
We were considering the Christian idea of “putting on Christ,” or first “dressing up” as a son of God in order that you may finally become a real son. What I want to make clear is that this is not one among many jobs a Christian has to do; and it is not a sort of special exercise for the top class. It is the whole of Christianity. Christianity offers nothing else at all. And I should like to point out how it differs from ordinary ideas of “morality” and “being good.”
The ordinary idea which we all have before we become Christians is this. We take as starting point our ordinary self with its various desires and interests. We then admit that something else—call it “morality” or “decent behaviour,” or “the good of society”—has claims on this self: claims which interfere with its own desires. What we mean by “being good” is giving in to those claims.
Some of the things the ordinary self wanted to do turn out to be what we call “wrong”: well, we must give them up. Other things, which the self did not want to do, turn out to be what we call “right”: well, we shall have to do them. But we are hoping all the time that when all the demands have been met, the poor natural self will still have some chance, and some time, to get on with its own life and do what it likes. In fact, we are very like an honest man paying his taxes. He pays them all right, but he does hope that there will be enough left over for him to live on. Because we are still taking our natural self as the starting point.
As long as we are thinking that way, one or other of two results is likely to follow. Either we give up trying to be good, or else we become very unhappy indeed. For, make no mistake: if you are really going to try to meet all the demands made on the natural self, it will not have enough left over to live on.
The more you obey your conscience, the more your conscience will demand of you. And your natural self, which is thus being starved and hampered and worried at every turn, will get angrier and angrier. In the end, you will either give up trying to be good, or else become one of those people who, as they say, “live for others” but always in a discontented, grumbling way—always wondering why the others do not notice it more and always making a martyr of yourself. And once you have become that, you will be a far greater pest to anyone who has to live with you than you would have been if you had remained frankly selfish.
The Christian way is different: harder, and easier. Christ says, “Give me All. I don’t want so much of your time and so much of your money and so much of your work: I want You. I have not come to torment your natural self, but to kill it. No half-measures are any good. I don’t want to cut off a branch here and a branch there, I want to have the whole tree down. I don’t want to drill the tooth, or crown it, or stop it, but to have it out. Hand over the whole natural self, all the desires which you think innocent as well as the ones you think wicked—the whole outfit. I will give you a new self instead. In fact, I will give you Myself: my own will shall become yours.”
Both harder and easier than what we are all trying to do. You have noticed, I expect, that Christ Himself sometimes describes the Christian way as very hard, sometimes as very easy. He says, “Take up your Cross”—in other words, it is like going to be beaten to death ·in a concentration camp. Next minute He says, “My yoke is easy and my burden light.” He means both. And one can just see why both are true.
Teachers will tell you that the laziest boy in the class is the one who works hardest in the end. They mean this. If you give two boys, say, a proposition in geometry to do, the one who is prepared to take trouble will try to understand it. The lazy boy will try to learn it by heart because, for the moment, that needs less effort. But six months later, when they are preparing for an exam, that lazy boy is doing hours and hours of miserable drudgery over things the other boy understands, and positively enjoys, in a few minutes. Laziness means much more work in the long run. Or look at it this way. In a battle, or in mountain climbing, there is often one thing which it takes a lot of pluck to do: but it is also, in the long run, the safest thing to do. If you funk it, you will find yourself, hours later, in far worse danger. The cowardly thing is also the most dangerous thing.
It is like that here. The terrible thing, the almost impossible thing, is to hand over your whole self—all your wishes and precautions—to Christ. But it is far easier than what we are all trying to do instead. For what we are trying to do is to remain what we call “ourselves,” to keep personal happiness as our great aim in life, and yet at the same time be “good.” We are all trying to let our mind and heart go their own way—centered on money or pleasure or ambition—and hoping, in spite of this, to behave honestly and chastely and humbly. And that is exactly what Christ warned us you could not do. As He said, a thistle cannot produce figs. If I am a field that contains nothing but grass-seed, I cannot produce wheat. Cutting the grass may keep it short: but I shall still produce grass and no wheat. If I want to produce wheat, the change must go deeper than the surface. I must be ploughed up and re-sown.
That is why the real problem of the Christian life comes where people do not usually look for it. It comes the very moment you wake up each morning. All your wishes and hopes for the day rush at you like wild animals. And the first job each morning consists simply in shoving them all back; in listening to that other voice, taking that other point of view, letting that other larger, stronger, quieter life come flowing in. And so on, all day. Standing back from all your natural fussings and frettings; coming in out of the wind.
We can only do it for moments at first. But from those moments the new sort of life will be spreading through our system: because now we are letting Him work at the right part of us. It is the difference between paint, which is merely laid on the surface, and a dye or stain which soaks right through. He never talked vague, idealistic gas. When He said, “Be perfect,” He meant it. He meant that we must go in for the full treatment. It is hard; but the sort of compromise we are all hankering after is harder—in fact, it is impossible. It may be hard for an egg to turn into a bird: it would be a jolly sight harder for it to learn to fly while remaining an egg. We are like eggs at present. And you cannot go on indefinitely being just an ordinary, decent egg. We must be hatched or go bad.
May I come back to what I said before? This is the whole of Christianity. There is nothing else. It is so easy to get muddled about that. It is easy to think that the Church has a lot of different objects – education, building, missions, holding services. Just as it is easy to think the State has a lot of different objects—military, political, economic, and what not. But in a way things are much simpler than that. The State exists simply to promote and to protect the ordinary happiness of human beings in this life. A husband and wife chatting over a fire, a couple of friends having a game of darts in a pub, a man reading a book in his own room, or digging in his own garden—that is what the State is there for. And unless they are helping to increase and prolong and protect such moments, all the laws, parliaments, armies, courts, police, economics, etc., are simply a waste of time.
In the same way the Church exists for nothing else but to draw men into Christ, to make them little Christs. If they are not doing that, all the cathedrals, clergy, missions, sermons, even the Bible itself, are simply a waste of time. God became man for no other purpose. It is even doubtful, you know, whether the whole universe was created for any other purpose. It says in the Bible that the whole universe was made for Christ and that everything is to be gathered together in Him. I do not suppose any of us can understand how this will happen as regards the whole universe. We do not know what (if anything) lives in the parts of it that are millions of miles away from this Earth. Even on this Earth we do not know how it applies to things other than men. After all, that is what you would expect. We have been shown the plan only in so far as it concerns ourselves.
I sometimes like to imagine that I can just see how it might apply to other things. I think I can see how the higher animals are, in a sense, drawn into Man when he loves them and makes them (as he does) much more nearly human than they would otherwise be. I can even see a sense in which the dead things and plants are drawn into Man as he studies them and uses and appreciates them. And if there were intelligent creatures in other worlds they might do the same with their worlds. It might be that when intelligent creatures entered into Christ they would, in that way, bring all the other things in along with them. But I do not know: it is only a guess.
What we have been told is how we men can be drawn into Christ—can become part of that wonderful present which the young Prince of the universe wants to offer to His Father—that present which is Himself and therefore us in Him. It is the only thing we were made for. And there are strange, exciting hints in the Bible that when we are drawn in, a great many other things in Nature will begin to come right. The bad dream will be over: it will be morning.
by Steve | Sep 1, 1981 | Archive - 1981
Archive: Rõõmsad Teated! Good News in Estonia
by Mark Elliott, Associate Professor of History, Asbury College, Wilmore, Kentucky
A college professor discovers a thriving Methodist congregation—and Good News supporters—behind the Iron Curtain.
How often do you get to shake the hand of a pastor who accepted imprisonment rather than obey government orders to close his church? That was my rare privilege last March as I led a tour of the Soviet Union.
Our itinerary included visits to many imposing sanctuaries restored at great cost. They have been turned into museums by a government of atheists. Soviet guides explained this paradox by noting Moscow’s desire to preserve the country’s “cultural and architectural treasures.” This may be true, but a Western Christian leaves these tombs of churches with sadness and surprise at Russian communism’s attempt to suppress Christianity yet painstakingly preserve its most impressive houses of worship.
This part of our tour was educational, but the inspirational highlight for many of us was the chance to visit churches still open for worship. (The Soviet Union has perhaps a tenth the number of functioning churches it had in 1917 at the time of the communist takeover.) It was in one of these “living” churches that I gained an altogether new appreciation for God’s ability to work in difficult circumstances.
On March 22 some of our tour group worshiped in the Methodist Church in Tallinn, capital of Soviet Estonia. This city is hardly 50 miles by water from Finnish territory. But it might as well exist in another world, given the contrast between Democratic Finland and Estonia, one of the western outposes of the Soviet empire. The Tallinn congregation of 1200 is the largest of 15 Methodist churches in Estonia, the only Soviet republic in which the denomination is permitted to work (Moscow forced the closure of Methodist churches to the north, in Leningrad, after 1917 and to the South, in Latvia and Lithuania, after World War II.) A membership of some 1200 may not seem remarkable by American standards, but it is the largest Methodist church not only in the Soviet Union but in all of continental Europe.
Still, it was not the size of this church so much as the spiritual fervor of its members that thrilled us that Sunday morning in March. Quickly, I revised private thoughts of myself as a short-term missionary in Russia and readily acknowledged that I was a pilgrim who had stumbled upon an isolated but dynamic outpost of faith.
The church itself was quite plain, inside and out. It had a white stucco exterior with a steep gable roof and a small spire that reminded me of northern Germany. Inside, a wooden barrel vault ceiling covered an unadorned sanctuary in sharp contrast to the ornate interiors of Russian Orthodox churches. Some of the simplicity may stem from the fact that by state decree Seventh Day Adventists use the same space for worship on Saturday, and the same two congregations may have different ideas on church furnishings.
While some members of our group attended Russian Orthodox, Catholic, and Baptist services that Sunday in Tallinn, nine of us worshiped with the Methodists. Because two of my students and I arrived before the service began, we were ushered to the platform to sit with the church elders facing the congregation. At 10:00 a.m. four men entered from the back of the choir loft and took seats directly in front of us: Rev. Olaf Parnamets, senior pastor and Superintendent of the Methodist Church in Estonia; Rev. Heigo Ritzbek, associate pastor and Secretary of the Methodist Church in Estonia; an elderly gentleman who had been the head of the church in the late 1940s; and a young man who was a ministerial candidate. The senior and associate ministers spoke excellent English and talked with us briefly before beginning the service.
To our amazement they were visibly excited that we came from Wilmore, Kentucky, and Asbury College. I mentioned Asbury’s Methodist heritage but they already knew that. Then Rev. Ritzbek specifically asked us if we knew anything about a magazine called Good News! After the service he told me he had been praying that the Lord would send someone to him with knowledge about the Good News movement. What an exciting-and-awesome-experience to know you are the answer to someone else’s prayer!
These men must have had confidence in Asbury College and Good News—because they asked us to participate in the service the moment they met us. Dave Lanpher and Jim McHugh, college history majors from New York and New Jersey, gave personal testimonies with grace and Christian maturity, representing their Lord to His credit. As Dave began speaking and as Pastor Ritzbek translated, “I greet you as brothers in Christ,” every hand in the congregation went up and a wave of that “tie that binds our hearts in Christian love” flowed in our direction in a way I shall never forget.
I was ready for a testimony myself, I thought, but the pastors decided otherwise. They must have felt I had a sermon in me because that is what they asked for. I quickly said, “Wait a minute! I’m a teacher, not a preacher.”
They still presented the opportunity as an offer I ought not refuse; so there I sat facing 800 plus with my New Testament and five minutes to construct my first sermon ever. I chose as my text II Timothy 1:7—”For God hath not given us a spirit of fear but a spirit of power and of love and of a sound mind.” The part about “God hath not given us a spirit of fear” I decided was appropriate not only for the predicament of believers under communism—but for history teachers called upon for extemporaneous preaching in Soviet Estonia!
Looking over the congregation I could not help but be moved by how intently everyone listened to four sermons in two hours (how would that go over at First Church, U.S.A.?); how people not only filled every pew but the aisles as well; how they sang with conviction from memory or hand-written song sheets or a few very worn hymnals; but above all how their unhurried and passionate prayers swelled in a chorus of petitions to the Lord.
This spiritual oasis, in seemingly one of the most improbable of locations, makes one smile at a 1965 Russian account of Protestants in the U.S.S.R. which predicted that, any time now, “one should anticipate” Methodism’s “complete disappearance” from the Soviet Union (F.I. Fedorenko, Sekty, ikh vera i dela).
After the service a number of us had an opportunity for fellowship with the pastors and ministerial candidates in the Methodist headquarters building in a picturesque section of old Tallinn. Here we talked and prayed in a room with the likenesses of John Wesley and George Simons, pioneering American Methodist missionary to Russia, hanging from the wall and keeping us company. Here also we sensed some of the frustration, but above all, the dedication of pastors who face countless restrictions on their activities. We sensed, also, the frustration of ministerial students who yearn for formal training but who must make do with self-instruction because not one Protestant seminary is open in the Soviet Union.
The Christian fellowship that day was rich, and surprisingly, a great deal of it was in English. But there was one handshake, from the elderly former pastor who could speak only Estonian, that spoke the most to me. This 20th-century saint had refused to dissolve his church on Stalin’s orders in 1949 and went to a labor camp for his convictions. Only Stalin’s death in 1953 saved him from 20 years of imprisonment.
Recognizing the difficult plight Christians have faced in the Soviet Union in this century, we might conclude that they are to be pitied. But in a way our churches are more pitiable. American congregations have people in the pews who are there out of habit or because it is good for business or for any number of wrong reasons. But behind the Iron Curtain people worship for the right reasons. There, a life of faith, at the very least, is “bad for business.” It can ruin chances for higher education and a good job.
A Russian Orthodox priest, Dmitrii Dudko, who spent the first half of 1980 in a Soviet prison, put it well in his spiritual autobiography entitled Our Hope. Speaking of believers in the U.S.S.R. he said, “We’ve happened upon the greatest of joys—to be in the position of the first Christians.” Consider this alongside the conclusion of a Methodist Superintendent in Finland who related the following to Dr. Charles Keysor last April: “The Estonian church, because of its persecution, is no doubt the strongest and most vital church in the Northern Europe Annual Conference of the Methodist Church.” Let us hope that it does not take Soviet-like conditions to revitalize the United Methodist Church in America.
by Steve | Jul 3, 1981 | Archive - 1981
Archive: Everyone Walked Past Him
a true story as told to Alan Cliburn, Van Nuys, California
It would have been easy to ignore him. Everyone else had walked right past, perhaps pretending that he didn’t exist, but I had seen him sitting there on the sidewalk when we left the convention hall for lunch. He was still there when we returned, an empty bottle in his hand.
My companions and I didn’t stop, however, still discussing some of the things our principle speaker had said during the morning session. This was a convention of ministers and we had been inspired to win a lost world for Christ.
But nobody stopped to speak to that drunken man. Of course we had a full schedule, with workshops and seminars and special music. Besides, it’s impossible to witness to someone as inebriated as that man on the sidewalk; everyone knows that.
But I couldn’t let it go quite that easily. Somehow it seemed incredibly contradictory to applaud a talk about winning the world for Christ and then leave a man practically lying in the gutter right outside the convention hall. The fact that none of the other ministers felt called to help him in no way removed the burden from my heart, even if they were mostly older and possibly wiser than I was. So I excused myself and returned to the street.
It might have been easier if the man had gone. I secretly hoped that the sidewalk would be empty and I could return to my colleagues with the knowledge that at least I had tried to help one of the unfortunates.
He was still there, however, still clutching that bottle. My experience was limited, but I walked up to him anyway.
“How about something to drink?” I asked.
“Sure,” came the slurred response. “What’ve you got?”
I tabled the urge to say, “Living Water.” “Let’s go across the street,” I suggested.
He couldn’t walk unassisted, so I wrapped one arm around his waist and he threw an arm around my shoulders. Together we staggered across the street to a restaurant.
I thought he would object when I ordered coffee instead of something stronger, but he didn’t. After about five cups he was starting to sober up slightly.
“Why don’t you go to the meetings with me this afternoon?”
“Okay,” he agreed, not even asking what the meetings were about.
George—that was his name—sat next to me all afternoon, smelling terrible. After a while he dozed off. I was scared to death that he would snore, but he didn’t.
I took George to dinner that night and he was quite sober by then and not really a bad guy at all, just down on his luck, as he put it, and unable to find work. I didn’t mention the Lord, but I offered to put him up for the night.
“Don’t know when I can pay you back,” he began.
“No problem,” I assured him.
I checked him into a motel near the convention center, but gave him no money. The corner liquor store was just a little too convenient.
“Pick you up in the morning and we’ll have breakfast,” I said.
“Look, I can’t let you keep picking up the tab,” he replied. “You don’t even know me.”
“Yes, I do,” I told him with a grin. “You’re George and I’m Ed.”
“Glad to meet you,” he answered, smiling. “Thanks a lot, Ed.”
“See you in the morning.”
I ran into some of my fellow ministers when I returned to the hotel where we were staying and of course they wanted to know what had happened to George. They didn’t look too impressed when I told them.
“He’ll be gone before you get there in the morning,” one of them warned. “I know how these guys operate.”
There was certainly the possibility that George would be gone when I went to pick him up. That wasn’t the issue, though, as far as I was concerned. The important thing was that I had tried to help a fellow human being.
George was ready and waiting when I arrived at the motel the next morning. He had even borrowed a razor and shaved. The difference in his appearance was remarkable. We had breakfast together and I again invited him to accompany me to the convention.
“Might as well,” he decided. “Don’t have anything else to do.”
The blurry-eyed drunk of the previous afternoon was alert and attentive as we listened to our speaker. I could hardly believe what I was hearing. The convention was attended almost totally by protestant ministers, yet he was preaching a salvation message!
“The simple Gospel story of Jesus dying on the cross and being raised from the dead on the third day is one that needs to be heard more often from the pulpits of this country,” he told us in conclusion. “There are longtime members of your congregations who have never received the gift of eternal life by accepting Christ as their personal Savior. There may even be those attending this convention who have never made this decision.”
George went to lunch with me, accompanied by others in my group. They finally treated him as a person, not as the social outcast who had been sprawled on the sidewalk 24 hours earlier. George was soft-spoken, but he mixed quite well and kept up his end of the conversation.
I really wasn’t interested in his social amenities, however, but there just wasn’t a chance to ask him about his spiritual condition right then.
“How about going to the afternoon session?” I asked George after lunch.
“Is it okay?” George wanted to know.
“You’re my guest,” I replied.
“I enjoyed it a lot this morning,” he added. “I didn’t understand it all, but it sounded good. You know, what that old guy was talking about.”
That “old guy” was one of the most respected men in the country, at least in the Christian community.
“Yeah, he wasn’t bad,” one of my friends admitted, tongue-in-cheek.
We were in smaller groups for the afternoon session and I kept George with me. He just sat and listened as we discussed various theological points and other matters pertaining to the ministry. I expected him to walk out at any moment, bored to death.
But he didn’t, and during the afternoon break I finally had a chance to share my faith in Jesus Christ with George.
“You really believe that, don’t you?” he said when I explained how Jesus can take away our sin and give us a fresh start, transforming us into new creatures.
“Yes, I do,” I assured him. “When I received Christ as my Savior, He gave me the free gift of eternal life. It wasn’t so long ago, either.”
George looked at me for a second. “I knew there was something different about you yesterday. Not too many people would do what you did.”
“I just did what I felt the Lord would have me do,” I told him.
“Aren’t all these other guys Christians?” he questioned. “Don’t they believe the same things you believe?”
“Yes,” I agreed. “Most of them are ministers, in fact.”
“So why didn’t any of them stop to help me yesterday?” he wanted to know.
It was a good question. “Well, some of them are involved in various committees or serving on panels,” I began truthfully, even if the answer didn’t totally satisfy me. “But the point is, George, what about you? Would you like to receive Christ as your Savior right here and now?”
He swallowed. “Yes, I would. Whatever you’ve got, I want.”
We prayed together right there in a fairly secluded corner of the convention center and George invited Jesus to come into his heart. His prayer was simple and awkward, but beautifully sincere.
George stayed for the rest of the convention and we found out a lot more about him during those next few days. For one thing, he had worked as a cook on ships in the past and really wanted to get back to work—if he could find a job.
As it turned out, one of the men attending the convention knew someone in authority in the shipyards on the coast and put in a call to him. There was a job in the galley of a tanker leaving in two days and George could have it if he got there in time.
“I’ll get there, all right,” George said. “If I hitch a ride today— ”
“You aren’t hitching a ride,” I interrupted. “We took up a collection, enough to buy a bus ticket anyway.” “I’ll never be able to pay you back for everything you’ve done for me,” he began.
“Keep up with your Bible study and prayer life and that’ll be payment enough,” I told him.
“I will,” he promised. “And I’ll keep in touch with you, too.”
Less than a week earlier he had been a stranger, a drunken bum who lay on the sidewalk with a bottle in his hand, but it was a brother in Christ I put on the bus that Friday afternoon.
“I’ll never forget you, Ed,” he said.
“You’d better not,” I replied with a grin, shaking hands with him.
I heard from George only once after that. He had landed the job and was on a journey halfway around the world. “And Jesus is with me,” he added. “There’s not too much to do aboard ship when you’re off duty, except drink—and I’ve quit that—so I read my Bible a lot.”
My letter to George came back. There had been a storm and the ship had gone down; all aboard were lost.
I stared at the letter in my hands. Not all, I thought. George may have gone to a watery grave, but he was not lost. He had found Christ and he would live forever.
by Steve | Jul 2, 1981 | Archive - 1981
Archive: When You Set Out the Fleece
Some helpful thoughts about discovering God’s will.
by Ivan L. Zabilka, Columbia, Missouri
Finding the “Will of God ” perplexes many Christians as they face the complexities of modern life. Among the many methods Christians use to search for God’s will is the practice of “putting out a fleece.” Generally speaking, this consists of predicting formally to oneself, or to others, specific conditions or events: If these happen, then it will be God’s sign that I ought to do this or not. Some deeply faithful followers of Christ practice this. I do not wish to impugn their spirituality, however, I do wish to challenge Christians to think clearly about how we make our decisions in a Christian context.
For example, some missionary friends of mine, especially those serving under independent mission boards, often rely on the “fleece system.” They travel much and are dependent upon fellow Christians for support and prayer. So they face a never-ending stream of decisions that demand sensitivity to the Holy Spirit. Frequently I hear them discuss putting out fleeces concerning what mission field to go to … what to do about conflicting meetings … how to raise support … and other significant decisions.
One friend recently told me that if his fund raising was not completed by a certain date, he would turn from mission work and move into a parish ministry. This deadline was a fleece he was using to determine the entire course of his ministry. Thus his decision was placed at the mercy of others’ willingness to give, the state of the national economy, the quality of his own diligence, and other extraneous factors. His decision was not based upon his preparation, effectiveness, love of the work, fruitfulness, the leading of the Holy Spirit, or the advice of trusted Christian friends.
The Biblical background for the placing of fleeces is found in the account of Gideon in chapters six and seven of Judges. Gideon wanted assurance that the Lord would be with him and the forces of Israel when they fought against the oppressive Midianites. So he placed a fleece of wool on the floor of the threshing room. He asked the Lord to make the fleece wet and the ground around it dry the next morning. Sure enough, the Lord honored this request and Gideon drained a bowl of water from the fleece that morning. But just to make sure, Gideon put the fleece out once more. This time he requested that the fleece remain dry and the surrounding ground be wet with dew. The Lord did exactly this, so Gideon, assured of being in the Lord’s will, proceeded to organize the Israelites to overthrow the Midianites.
Some of my uneasiness about the practice, as it is commonly applied today, stems from the differences in our modern practice and what occurred in Judges. Gideon was a farmer from the tribe of Manasseh. He lived during the most decentralized period of Israel’s history. Despite his depreciating words about himself and his family, he was relatively well-to-do. He had 10 servants even though he was a young man. Gideon lived in a pagan climate, for his father was a worshipper of the heathen god, Baal. Apparently the family commitment to Baal was somewhat nominal, though. When Gideon destroyed Baal’s altar and the neighbors wished to kill him for this offense, his father suggested that it would be better for Baal to contend for himself.
No doubt tales of God’s past works on behalf of the Israelites had been told to Gideon. But his understanding of God and His covenant with Israel must have been vague, for he blamed God for abandoning Israel to the Midianites. He failed to recognize that Israel’s sin had caused the problem.
Gideon was a bit of a skeptic. His first confrontation with the angel of the Lord was marked by questions concerning how God could be present with Israel when conditions were so bad. Gideon wished to know where the wonders of God were, for he could see no evidence of God’s presence or blessing at that moment.
Certain factors in the Biblical account of Gideon’s fleece should be contrasted to the modern practice of “setting out your fleece.”
1. The fleece of Gideon was placed by a semi-pagan.
2. Gideon was beset by doubts about the nature and presence of God.
3. Gideon had already seen one manifestation of God’s power in the first wetting of the fleece.
4. The fleece was a request for assurance, a comfort that is now available to believers through the presence of the indwelling Holy Spirit.
5. The fleece was a request for a miraculous “sign” from God. Now, we have Christ’s coming as the “sign” and assurance given to believers.
Like Gideon, we American Christians frequently exhibit semi-pagan characteristics. Why do we wish to copy the practices of a person who knew as little about God as Gideon did? Unlike Gideon, we can read the rest of the Old Testament history, as well as the living Word of the New Testament. We have access to a long history of God’s dealing with His people and this provides us with a great deal more helpful guidance than Gideon had. In fact, we have such a great advantage over Gideon that we almost have to choose to remain ignorant of God’s will for us. We do this when we ignore the Bible. (II Timothy 3:16, 17)
The placing of Gideon’s fleece was rooted in his doubts. It was placed following a dramatic manifestation of God’s presence and power that Gideon had already witnessed. In setting out our fleeces for guidance, why would we wish to follow the example of his “failure of faith”? We would further place ourselves in the unenviable position of the Pharisees (Matthew 16:4), and others who demanded a “sign” from God. (John 6:2, I Corinthians 1:22)
Finally, Gideon asked for a miraculous sign to encourage an already-accepted course of action. In our fleece-placing, we tend to request that non-miraculous circumstances determine our actions where we have difficulty deciding between options. The result? We may place ourselves at the mercy of extraneous circumstances, and the Bible indicates these are the domain of the Prince of the Power of the Air.
During the past year and a half, my wife Ginny and I have faced more decisions than at any other time in our lives. We decided to resign as candidates with a mission board, had to choose from among three professional possibilities, then had to choose a new home, church, and friends. We were frequently tempted to let some circumstances we could define determine our decision. We were never tempted to set up a fleece that would have required a miracle to confirm these decisions. I have never heard a friend who put out a fleece ask for a real miracle to confirm a decision, as Gideon did.
When confronted with a situation in which we are tempted to place a fleece, we need to ask questions that will bring the real issues into focus. At the risk of oversimplifying, consider this example. Suppose I have the choice of attending a major league baseball game (which I dearly love), or attending the regular semi-monthly Bible study on improving relations with others. Duty pulls me one way and desire the other. From either inability to decide or desire to avoid responsibility for deciding, I finally propose that if “Fred” calls me before 3:30 to remind me of the study I will go there. But if not, I will go to the game. Have I already tacitly decided the question by the shape of the circumstances I prescribe?
Recently I heard of a pastor who decided to let a fleece determine whether or not he should ask to be moved to a new church. He decided that if 10 new couples joined the church during the year it would be a sign the Lord was blessing and he would stay. But what if only nine couples had joined? Or eight couples and two singles? Do we want to base important decisions on such details or is there a better way? In many situations there is seldom a “right” and a “wrong” answer, although there may tend to be a selfish answer. In Christian decision-making it is best to think about the implications of a decision; pray for God’s guidance of our thought processes; decide on the basis of consequences we know or can project; commit the unknown consequences to God’s providential care; avoid second guessing the decision once made (unless we genuinely find we made a “wrong” but reversible decision); and allow God to turn all the consequences into His best through the constant action of the Holy Spirit in our lives.
by Steve | Jul 1, 1981 | Archive - 1981
Archive: Why It Rained on the Day of the Sunday School Picnic
Another chapter in the history of the Hackelburg Sunday School[1]
by Riley Case, Pastor, Hobart Trinity United Methodist Church, Hobart, Indiana
Herbert, the irreverent angel, feels an explanation is necessary for the rain on the day of the Hackelburg United Methodist Sunday School Picnic. Herbert is the developer of Heaven’s prayer computer, which sorts out divers manners of prayers, and makes recommendations to the Heavenly Father. After receiving four spoken prayers for nice weather for the picnic, plus 46 silent prayers, 105 secret wishes of the heart, and 97 hidden desires, some in the weather department wanted to recommend “fair skies with temperatures in the 70s” for the picnic. Herbert, however, on the basis of James 5:16 (“The effectual, fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much”), and his computer, felt the situation was too close to call. The Heavenly Father made the decision. Since some were disappointed, Herbert explains:
Pastor Harding, a truly righteous man, made two audible requests for a “nice day” for the picnic, but, Herbert points out, the pastor’s fervency level was somewhere around 17%. While the pastor favors a successful picnic, he also remembers the pop fly that bounced off his head during last year’s softball game, and the resulting snickers. His prayers—one at the men’s prayer breakfast, and one during the prayer of his pastoral visit to Minnie Skiver when he ran out of other things to pray for—were mostly in the line of professional duty.
Freddy Nolan, the Sunday school superintendent, prayed frequently with a fervency level of 92%, but there was a question about how “effectual”—that is, toward an end of good effects—his prayers were. It is common knowledge that Freddy had wagered a banana split with Ed Holman, Sunday school superintendent of the Baptist Church, over which church would have the biggest crowd at their picnic. The Baptists had 149 three weeks before. Freddy’s goal was 150.
Aunt Nellie Wilcox also fed in several requests for “blue skies.” Herbert allowed that while his computer did not completely disregard the requests, it noted that Aunt Nellie, resident saint notwithstanding, had prayed every single day for the past 25 years for blue skies during her morning devotions, and if the prayers had all been answered it would not have rained for a quarter of a century and all of Hackelburg Township would be a desert.
Janie Teegarden, high school junior, had a number of secret wishes and several hidden desires for a “warm day” so the softball game could be played. Janie was the very first person chosen at last year’s softball game and got on base every time she came to bat. Her blue halter top and short shorts were washed and laid out.
Jim Foster, Nicky Slater, Emilio Gomez, Teddy Wright, and Buster Hugheseven managed to pray for the weather, the picnic, and the softball game. Or at least they thought quite a bit about it and the angels considered their thoughts as prayers and ran them through the computer. Last year, the boys remembered, Janie Teegarden wore her green halter top and short shorts for the softball game. Herbert pointed out that the boys’ fervency level was not bad, but their standing as “righteous men” was in question.
There were other prayers. Mahilda Brown, whose favorite contribution to church pot-lucks, homemade bread, gets soggy in wet weather, prayed. As did Maryjo Andrews, for whom wet weather always means straggly hair. Even Joe Fields, a Baptist, prayed for hot weather and a big crowd. Joe runs the ice cream parlor from which the United Methodists had ordered their ice cream.
Against this outpouring of prayer, there was only one dissenter. Bobby Bales, age 10, had asked his friend Joey Davis to the picnic. Joey, who had no Sunday school, said he could except his parents were going away that day except they probably wouldn’t go if it rained. Bobby prayed for rain, and mentioned to the Heavenly Father that maybe if Joey came to the picnic he might be interested in Sunday school.
The day of the picnic brought rain with the temperature in the low 60s. Only 67 people made it to the pavilion at the park. Mahilda Brown’s bread was soggy and Maryjo Andrews’ hair was straggly. Ed Holman called Freddy Nolan about his banana split. Janie Teegarden wore jeans and none of the high school boys showed up. Half the ice cream was sent back to the ice cream parlor.
Those who came huddled around the fireplace in the pavilion where they made cracks like why didn’t the Lord give the Baptists all this rain on the day of their picnic since Baptists like water so well. Then they laughed and told more stories about Baptists and Methodists and Catholics and what it must be like in Heaven. Little children couldn’t play on the swings so they talked to grandmas and grandpas about pets and school and making their beds in the morning. Pastor Harding started some choruses and everyone sang a long time.
That night the weatherman on television explained that an unforeseen cold front had moved in bringing unexpected rain and even weathermen can’t be right all the time. Joey Davis told his mother all about the picnic, and the soggy bread, and the fire in the fireplace, and the stories about Baptists, and the singing. Then he said he would like to learn about Jesus and asked if he could go to Sunday school with his friend Bobby next Sunday.
[1] See chapter one, “A History of the Sunday School of the Hackelburg Church,” page 38, March/April, 1980 Good News
