Loyalty to Christ

Loyalty to Christ

J. R. Miller

Loyalty to Christ begins in the heart. We must love him supremely. "He who loves father or mother more than me—is not worthy of me; and he who loves son or daughter more than me—is not worthy of me." Nothing makes worthy discipleship, if love is lacking. In these days, Christian activity is emphasized and required. Never was the church of Christ as active as it is now. This is beautiful. But with all our activity, we fear lest we are not loving Christ as we should.

In one of the epistles to the seven churches, Jesus commends the church of Ephesus for many things—its works, its toil, its patience and that it could not bear evil men. "But," he adds, "I have this against you— that you have left your first love." With all its activity and self-sacrificing service—it did not love Jesus as it used to do.

G. Campbell Morgan tells of a friend of his who had a little daughter that he dearly loved. They were great friends, the father and daughter, and were always together. But there seemed to come an estrangement on the child's part. The father could not get her company as formerly. She seemed to shun him. If he wanted her to walk with him—she had something else to do. The father was grieved and could not understand what the trouble was. His birthday came and in the morning his daughter came to his room, her face radiant with love, and handed him a present. Opening the parcel, he found a pair of exquisitely worked slippers.

The father said, "My child, it was very good of you to buy me such lovely slippers." "O father," she said, "I did not buy them—Imade them for you." Looking at her he said, "I think I understand now, what long been a mystery to me. Is this what you been doing the last three months?" "Yes," she said, "but how did you know how long I had been at work on them?" He said, "Because for three months I have missed your company and your love. I have wanted you with me—but you have been too busy. These are beautiful slippers—but next time buy your present—and let me have you all the days. I would rather have my child herself—than anything she could make for me."

We are in danger of being so busy in the Lord's work—that we cannot be enough with the Lord in love's fellowship. He may say to us, "I like your works, your toils, your service—but I miss the love you gave me at first." There is real danger that we get so busy in striving to be active Christians, so absorbed in our tasks and duties, our efforts to bring others into the church—that Christ himself shall be less loved and shall miss our communing with him!

Loyalty means first of all—heart devotion. Has Christ really the highest place in your heart? It is not your work he wants most—it is you! It is beautiful to do things for him—it is still more beautiful to make a home for him in your heart!

A young man, at great cost, has brought from many countries the most beautiful materials he could find and has built as a memorial to his dead wife—an exquisite little chapel. Only a few men could do anything so rare, so lovely. But the poorest of us can enthrone our loved ones in our hearts; and the poorest of us can please Christ even more—by making a little sanctuary in our hearts for him.

Then there must be loyalty of life. If there is true, supreme love in the heart—there should be a holy life and character. Here again we need to guard against devotion to the work and service of Christ—while in the life the world sees there are so manyflaws and blemishes, that the impression is not to the honor of Christ. He is very patient with our infirmities and our stumblings. If he were not, who of us ever could hope to please him?

We are inexperienced, mere learners, at first. We misspell our words. We blunder in our grammar. We sing out of tune. Some of us are just beginning our Christian life, and are discouraged already because we have failed to be what we meant to be, and to live as beautifully as we were sure we would live. Christ is patient with us—when he knows that we are true in our heart, that we really want to be faithful.

Charles Kingsley says: Oh, at least be able to say in that day, "Lord, I am no hero. I have been careless, cowardly, sometimes all but mutinous. Punishment I have deserved—I deny it not. But a traitor I have never been; a deserter I have never been. I have tried to fight on your side in the battle against evil. I have tried to do the duty which lay nearest me, and to leave whatever you committed to my charge—a little better than I found it. I have not been perfect—but I have at least tried to be perfect."

Christ never forgets how frail we are. But he does not want us ever to give up. Though we stumble when we are learning to walk, he wants us to get up and try again. Though we are defeated in our battle tomorrow, he wants us to rise at once and keep on fighting.

A true soldier may be wounded, may be beaten in many battles—but he never is a deserter, never is a traitor. He is always loyal. It is only when we desert Christ, turn away from him, become false to him—that we really fail. You never can fail—if you are true, if you are faithful.

But we should always keep the standard of loyalty up to the highest point. The command is: "Be perfect—even as your Father in heaven is perfect." That standard must never be lowered. Christ's own thought of loyalty—is simple faithfulness. "Be faithful."Faithful seems a gracious word. It requires nothing impossible. It demands nothing unreasonable. It asks only for a just return. It does not exact ten talents—when only two have been given. It is a word of love. Christ is a gentle taskmaster. Yet the word sets a high requirement—one, too, which cannot be lowered. It must have the BEST that we can do. When much has been given—a little will not be a satisfactory return.

There must be loyalty also in character. Paul suggests a cluster of the fruits of the Spirit which do not take an active form, "Love, joy, peace, longsuffering, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, meekness, self-control." Most of these are quiet virtues. They are qualities of character. One might possess many of them—and not be able to say he was an active Christian. Peace is not active. Joy, long-suffering, goodness are not active. Yet these graces are essential to a complete Christian life. We must think of the passive and quiet virtues—as well as the active ones—when we are trying to discover the full meaning of loyalty to Christ.

Here is a man, for example, who bears the name of Christian. But he is not loving—he is hard to live with, irritable, angry, resentful. He has no joy—but is a morose, gloomy, a sad man. He has no peace—but is fretful, anxious, restless, full of fear and worry. He has no meekness—but is impatient, irascible, unmerciful. Lacking the qualities of love, joy, peace, meekness, can you call such a man a loyal follower of Christ? He may be a lively Christian, so far as activities are concerned: a prominent church-member, a zealous church officer, foremost in the organizations of the church. Yet he is not a man you would call a beautiful Christian. Loyalty must be Christlike in character, in disposition, in spirit, in the shining of the face, in the lovingness of the heart.

But loyalty to Christ, must also be active. A true patriot is a quiet and peaceable citizen in times of peace. But when the country is imperiled, he is ready for service. He takes the soldier's place. The Christian belongs to the army of Christ and must follow his King to battle. He who fails to do his part in the conquest of the world, cannot call himself fully loyal to Christ. He may not be anenemy of Christ—but he is a shirker, or he is lacking in courage.

Loyalty to Christ means activity in the service of Christ. Find your work—what you can do to make the world holier, happier, truer—and do it with all your might!

A good woman deplored her lack of usefulness. Yet many knew that her daily life was a constant blessing. She sweetened a home, blessed a houseful of children and young people, and manifested the love of Christ among her neighbors. Was not that being an active Christian? There is an activity of BEING—as well as of DOING.

Loyalty to Christ also demands of us—the uttermost of sincerity and truth in all our living. God desires truth in the inward parts. Yet are there not men who claim to be Christians—and are living a lie? There are lives that are honey-combed by all manner of unfaithfulnesses, dishonesties, injustices and injuries to others—and by many secret sins.

What does the lesson of loyalty to Christ have to teach us about these things? Are covered sins—safely hidden? Are they out of sight forever? Oh, no! Be sure that your sin will find you out. The word is not, "Be sure that your sin will be found out." It may not be found out in this world—but it will "find you out." It will plague you, spoil your happiness, make your life wretched.

What shall we do about these wrong things we have done? A life of loyalty to Christ—means a life that is white, clean, through and through. None can build a beautiful, shining character—upon covered sins. Joy is part of a complete Christian life, and no one can be joyous—with sins concealed in his heart.

Paul has a word about bringing every thought into captivity to the obedience of Christ. We should test every feeling, every imagination, every disposition, all conduct, by this test—loyalty to Christ. Someone does you a wrong, and you feel like getting angry. Be loyal to Christ. Keep your whole life, every day, every hour—under the sway of his Word.

Loyalty to Christ! There really is nothing else in religion. It is all in these three words.

I will be faithful to Christ!

I will be true to Christ.

I will please Christ.

I will be obedient to Christ.

I will do his will.

I will submit to his discipline.

I will bear the cross he lays upon me!

The Sword That Cuts Both Ways

The Sword That Cuts Both Ways
by Louis Albert Banks (1855-1933)

"For the word of God is quick and powerful and sharper than any two-edged sword...""
                                                  —Heb. 4:13
.. 
The illustrations that are used to describe the Word of God throughout the Bible suggest its energy and power. It is compared in the Psalms to a lamp, a light to guide the feet. Light is positive; darkness is negative. Light dispels darkness. The rays of the sun flash from world to world across millions of miles of space in time measured by seconds, and that is only a faint type of the flashing of spiritual light. Again, the Word of God is compared to a hammer to break the rock in pieces, so that no opposition can withstand it. In Jeremiah it is said, "Is not my word like as a fire? saith the Lord." Nothing is more active, more vital with life, than fire. It is at once heat and light. It melts and consumes. It either warms into life, or it annihilates. It is also compared to a seed, an incorruptible seed which supplies the moral harvests of the world. A seed is full of life; one can easily imagine a giant oak-tree, whose shadows fall for a hundred feet bound up in an acorn. One looks at the heap of wheat on the granary floor and beholds a wide-reaching field of waving grain shimmering in the sun. A seed is the most powerful thing in nature. No giant that ever lived could lift such loads as a seed that a sparrow could swallow. Wooed by the sunshine and the shower, nerved by the omnipotent life which God has given it, it can tear a stone wall to pieces, lift a weight of many tons, and push anything aside which stands between it and the light. 

We are therefore not surprised to find the Word of God compared in this text to a sword and not only to a sword, but one sharper than "any two-edged sword." There have been many sharp two-edged swords in the earth, subjected, like the far-famed Damascus blades, to the most ingenious temperings of the swordmaker's art; but Paul declares that the Word of God is sharper than any of them. Shakespeare must have had this text in his mind where he speaks of "the mind's eye" which flashes through all the sensations and actions of the soul like lightning, and lays bare to a man's consciousness all that God has detected within him. There is life in the Word of God. It is living and active to awaken the slumberer, to cut deep beneath the surface and make man know himself.

Dr. Thomas Armitage says that certain historic things need corroborating evidence outside of themselves, but some things are self-evident. The sun tells of its own light, and you can not well prove it; your pulse tells of your own life, and you can not demonstrate it by reasoning. So the sharp, keen sword of the Word of God shows a man's inner heart to himself. Jesus Christ talked only for a little while with the woman at the well of Samaria, but his conversation served to open every dark comer of her heart and let the light in upon every sin; and wicked deeds that she had forgotten came out from their moldy meeting-places where they had been slumbering for years and shook themselves into horrid life again. So deeply and keenly did the word from Christ cleave into the soul of that woman that it opened to her her whole history at one gash, and when she went into the town to tell her acquaintances about it she declared he must indeed be the Messiah, for, says she, "He told me all things that ever I did." 

God's Word has not lost its power to cut sharp between the lower and the higher life, or to discern the secret things of the heart. It is the heart that must be opened to the light if we are to be saved, for it is the heart that has gone astray. It is in the heart that evil imaginations are born, and where unholy thoughts are hatched out into wicked purposes. The wise man of old did well to urge the guarding of the heart with all diligence, declaring that out of it are the issues of life. Christ says that out of the heart proceed evil thoughts, which manifest themselves in every wicked way. It is the infinite love of God that leads him to use the sharp sword of his Word in opening up to our gaze the wickedness of our hearts. It has been well said that perhaps no sight on earth is so painful as that of a skilful surgeon whose mind is keyed to the highest tension, till his nerve is as steady as the magnetic needle, and his judgment is cool as the north star to which it points, and in this frame of mind is operating upon a suffering patient. It appears to an unthinking mind like the height of cold-blooded heartlessness for him to be able to grasp the knife so firmly and, without a twinge or wince, almost at one stroke, sever the joint at the socket, or lay bare the bone and pierce to the marrow. Yet perhaps there is no more benevolent deed performed on earth than that of the skilful surgeon who, when it is necessary, does not hesitate to cut off the right hand, or pluck out the right eye, or to remove the deadly tumor. And the more thoroughly self-possessed, accurate, and cool the act on his part, the better for the sufferer, the lighter his torture, and the surer his cure. When gangrene threatens a wound, it is better that a part of the body should be promptly removed than that the whole body should perish. The skilful surgeon does not give pain for his own pleasure, but for the profit and salvation of his patient. 

Neither does God pierce our hearts with the sharp two-edged sword of his Word until strong men cry out in agony because of their sin, but that we may be aroused to our peril, that our souls may be saved. See Peter at Pentecost tracing the coming of Jesus Christ through the prophecies, until he reaches the birth of Jesus, then following him on through his ministry, showing that all the prophecies concerning the Messiah were fulfilled in Jesus, and that he indeed was the Savior for whom they had been looking. Then with flashing eyes he turns on them, and the Holy Spirit gives power to the Word as he charges it straight home to the men standing before him, and declares that they themselves had taken Christ with cruel hands and 
murdered him on the cross, and that God had raised him from the dead. In Peter's hand the sharp sword of God's Word pierced these men to their hearts, and instead of being angry with the messenger, or seeking to harm him for his faithfulness, the sword of God so showed them their own wickedness that they cried aloud: "Men and brethren, what shall we do?" But God had not been piercing their hearts with a sword simply to torment them. He did it to show them the deadly gangrene of sin in their hearts, so that they might be healed and saved, and that very day three thousand of those haters of Jesus Christ were happily converted and added to the infant church. 

God's Word has not lost its power. We have seen men and women pierced to the heart by the simple Word of Qod, and beheld them turning to Christ and finding in him the joy of salvation. God's Word is cutting like a sword in some of your consciences now. Some of you were here last evening, when so many were convicted, and the two-edged sword of the Spirit thrust through all the armor of your self-complacency, and out deep down into your heart, and made you confess to your inner self that you were a poor wretched sinner. But startled as you were, and condemned as you felt, you tried to hush your conscience, and thrust your sins back into the darkness. All night, and all day long, you have been trying to patch up your armor so that you might parry or turn aside the sharp thrusts of God's Word. But how unwise it is thus to attempt to blind yourself to your own condition. Would any wise man desire to be in ignorance of the deadly cancer that every day was getting a stronger hold on the vital forces of his life? Would he not rather welcome the skill of the physician that would show him his true condition and give him a chance to be healed? That is the voice of a wise man that invites the sword of God's Word to cut to the very quicky that he may escape from the terrible danger of eternal despair. So if yon are wise, instead of trying to silence your conscience, instead of shutting your ears to God's Word which reveals to you the blackness of the sin which is poisoning your life and separating between you and the peace of God, you will cry out to God in the language of David: "Search me, O God! and know my heart; try me, and know my thoughts, and see if there be any wicked way in me." 

Nothing is ever settled in this world until it is settled right. History is full of illustrations. Men tried to patch up compromises to keep peace in our great republic and leave human slavery in it, and the best brains of the country were given over to that work for a whole generation; but the two-edged sword of God's Word kept ever laying bare the cancer spot of wickedness, and at last it took the surgeon's knife and cost a half million of lives and a billion of gold, with indescribable sorrow and suffering, but it saved the life of the nation and gave us peace. 

But what is true of nations, is true of men and women, is true of you. Nothing is ever settled with you until it is settled right. You may go on covering up your sins, but you will not prosper. You may go on patching up miserable compromises with your conscience, but ever and anon God's Word will lay it bare, and show you the iniquity of your conduct, the certainty of your condemnation. 

But, thank God, the Great Physician is here to save. Not only is God's Word in the world living and active to probe your sins, but Jesus ever lives to make intercession for sinners, and he is here to save you now. I come to call aloud in your ears the good news of his presence and his willingness to save. If you have read John Lothrop Motley's "Rise of the Dutch Republic," you will probably remember how he describes an incident in the imprisonment of Montigny. For a long time he had been shut up in the castle at Segovia. He was in despair and waited hopelessly for death. But one day there passed through the streets of the little town a band of Flemish pilgrims chanting, as was the custom in those times, a low, monotonous song. Theirs was a strange tongue, and they were not understood by those about them. But the prisoner, as he listened, 
found they were singing the language of his own country, and singing for him. And so their real message, all unsuspected by the passing crowds, they sang to him, as of hope, and a way of escape. 

Some of you, it may be, are in discouragement and despair as the Word of God shows you the sinfulness of your own heart.You feel as if you were imprisoned by wicked habits, and as tho the key were held by your enemy. If such is your case, I come to you as a messenger of God's love to stand beneath your prison window and sing the song of redeeming mercy. Whoever else passes on without heeding it, you who know your sin and your bondage ought to listen; for I sing you a song of liberty, of sunny skies, of peace, and God. I sing you the song of him who has declared: "Him that cometh to me I will in no wise cast out," and who is able to save "unto the uttermost."  For this sword of God is a two-edged sword as the edge that cuts sharp and keen into your consciences, revealing your sins, is not keener than the edge of love that seeks to save you. 

The warden of an Eastern state prison tells this wonderful story of the power of love: He was passing out of the prison yard one bitterly cold Christmas morning. Just outside the gate, and crouching close to the high stone wall, he saw a thinly clad little girl of about twelve years, her face and hands blue with cold. She put out one of her thin hands to detain him as he passed. 

"If you please, sir," she said, and stopped, fingering nervously at the fringe of her old shawl, and timidly glancing down. 

"What is it?" he asked. 

"If you please, sir, I'd like to know if I can go inside and see my father. He's in there, and I've brung him something for Christmas. It ain't much, and I didn't spose you'd mind any if he had it. His name is John." 

He recognized the name as that of a life convict and a man notoriously bad. He went back into the prison grounds, the child following him eagerly. Going to his office, the warden sent for the convict. He came, sullen and dejected; in his face was the look of utter hopelessness which the faces of the life prisoners so often wear. The child sprang forward to meet him, the hot tears streaming over her white face. He stepped back, sullen and seemingly angry. No word of welcome came from his lips for the ragged, trembling little creature who stood crying before him, with something clasped in her hands. 

"I just came to say, 'Merry Christmas,' father," she faltered. "I thought maybe you'd be glad to see me. Ain't you any glad, father?" 

Christmas! What would that man not have given for freedom of body and soul! His head drooped. The hard look was going out of his face, his eyes were moistening. His little girl went on, trembling, and tearfully: "I brung you something, father. It was all I could think of, and all I could get. I live at the poor-house now." 

Her trembling fingers began unwrapping the bit of soft white paper in her hand, and she held out a short, shining curl of yellow hair, carefully tied with a bit of old ribbon. "I wouldn't give this to anybody on earth but you, father. You used to truly, really love little Johnny. Mother said you did." 

The man fell on his knees with both hands clasped over his face. "I did love him," he said, hoarsely. "I love him still; bad as I am, I love him still!"

"I know it," said the child, going closer, "and I knowed you'd like this, now that Johnny's dead." 

"Dead! dead!" wailed the broken-hearted man, rocking to and fro still on his knees with his hands over his face. "My little boy?" 

"Yes," said the child, "he died in the poor-house only last week, and there's no one left but me now. But I ain't going to forget you, father. I'm going to stick right by you, 'spite of what folks say, and some day maybe I can get you out of here. I'm going to try. I don't never forget that you are my father." 

But sin and hate and anger and sullenness were no match for a love like that, and the man threw out his arms and gathered the little one to his breast and kissed her again and again as tho his lips were hungry for love. All the sullenness of his heart gave way, and with it seemed to go the hopelessness and the awful bitterness, and the two, clasped in each other's arms, wept and prayed together. When they separated an hour later there were tears on both faces, but love smiled back through the tears from the face of the wicked man as surely as from the face of the little girl. 

If the love of a little child could do that, what shall not the all-encompassing love of Jesus Christ perform? He not only came down from heaven to suffer shame and poverty and ignominy and death for you, but through all the years of your wandering has watched over you with patient love, even when you have slighted him and grieved his tender heart and rejected his offers of mercy. Still he comes back to you again and again, and says with yearning love: "I haven't forgotten yon, no matter who else has forgotten you, nor how your sin has disgraced you. I am still seeking to save you." 

Will you not cry out in the language of the old hymn?

"Just as I am, thy love unknown 
Hath broken every barrier down; 
Now, to be thine, yea, thine alone, 
O Lamb of God, I come! I come!  

Repent (and other devotionals)

REPENT: The Second Step in Effective Prayer

Yesterday we began to look at what makes for effective prayer by using the acronym P-R-A-Y.  The first step is praise.  Today, I want to focus on the second letter of our acronym, "R", which stands for repent.

By repentance in prayer, I mean taking the time before God to search your heart and repent of anything that has come between you and Him.  Psalm 19:12-13 expresses it well,

Who can understand his errors?  Cleanse me from secret faults.  Keep back Your servant also from presumptuous sins; let them not have dominion over me.  Then I shall be blameless, and I shall be innocent of great transgression.

Verse 12 begins with the question, "Who can understand his errors?"  The psalmist is telling us, "You will not always know when you do something wrong.  You will not always know when you get into an area that is not right."

What David is pointing to are the secret faults and presumptuous sins which can still have dominion over you—even though you may not be aware that what you did was wrong.

For example, sometimes we can allow attitudes to get into our hearts that we don't realize are inconsistent with God's character.  Or sometimes we can do and say things that are detrimental, not only to us, but to others, and not really understand the damage we have done.

How do you deal with these sins?  You come before God and say, "God, put the spotlight on anything in my life that has raised a barrier between You and me, and I will repent of it." 

So when you pray, ask God to reveal any sin in your life you may be overlooking.  God will honor your heart of repentance.

~Bayless Conley~

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The Lord hath taken you to be unto Him a people of inheritance. Deuteronomy 4:20

The Apostle' prays that we may know the riches of the glory of God's inheritance in His saints. God is our inheritance, and we are His. We are called to possess Him; He desires to possess us. His nature will yield crops of holy helpfulness to those who diligently seek Him; and He demands crops of holy love and devotion from ours.

What Sovereign Grace is here! - There was nothing in us to distinguish us from others. We were but part of the great moorland waste, when He fenced us in, and placed us under His tillage and husbandry. It is by the grace of God that we are what we are. "To the praise of the glory of His grace, wherein He hath made us accepted in the Beloved: in whom we have redemption through His blood, the forgiveness of sins, according to the riches of His grace."

What responsibility! - Three times over in this chapter we are bidden to take heed to ourselves. It is no small thing to have been the subjects of God's special workmanship; because He is a jealous God, very quick to mark the least symptom of declension, and very searching in His dealing and discipline. As we learn here, our God is a consuming fire, a jealous God.

What Hope! - We cannot derive much from ourselves, however we toil and strive. Self cannot discipline self to any advantage. The field is worked out. The Divine Husbandman must put into us what He would take out of us; He needs therefore to have almost infinite resources. But these are God's, and if we yield ourselves to Him, He can make all grace abound toward us, that we, always having all sufficiency in all things, may abound unto every good work.

~F. B. Meyer~

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Transforming Grace 

Guest Writer: Meet my son-in-law Tripp Prince. We are blessed to have him as our guest writer.

But Saul, still breathing threats and murder against the disciples of the Lord, went to the high priest and asked him for letters to the synagogues at Damascus, so that if he found any belonging to the Way, men or women, he might bring them bound to Jerusalem. Acts 9:1-2

Do you remember what you were like before you knew Jesus? You may have been blessed to grow up in a Christian family where you were taught to follow Christ from an early age, or perhaps you lived many years far from the Lord and were drawn to faith later in life. Whatever your story may be, chances are your conversion is not as dramatic as the story of St. Paul found in Acts 9!

Saul, later known as Paul, was the great persecutor of the early church, actively seeking to imprison and kill those who followed Jesus. If you were a Christian in those early days, you certainly would have known Saul’s name, but he wasn’t someone you’d want to meet! Saul was an enemy of God and God’s people.

Yet the Scriptures remind us that God is in the business of transformation. We serve a God who turns even the most unlikely of hearts back to him, a God who came to redeem and save his enemies (Rom. 5:10).

And all who heard (Saul) were amazed and said, “Is not this the man who made havoc in Jerusalem of those who called upon his name? And has he not come here for this purpose, to bring them bound before the chief priests? But Saul increased all the more in strength, and confounded the Jews who lived in Damascus by proving that Jesus was the Christ.” Acts 9:21-22

We must ask ourselves today, as we look at the conversion of Saul, do we still have the expectation and prayer that God continues to change hearts today? What is our posture towards our friends, family members, or co-workers who are far from the Lord? What about people who even persecute or seek harm and destruction of Christ followers? Do we write them all off as ‘too far gone’ or enemies, or can we instead look to Saul and see how God’s grace can transform the most passionate persecutor of His church into the most exuberant evangelist in all of history.

If God has the power to change Saul, trust that his love can reach the depths of even the most wayward heart. If you’ve never experienced this love or if your walk has grown cold, remember this great conversion story and reach out to God in prayer, asking him to come fill your heart afresh with the same transforming grace that filled Saul’s heart centuries ago.

Prayer: Father, thank you that your love reaches even the hardest of hearts. May I receive today your transformative grace and know your great love for me.

~Wisdom Hunters Devotional~

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Jesus, Author and Finisher

BIBLE MEDITATION:

“Looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith…” Hebrews 12:2a

DEVOTIONAL THOUGHT:

If we will look to Jesus, Jesus will be the author and finisher of our faith. The word “author” in the Greek literally means “example,” “leader,” or “originator.” Jesus is the example of faith, but He’s also the originator of our faith. Faith comes from beholding the Lord Jesus Christ, looking at Him.

You see, all the other heroes of the faith mentioned in Hebrews 11 can cheer us on, but they’re not our chief example. He is the One who never sinned, who never failed. His name is Jesus. The more you behold the Lord Jesus Christ, you’re going to find out that He is the author and finisher.

He’s the one who originates the grace. He’s the one who fires the starting gun. He’s the goal toward which we run. He is the coach who runs alongside us and gives us courage and strength to run the race.

ACTION POINT:

It is Jesus all the way. If you want faith, fix your eyes upon Jesus Christ. Keep “looking unto Jesus.” Your faith will grow. 

~Adrian Rogers~

My Will - or God's Will?

My Will—or God's Will?

J. R. Miller

"May Your will be done." Matthew 6:11

"Not as I will—but as You will." Matthew 26:39

What is success? What is the true aim in life? What should one, setting out to make his way through this world, take as the goal of all his living and striving? 'Views of life' differ widely. Many think they are in this world to make a career for themselves. They set out with some splendid vision of success in their mind—and they devote their life to the realizing of this vision. If they fail in this, they suppose they have failed in life. If they achieve their dream, they consider themselves, and are considered by others, as successful.

The world has no other standard of success. It may be the amassing of wealth; it may be the winning of power among men; it may be triumph of a certain skill; or genius in art, in literature, in music, etc. But whatever the definite object may be, it is purely an earthly ambition. The two elements in the life, according to this view, are, that the career is one which the world honors, and that a man wins distinction in it.

Applying this standard to life—only a few men are really successful. Great men are as rare as lofty mountain peaks. Only a few win the high places; the mass remain in the low valleys. The percentage of those who succeed in business is small. In the professions, too, in literature, in art, in civil life, in all the callings, it is the same—only a few win honor, rise into fame, achieve distinction; while the great multitude remain in obscurity or go down in the dust of earthly defeat.

Is this the only standard of success in life? Do all men, except for the few who win earth's prizes, really fail? Is there no other kind of success? The world's answer gives no comfort to those who find themselves among 'the unhonored'. But there is another sphere—there is a life in which success is not material—but spiritual. One may utterly fail, so far as earthly results are concerned; and yet, in the invisible spiritual realm, be a splendid winner in the race!

The true test of life—is character. Everything else is extraneous, belonging only to the husk, which shall fall off in the day of ripening! Character is the kernel, the wheat, that which is true and enduring. Nothing else is worth while—except that which we can carry with us through death, and into eternity! Paul puts it in a sentence when he says, "So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal." 2 Corinthians 4:18

It is altogether possible that a man may fail of winning any earthly greatness, any distinction among men, anything that will immortalize him in this world's calendars—and yet be richly and nobly successful in spiritual things, in character, in a ministry of usefulness, in things which shall abide—when mountains have crumbled into dust! It is possible for one to fall behind in the race for wealth and honor—and yet all the while to be building up in himself—an eternal fabric of beauty and strength!

Here is a man who at mid-life, is a physical wreck. He has dropped out of the ranks, and fallen far behind those who at the first were his comrades. He is a hopeless invalid. The other day the physician said that he will never get any better. He may live for many years—yet there is nothing before him but pathetic invalidism.

Shall we say that this man's life is a failure because of his physical condition, which has put a stop to all effort and compels him to sit with folded hands in the shadows, watching busy men at their tasks as they continue to win honor and success? No, his life need not be a failure! He has lived nobly all his years. There is not a stain upon his name. He has been building up in himself a character in which the beatitudes shine: loveliness, meekness, hunger for righteousness, mercifulness, purity of heart, the peace-making spirit. He has won no name in the world's ranks—but he has followed Christ faithfully, and has pleased him. He has lived a life of love, too—love which has expressed itself not merely in word—but in countless ministries of grace to those who have turned to him for sympathy and help. He has had God and heaven in all his life, and has lived near the heart of Christ!

No doubt there is a mystery about the strange ways of Providence with him—but we may be sure that this godly man's life is in God's sight, no less successful, when all activity has ceased—than it was in the days when he was busiest, full of energy and toil. Who will say, indeed, that these are not his best days? While the outer man has been perishing, decaying—may not the inner man have been growing in all worthy qualities, in all spiritual graces, in the things which shall endure forever? Ofttimes it is in what the world regards as failure—that a man really achieves his noblest and best success. Many a man has found his soul—only when he had lost his fortune or his health or his place.

We are not accustomed to thank God for our disappointments, for the blighting of our earthly hopes and expectations, for the failure of our plans—but we might safely do so, ofttimes; for it is in such experiences as these—that we are led to the sources of truest blessedness, and most enduring honor.

What is the standard of success in the sphere of the unseen and the eternal? It is the doing of the will of God. He who does the will of God—makes his life radiant and beautiful, though in the world's scale he is rated as having altogether failed in the battle. He who is true, just, humble, pure, pleasing God and living unselfishly—is the only man who really succeeds—while all others fail.

Really, there is no other final and infallible standard of living. One who writes his name highest in earth's lists, and yet has not done God's will, meanwhile, has failed, as God Himself looks at his career. God has a purpose in our creation—and we succeed only when our life carries out this purpose. The most radiant career, as it appears to men, means nothing—if it is not that for which God made us. We fail in life—if we do not realize God's will for us.

We live worthily—only when we do what God sent us here to do. A splendid career in the sight of men—has no splendor in God's sight—if it is but the striving of human ambition; if it is not God's ideal for the life.

Not the making of a fine worldly career, therefore—but the simple doing of God's will—is the one true aim in living. Thus only can we achieve real success. If we do this, though we fail in the earthly race—we shall not fail in God's sight. We may make no name among men, may raise for ourselves no monument of earthly glory—but if we please God by a life of obedience and humble service, and build up within us a character in which divine virtues shine—we shall have attained abiding success.

The only way, therefore, to make our life nobly and truly successful, is to devote ourselves to the doing of God's will. It is not the things we want to do, that are the best—but the things God would have us do. Ofttimes these may be things which to our thought it is scarcely worth while to do, and the turning aside from our fine schemes and conspicuous efforts—to attend to these trivialities may appear to be a wasting of talent and time. But always, God's will is the grandest thing we can find to do in all the world, though it is in men's eyes—the lowliest task our hands can do.

An autobiographical passage in the life of Norman McLeod illustrates this. "My life," he says, "is not what I would have chosen. I often long for quiet, for reading, and for thought. It seems to me to be a very paradise to be able to read, to think, go deep into things, to gather the glorious riches of intellectual culture. But God in his providence, has forbidden this to me. I must spend hours in receiving people who wish to speak to me about all manner of trifles; I must reply to letters about nothing; I must engage in public work on everything; I must employ my life on what seems uncongenial, vanishing, temporary, wasteful. Yet God knows me better than I know myself. He knows my gifts, my abilities, my failings, and my weakness; what I can do—and what I cannot do. So I desire to be led, and not to lead; to follow him. I am quite sure he has thus enabled me to do a great deal more in ways which seemed to me almost a waste of life, in advancing his kingdom; than I would have done any other way."

The most successful life—is the one which submits the most cheerfully and the most completely, to the will of God. It will not be an indolent life, nor will it be aimless and purposeless. It is the will of God—that every ability of our being shall be brought out, trained, and disciplined to its highest possibility, and devoted to the noblest and worthiest service. But the dominant influence in our life, should always be the will of God—and not any ambition of our own. Then shall we fulfill the purpose for which God made us, when he sent us into the world. And this will be the noblest career possible for us!

A Crown for the Man Who Fails

A Crown For the Man Who Fails
by Louis Albert Banks (1855-1933)

"For I say unto you, Among those that are born of women there is not a greater prophet
than John the Baptist: but he that is least in the kingdom of God is greater than he."
                                                                                               —Luke 7:28
"And she went forth, and said unto her mother, What shall I ask? 
And she said, The head of John the Baptist."
                                                                                              —Mark 6:24

THESE two brief Scriptures place before us two pictures in the life of a strong and interesting man. In the first one we have the testimony of the best judge of human nature that ever walked among men; He who more perfectly than anybody else knew what was in man. This competent judge, speaking to the multitudes that thronged about Him, declared that John was as great a man as ever lived. And yet it is only a few days thereafter that we see the head of this great man coming into the palace dining-room on a charger, as a prize to a thoughtless dancing-girl, to appease the vengeance of her dissolute and vindictive mother. To the superficial observer the life of John seems to have ended in failure. All his ministry of promise, and it had promised much, is broken down at what seems to be the opening of a great career. To our short-sighted judgment no one could have been so well fitted to be the chief apostle of the new faith as the man who with such, simplicity and fidelity and such dauntless courage had proclaimed the coming of the Christ. He is still a young man, scarcely entering on middle life. His best years ought to be yet before him. But all this promise of a career of greatness, which is enhanced by the sublime words of appreciation of Jesus Himself, is eclipsed by the darkness of the dungeon, and finally destroyed by the executioner's axe. And yet we all feel that the life of John the Baptist was not a failure, that rather it was a great and splendid success. For more than eighteen hundred years poor old Herod has been dethroned as a corrupt, beggarly outcast It is the universal verdict of public opinion; and John has been enthroned as a true and noble character who filled well his mission. Surely there must be more than appears on the surface of life if this is so. 

Now, John is only an illustration of what is going on constantly among men and women in every walk of life. There are many people with honest hearts and good purposes, who are faithful to God and their duty, loving their fellows, and yet their lives fail of the usual crown of devotion and toil, and they are cut down just as the blossom is beginning to bud upon their tree of promise. Some men fight and win. They are crowned with glory. All the way along they are cheered by sympathetic multitudes and followed by applause. Others, just as true, fight as faithfully, only to be defeated and forgotten of men. Now, the whole spirit of our Bible and our Christianity is full of consolation and comfort for people who fight honestly for the right, and, so far as the world can see, fail. 

Walt Whitman writes in that strange style of his, which, however, is not strange enough to hide the true poetic insight into human nature which it discloses, a song for the men who fail,

With music strong I come, with my cornets and my drums; 
I play not marches for accepted victors only, 
I play marches for conquered and slain persons. 
Have you heard that it was good to gain the day?

I also say it is good to fall; battles are lost in the same 
spirit in which they are won. 

I beat and pound for the dead, 
I blow through my embouchures my loudest and gayest for them; 

Vivas to those who have failed! 
And to those whose war vessels sank in the sea! 
And to those themselves who sank in the sea! 
And to all generals that lost engagements, and all overcome heroes! 
And the numberless unknown heroes equal to the greatest heroes known ! 

Did we think victory great ? 

So it is ; but now it seems to me . . . that defeat is great, 
And that death and dismay are great. 

Christ gave a marvellous illustration of how easy it is for men to blunder in their estimate of what constitutes success and failure in His story of Dives and Lazarus. Everybody thought Dives was a prosperous man. And, no doubt, all were just as unanimous that Lazarus was a most miserable failure. Perhaps even the street curs who licked his sores had a contempt for the poor wretch who could not drive them away. And yet in the eve of the All-Wise Judge, Dives was a failure, and Lazarus was a conspicuous success. I wonder if some of us are not making the same mistake in our judgments now. 

In Beatrice Harraden's brilliant book, "Ships that Pass in the Night," there is given a unique and interesting little parable in which the Genius of Failure and the Genius of Success passed away from earth together, and found themselves in a foreign land. Success still wore her laurel wreath which she had worn on earth. There was a look of ease about her whole appearance, and there was a smile of pleasure and satisfaction on her face as though she knew she had done well, and had deserved her honors. Failure's head was bowed; no laurel wreath encircled it; her wan face bore traces of pain. She had once been beautiful and hopeful, but both hope and beauty had been lost in sorrow and disappointment. They stood together, these two who differed so widely in their appearance, waiting for an audience with the sovereign of the foreign land. Finally an old gray-haired man came to them and asked their names. 

"I am Success," said Success, advancing a step forward and smiling at him as she pointed to her laurel wreath. 

He shook his head. 

"Ah," he said, "do not be too confident. Very often things go by opposite names in this land. What you call Success we often call Failure, and what you call Failure we call Success. Do you see these two men waiting there? The one nearer to us was thought to be a good man in your world. The other was generally accounted bad; but here we call the bad man good, and the good man bad. That seems strange to you. Well, then, look yonder. You considered that statesman to be sincere; but we say he was insincere. We chose as our poet-laureate a man at whom your world scoffed. Ay, and those flowers yonder : for us they have a fragrant charm ; we love to see them near us. But you do not even take the trouble to pluck them from the hedges where they grow in rich profusion. So, you see, what we value as a treasure, you do not value at all." 

Then he turned to Failure. 

"I am Failure," she said sadly. 

He took her by the hand. 

"Come, now, Success," he said to her, "let me lead you into the Presence-Chamber." 

Then she who had been called Failure, and was now called Success, lifted up her bowed head, and raised her weary frame, and smiled at the music of her new name. And with that smile she regained her beauty and her hope. And hope having come back to her, all her strength returned. 

I wonder if Lazarus had an experience like that when the angels bore him in triumph to Abraham's bosom. 

Many a splendid success is built upon the heroic failures that have gone before. A mining expert who was recently sent to investigate some Arizona properties for Denver capitalists, on his return reported the finding of a most remarkable natural bridge formed by a tree of agatized wood, spanning a canon forty-five feet in width. The tree had at some remote time fallen and become imbedded in the slip of some great inland sea or mighty water overflow. The slip became in time sandstone, and the wood gradually passed through the stages of mineralization until it became a wonderful tree of solid agate. In after years the water washed away the sandstone until the canon was formed; and the flint-like substance of the 
aeratized wood having resisted the erosion, it remained to form the bridge. Where the bark has been broken and torn away from the trunk of the tree, the characteristic colors of jasper and agate are seen. To the naked eye the wood is beautiful, but under a miner's magnifying glass the brilliancy of the colorings is clearly brought out in all their wondrous beauty. So many a life tree, prostrated and forgotten, comes to be the beautiful bridge over which the future generations walk to triumph. 

The common soil of human life is constantly producing fragrant flowers of heroism and self-sacrifice for the exhibition of which saints and martyrs and heroes have been crowned; yet for every romantic and splendid deed which lias succeeded in gaining 1 immortal honor among men, there are ten thousand actions just as beautiful that go unsung. 

One of the New York daily papers only this week contained the story of a Hungarian whose wife has been ill at the Bellevue Hospital. The other morning he walked several miles to the hospital, carrying in his arms an eighteen months' old baby boy and a few pieces of stale bread, which in his ignorance he thought his wife needed. He was found staggering about like a drunken man outside the walls of the hospital. When brought in, both he and the babe seemed in a sort of stupor. Finally he managed to make the warden understand that neither himself nor child had eaten anything for three days. The warden sent for some milk. It was offered to the babe, who was too weak to swallow at first, but finally managed to drink. When the milk was offered to the father lie declined to accept it, saying his share should be given to the baby; and the noble fellow, though he was starving, would not touch it until he was assured that the child should have all the nourishment it wanted. To my mind the story of Sir Philip Sidney and his glass of water on the battle-field does not reveal a nobler quality of soul than that possessed by this poor Hungarian. 

On a train going into Philadelphia the other day a party of fashionable young people, who had been out to a club-house picnic, filled the cars. They were all of this class with the exception of one tired, faded-looking old woman, who carried in her arms a bundle done up in a newspaper was a loosely tied, slip-shod package that she handled with care. When the crowd surged into the car she took her seat at the extreme end, in one of the places that brought her right in the midst of a group of particularly wild and gay young revellers. With anxious care she held on her lap the package done up in its greasy paper, and ever and anon a tear-drop fell on it. A lurch of the train threw one of the young fellows, who was sitting on the arm of the seat, almost on to the precious bundle. With a startled exclamation, and voice made shrill by fear, the woman cried,  "Look out! Can't you see you are crushing the bundle?" 

"I beg ten thousand pardons, madam," replied the youth, who, owing to his awkward lurch and the sharp exclamation of the woman, had raised a laugh at his expense. "Won't you allow me to secure you a seat in the baggage-car, where you and your trunk will be in no danger of being harmed by contact with the wide world?" And in an undertone he added to his companions, "It's the place for cattle, anyhow. The English system of first, second, and third class is far superior to our mode of 
crowding in with all sorts of creatures." 

The quick ear of the woman had caught the word "cattle," and she sprang to her feet like a tigress. 

"Cattle, is it!" she exclaimed. "I may not be a lady like your pretty friend, but I am a woman, with a woman's feelings. That bundle has flowers in it for me dead baby. While yez were dancin' and drinkin', me little boy was lyin' cold and stiff, and these two arms, that should have held him, had to wash the dishes at the club-house to get money enough to take me back to the day nursery where I left him this mornin'. I have known me little boy was dead for four hours; and with me heart breakin' I had to go on with me work to get me money. There's only a few buttercups in that bundle; but me little boy loved them, and I mane to carry them to where he is, and place them in the little dead hands and around the little body. Oh, me baby! me baby!" 

And the poor mother, overcome by her feelings, sank into her seat and gave way for the first time to an unrestrained fit of sobbing and crying that shook her frame and left not a dry eye in the car. To my mind, history does not hold a more poetic vision of mother-love than is revealed in that poor old Irishwoman and her bundle of buttercups for her dead baby. 

Harvard College has just received a very remarkable gift. A colored woman, Harriet Hajden, escaped from slavery before the war, and found refuge with her husband and baby in Canada. During the Rebellion her heart went out in prayerful longings to help her own poor people, and she came to be acquainted with Governor Andrew of Massachusetts, and was of great assistance to him in enlisting negro soldiers. This woman has just paid into the treasury of Harvard College, out of her own hard work, a scholarship fund of five thousand dollars, the annual income of which is to be used perpetually to aid each year some deserving colored student. There are no scales on earth fine enough to weigh a gift like that, or to measure the sacrifices and tears and prayers and holy devotion that have gone into the saving of of that five thousand dollars. I can imagine Jesus standing by at the treasury as of old, and looking at all the gifts of hundreds and thousands of millions as they came into the treasury of education last year, and I can hear Him say, as this poor old black woman hobbles up on her crutch with her bag of savings, "She hath given more than they all." The world may count her life a failure, but it will shine out through the great eternities as a marvellous success. 

The eleventh chapter of Hebrews, which is called sometimes the roll-call of the heroes of the faith, has also been aptly called an "Epic of Failure; " for it is from beginning to end a glorification of men who were foiled and defeated. Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Joseph, Moses, and multitudes of others who were just as faithful and true, but whose names were not even gathered for history's urn, although the world was not worthy of them, walked not by sight but by faith, lived ever in hope of the promise, and yet all died without entering into the promised land which they longed for. They all achieved their final victory by failure. And when we come for our final illustration to Him who is at once our Saviour and our Exemplar, the Christ, what more conspicuous lesson of His life than that great triumph cannot be had except at the cost of failure? 

The very mob that surrounded His cross shouted this in His dying face when they said, "He saved others, Himself He cannot save." To human judg-ment no life ever ended in such conspicuous failure as that of Jesus Christ ; and yet it is the only life that has reached a perfect success. How absolute the failure seemed on that day of the crucifixion! Christ seemed given over to the power of His enemies. Suppose you had stood in that street in Jerusalem, in front of Pilate's judgment hall, and watched as the howling mob came pouring out after the final decision. And as you watch the poor, friend- less man fainting beneath His cross, you say to yourself, "Alas ! is this, too, a failure? I had hoped that this man might have brought redemption. As I have listened to His won-derful words, and caught the heavenly tones of love in His voice, and looked on His mighty works, I have hoped that here might be the Divine Personage who was to bring salvation to the race. But, alas, He, too, has failed! What a pitiful end for what promised so much!" And if, as you thus meditated aloud, some proud Jew, perchance a member of the Sanhedrim had overheard you, and you had turned to him with your question, "Where, oh, where is the secret balm that is to heal the heart-aches of the world and lift mankind up to righteousness and real triumph?" he would have pointed you to the temple, and said, "In yonder temple. In the Jewish faith and religion is the world's greatest power, and it shall yet triumph over all." And if as you listened to him some bright-eyed Greek had passed that way, and you had turned to him with your question, he would have replied, "Have you been at Athens? Have you listened to her philosophers? Have you looked on her paintings and her sculpture? In Grecian art and learning is hidden the world's most splendid force."' And if while you listened to him some proud Roman soldier had come along with martial tread, and you had made your inquiry, he would have said, " Have you been in Rome? She is to be the eternal city. Have you seen her magnificent armies? Have you studied her grand and simple laws? In Roman force and organization is the mighty power which is to make all the earth bow before her triumphant eagles." And if you had pointed them to that poor, despised, condemned maker of parables, and said, "You are all wrong; the simple words of that poor prisoner there will outlive your temple or your sculpture or your armies; that despised man, fainting under His cross, is the mightiest force in the world," how they would have laughed you to scorn. But the centuries go by, and Roman and Grecian and Jewish civilizations are swept away like chaff before the wind in the summer's harvest-field, and the crucified failure from Nazareth fills the earth with His power, and counts the armies of His devoted soldiery by hundreds of millions! 

With such failure and such triumph before us we can afford to do our duty and leave the result to God.  

Take Off That Overcoat! (and other devotionals)

Take Off that Overcoat!

BIBLE MEDITATION:

“Wherefore, seeing we also are compassed about with so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which doth so easily beset us….” Hebrews 12:1

DEVOTIONAL THOUGHT:

If you’re going to run a race, how do you prepare yourself? First, you’ve got to lay the weights aside. Notice athletes. They run in very light clothing. The less weight, the better. One thing you’ll never see is someone in the Olympics, running in an overcoat. It’s not going to happen. They get as light as they possibly can. You have to lay aside every weight.

The Greek word weight does not mean something that’s sinful. It just means something that burdens you, that holds you down. There are some things that are not bad in themselves. Nothing wrong with an overcoat. You just don’t wear an overcoat when you’re running a race. Paul said: “All things are lawful unto me, but all things are not expedient” (1 Corinthians 6:12). Friend, it may be some recreational habit you have. It may be some cottage in the woods. It may be some acquaintance, some hobby, too much television or sleep. Paul is saying, “Something may be lawful for me, but if it’s not expedient, if it doesn’t speed me on my course, then I need to leave it alone.”

ACTION POINT:

Ask yourself, “Is there something in my life that’s hindering my walk with Christ? Something that’s holding me back? Is there something that is excess baggage? Something keeping me from being all I ought to be for the Lord Jesus Christ? Whatever it is, if you want to win the race, lay it aside. Good things become bad things when they keep you from the best things. 

~Adrian Rogers~

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Speak no more unto Me of this matter. Deuteronomy 3:26

We are to pray without ceasing; always praying, never fainting; asking, seeking, knocking. But there are some subjects concerning which God says, "Speak no more unto Me of this." In some cases these topics have to do with others, but more often with ourselves, as in the case of the Apostle Paul (2Co 12:9).

It is an awful thing when God says of certain individuals, Ephraim is joined to idols, let him alone; and when the conviction is wrought within us that the sin unto death is being committed, concerning which even the Apostle John said, "I do not say that he should pray for it." Such times come comparatively rarely; and so long as you feel able to pray for another, so long as no negative has been spoken, you may be sure that God waits to be entreated, and that your prayer will assuredly be answered.

But have you not realized at times that God has said about some earthly boon you were craving?-'' Child, do not ask Me more, leave it with Me. I know what you want, and what is best for you. Seek first My kingdom, and all these things, literally or in their equivalent, shall be added." It is well when we have been praying eagerly, to allow God's winnowing-fan to pass over our petitions, to winnow away all that is not in His mind to give; so that only those desires may remain which His Spirit has indicted, and which He is therefore pledged to bestow. If He does not give the exact thing you ask, He will give the Pisgah view and more grace. He will say to you, as to Paul, "My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness."

~F. B. Meyer~

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Shine as Many Stars

"And they that be wise shall shine as the brightness of the firmament; and they that turn many to righteousness as the stars for ever and ever"   (Daniel 12:3).

Here is something to wake me up. This is worth living for. To be wise is a noble thing in itself: in this place it refers to a divine wisdom which only the LORD Himself can bestow. Oh, to know myself, my God, my Savior! May I be so divinely taught that l may carry into practice heavenly truth and live in the light of it! Is my life a wise one? Am I seeking that which I ought to seek? Am I living as I shall wish I had lived when I come to die? Only such wisdom can secure for me eternal brightness as of yonder sunlit skies.

To be a winner of souls is a glorious attainment. I had need to be wise if I am to turn even one to righteousness; much more if I am to turn many, Oh, for the knowledge of God, of men, of the Word, and of Christ, which will enable me to convert my fellowmen and to convert large numbers of them! I would give myself to this, and never rest till I accomplish it. This will be better than winning stars at court. This will make me a star, a shining star, a star shining forever and ever; yea, more, it will make roe shine as many stars. My soul, arouse thyself. LORD, quicken me!

~Charles Spurgeon~

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Before You Set Out

When the cloud remained over the tabernacle a long time, the Israelites obeyed the LORD's order and did not set out.  Sometimes the cloud was over the tabernacle only a few days; at the LORD's command they would encamp, and then at his command they would set out. Sometimes the cloud stayed only from evening till morning, and when it lifted in the morning they set out. Whether by day or by night, whenever the cloud lifted, they set out. Whether the cloud stayed over the tabernacle for two days or a month or a year, the Israelites would remain in camp and not set out; but when lifted set out.Numbers 9:19-22 (NIV)

The words “set out” are so prevalent in this section of Scripture. When God commanded, the Israelites set out in obedience. If God did not command, the Israelites stayed encamped. Jesus said to His disciples in Matthew 16:24, “If anyone desires to come after Me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross and follow Me.”  As believers, we are commanded to follow Jesus. Many times we act as if God should be following our desires, our goals and our agendas. Jesus doesn’t follow us. He commands us to be obedient and follow Him. We have the presence of the Lord dwelling within us. We can be led like the Israelites by watching for His lead and listening to His voice through the Word of God.

There are times He tell us to “go” and there are times He tells us “to be still and know that He is God.” Following Jesus leads us to the tops of mountains as well as through the valley of Baca. But He is there, leading and guiding and loving us through it. We will learn to weep with Him as we see things that hurt His heart and rejoice with Him as we embrace the things that bring Him joy. One thing is for certain, He will never leave you or forsake you. Our tendency is to be tempted to leave Him, never the other way around.

Today, be sure that you spend time in His word, listening for His counsel and ask Him to help you follow His lead. Make His footsteps your pathway as you turn to Jesus throughout the day in obedience before you set out.

~Daily Disciples Devotional~

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Are You Redeemed? by Billy Graham After preaching all over the world and observing the work of the church, I am convinced that there are great hordes of people loosely identified with the church for various reasons who have never experienced scriptural conversion. The distinguishing mark of Christ’s disciples was that people could tell that “they had been with Jesus” (Acts 4:13). Great sections of the church today have been rendered sterile and nonproductive because Christ’s spark of divine light is not resident within them. Only a healthy church can help a sick world. Much social action today is nothing but sheer humanism. I am convinced that we cannot save the world until we ourselves are first saved. We cannot change the world until we as members of the church have been transformed by the power of Christ. We cannot redeem society until we ourselves have first been redeemed by Christ.