This past Sunday we had a baptism after our morning service. During the sermon, I had asked for 4 volunteers from among those who would be baptized to come to the front to help me with something. “It’s not going to be painful or embarrassing,” I told them. Three young girls immediately jumped up and started toward the front, and then one boy joined them, after I laughed and said, “Where are the young men?”
I was prepared for this demonstration because I had a conversation the day before with my son-in-law, a captain with the Leavenworth, Kansas fire department. He told me there are four positions on their fire trucks. On each truck there is a driver. You can probably figure out what he does. In the seat next to the driver sits the captain. He is in charge of the scene, whenever the truck arrives at the place to which it has been sent. Then behind these two are the nozzle man and the hydrant man. The nozzle man is in charge of the hoses, getting the pipes unrolled and to the structure that is on fire. The hydrant man is in charge of locating the nearest hydrant, so the pipe can be connected to a water source.
I assigned each of the four children a job, and told them that they were firefighters, on their way to a fire. We all looked out over the congregation, as though we could see the fire in the distance. I asked them to remind me what their jobs were. “Driver! Captain! Nozzle man! Hydrant man!” they shouted, with varying degrees of enthusiasm. I asked them again, “What’s your job?” They answered again, looking intently down the road at the blazing inferno. Then I said, “But wait a minute. What is your job, really? I mean, what are we going down the road to do?” They looked at me with puzzled expressions, and then one of the youngest girls said with authority, “Put out the fire.” Ah, yes. Don’t forget the fire.
Do you remember what Jesus said to his disciples right before he ascended into heaven? In simplest terms he said: Go. Make. Disciples. We live to follow Jesus, and to make disciples of others who will grow as followers of Jesus Christ, and make disciples themselves.
In the same way that God did not design just “certain humans” to be able to reproduce, God did not call only certain Christians to “go, make disciples.” He has given each one of us who belong to him everything we need to be able to do that. If you say, “I can’t do it,” let me remind you that you have the Spirit of the living God in you. If you say, “but evangelism is not my gift,” that is OK, too. It is not most people’s gift. But the gift of evangelism is just an extra empowerment to do what each of us is called to do: be a witness for Jesus Christ.
Some say, “Well, I witness with my life.” That’s great! But when Paul asked for the Ephesian church to pray for him, he didn’t say, “pray that my life might be more visible to the lost.” He asked them to “pray for me, that words may be given to me in opening my mouth boldly to proclaim the mystery of the gospel.” Sometimes people misquote St. Francis of Assisi, who never said, “Preach the Gospel at all times; if necessary, use words.” The closest he got to it was encouragement that we must make sure our lives match what we say. To say “preach the Gospel at all times, if necessary use words” is like saying, “Feed the hungry at all times, if necessary, use food.”
If we are to make disciples, we will need to use words. If you say you don’t have time, you misunderstand the command. Jesus was saying, “As you go,” make disciples. It doesn’t mean you have to stand on a street corner and preach, although you can. It means that your lifestyle intentionally becomes gospel-oriented.
Like the four firefighters, we each have different talents, ministries, and callings. But they all are given by God to serve the same purpose: to make disciples. Don’t forget the fire.
Jehoshaphat got word that three nations were joining forces to come against Jerusalem. So he gathered the people, proclaimed a fast, and prayed, “O our God, will you not execute judgment on them? For we are powerless against this great horde that is coming against us. We do not know what to do, but our eyes are on you.” May I interrupt the story to say, this is a great motto for graduates? “I have no power. I don’t know what to do.” That is true of you and me, whether we believe it or not. Here’s the truth about how God responds to such humility, to all who also say, “My eyes are on God.” He loves it. He gives grace. He runs to show himself strong on our behalf.
I imagine God hearing this prayer of Jehoshaphat and turning to his angels in heaven, saying, “Oh! Did you hear that? This is a man who runs to me for refuge. Stand back and watch this.” God then sent his prophet to Jehoshaphat and said, “Don’t be afraid. The battle is not yours, but the Lord’s.”
Lesson 1: When God is our refuge, our battles become his battles. Are you trying to keep a stiff upper lip and ‘go it alone?’ Why would you do that?
Then the prophet told the king what God had said, that the people were to go to a certain place the next morning. “You will not need to fight in this battle,” God said. “Stand firm, hold your position, and see the salvation of the Lord on your behalf.”
Lesson 2: Sometimes the hardest thing to do is to be still and trust God. It is much harder to stand and see, than it is to run away, or to run and fight. Sometimes we think that standing and trusting isn’t doing anything. We need to remember the words of Jesus in response to the question, “What must we do, to be doing the works of God?” Jesus responded, “This is the work of God, that you believe in him whom he has sent.” Believe God. Run to him for refuge.
Jehoshaphat and the people of Judah all got up early the next morning.
Lesson 3: When God is moving, much sleep is overrated at best, and a total waste of time at worst.
They went to the place God had told them, sending the praise singers out first.
Lesson 4: When our confidence is in God, we will sing praises to Him. We will not be able to help it.
When the praises started, God rose up and set ambushes against the enemies of Judah. Here’s where the story makes us do a double take. Two of the nations that had come together to attack Jerusalem suddenly attacked the third, utterly destroying it. If that is not strange enough, check this out: The two armies who had combined forces to kill the third army then glared at each other and started killing each other off, until there was no one left. How did that work? I imagine the last two people looked at each other, said, “Ready, set, go!” and each ran his sword into the other at the same time. When the people of Judah got there, they looked at the scene, and all they saw were dead bodies. “None had escaped.”
Lesson 5: We don’t have to pick up after God; he is thorough in everything he does.
There you have it: five lessons to live by, and not just for graduates. These truths apply to all who would humbly follow Jesus Christ, giving daily to him what has been given freely by him: our very lives.
A little boy said to the girl next door, “I wonder what my mother would like for Mother’s Day?” She said, “You could decide to keep your room clean and orderly, and go to bed as soon as she calls you. You could brush your teeth without having to be told, and quit fighting with your brothers and sisters, especially at the dinner table.” He replied, “No, I mean something practical.”
On the eve of Mother’s Day, I offer three practical gifts from Scripture. These are part of God’s refrigerator art if you will, pictures of faithful motherhood.
In Psalm 128, the mother is pictured as a fruitful vine in the very heart of the house. The godly mother has a central place of responsibility in the home that, though she may not see it through diaper pails and dishpan hands, will bear fruit for generations to come.
In 1 Samuel 1, the mother is pictured as the greatest intercessor her son would ever know. It was Hannah’s prayer that touched the hem of God’s garment, and it was Hannah’s spiritual influence on Samuel that shaped and prepared him to fulfill God’s calling on his life.
A London editor once submitted to Winston Churchill a list of all those who had been Churchill’s teachers. Churchill returned the list with this comment: “You have omitted to mention the greatest of my teachers — my mother.” And Charles Spurgeon said, “I cannot tell you how much I owe to the custom on Sunday evenings while we were yet children for Mother to stay home with us, and then we sat around the table and read verse after verse and she explained the Scriptures to us. Then came a mother’s prayer; and some of the words of our mother’s prayer we shall never forget even when our hair is gray.” I don’t know if there is a more powerful force on this earth than a mother’s prayers for her children.
In 2 Timothy 1, the mother is pictured as a woman of genuine faith. Apparently Timothy’s father was not a believer, but God worked through his mother and his grandmother to give him a sound foundation. Is there anything more precious in a mother than genuine faith? The man who would become the most beloved companion of the greatest missionary the world has ever known learned the Word of God as a young child on his mother’s knee. She had genuine faith, not the wishy-washy easy-believism that so many in the church subscribe to today. Genuine faith impacts every person it touches.
Consider Susanna Wesley, who was the youngest of twenty-five children and who gave birth to nineteen herself. Eleven of her children died in childhood. Her husband left her for a time, even serving extended sentences in debtor’s prison. O, how God used Susanna Wesley to give away her faith to her children. As each child turned five, she tutored them in the alphabet and then, beginning in Genesis, she taught them to read, word by word, from the Scriptures. “I wonder at your patience,” her husband Samuel once said. “You have told that child twenty times the same thing.” “If I had satisfied myself by mentioning it only nineteen times,” Susanna Wesley answered, “I should have lost all my labor. It was the twentieth time that crowned it!”
I am thankful for the mother who raised me and for the wife and mother I love and live with. Happy Mother’s Day to all of you who serve so faithfully. You are a gift that could never be repaid in this lifetime.
There was a time when my wife and kids could write about a family vacation in their journal even before we left. Day One: “Dad got frustrated today in traffic and yelled, ‘What in the world are you doing, dude?’ to the guy in front of us.” Day Two: Dad couldn’t believe the cost of admission at the Revolutionary War site. Much grumbling ensued. Day Three: Mom and Dad are in a cold war. It started when Dad was tailgating a guy who wouldn’t move into the right lane, and Mom asked him to back off a little.
It wasn’t always that way, but even one time would have been too many. And it wasn’t always with my family that I showed how immature I could be. It even happened a few times on mission trips when the unexpected occurred.
When the 4-man mission team from our church had a 12-hour layover in London a number of years ago, we had a blast, got along great and enjoyed every minute of it. I remember witnessing to some people I sat next to on the train from the airport. I was in a great mood, the sun was shining, we were touring a world-famous city, and life was good! Then it happened. We were about to go find the train that would take us back to the airport to catch our flight, when the bottom dropped out. The mother of all thunderstorms hit, knocking out the power, stopping the trains from running. We were stuck, stranded for an hour, waiting and worrying about getting back to Heathrow.
Guess what I don’t remember about the ride on the train back to the airport, wondering the whole way if we would miss our flight? I don’t remember witnessing to a soul. I wasn’t telling anybody about Jesus. I am ashamed to admit that I was too busy fretting and grumbling. When we got to the airport, I led the way, running with all my might through the terminal, yelling at the other guys to keep up. When we finally arrived at the gate, the attendant shook her head sadly. It was too late. Our plane for Kenya had taken off without us.
Every time I read the story about Jesus and his disciples caught in a storm on the Sea of Galilee, I am reminded of this truth: God orchestrates the storms of our lives. He plans every one of them for our good and for his glory. Each one teaches us how to trust him.
Jesus was asleep in the boat when the storm broke out. The disciples, who were no slouches when it came to handling a boat in tempestuous waters, panicked. They cried out to Jesus, who awoke, rebuked the wind and the waves, and the storm instantly ceased. His question for the disciples was a question for the ages: “Where is your faith?”
If our faith is in the modern gurus (Chopra, Maharishi Mahesh Yogi, and others), then I would humbly suggest that we have no hope of weathering the storms of life successfully. We will eventually run into a storm for which our ability and their ‘counsel’ is simply not sufficient, especially when we face the inevitable storm of death. You can trust the Lord, and him alone, to take you to the other side. No one else can. No one else will.
Those who follow Jesus will have to go through storms. Many of them. I would guess that every person reading this column right now is either in the middle of a storm, coming out of a storm, or getting ready to enter a storm. Here’s the truth we need to remember. God does not promise to deliver us from the storms. He promises to deliver us through them.
If God is in the boat, in the car, on the plane, or anywhere else I happen to be, then I should be able to trust, and be at peace. Those riding with me are glad to hear it.