100 Sermon Illustrations on Reputation

Some years ago when I was with the Billy Graham team in a crusade, a businessman came forward one night and received Christ as his Savior. The next Sunday he went to a church where he sometimes attended.

After the service, he walked up to one of the leading elders in this church and said, “I was at the Billy Graham meeting last week out at the ball park. I went forward and received Christ.”

“I heard about it,” the elder replied, “and I am delighted.”

Then the businessman said, “How long have you and I been associated in business?”

“About twenty-three years, I think,” the elder answered.

“Have you known Christ as your Savior all that time?” the businessman asked.

“Yes, I have,” he answered.

“Well, I don’t remember you ever speaking to me about Christ during those years,” the businessman said. The elder hung his head, and the businessman continued: “I have thought highly of you. In fact, I thought so highly of you that I felt if anyone could be as fine a man as you and not be a Christian, then I didn’t have to be a Christian either.”

The elder was a fine man, but he did not have this first mark of a disciple of Jesus Christ.

*

Dr. Harry Ironside used to tell a story about a man who lived in a small country town in England. One day, he went to London where he would need to stay for several days. He was glad to be there on a Sunday because that gave him opportunity to hear some of the great preachers of that day. Writing home to his wife, he said: “Last Sunday I went to hear Dr. 'Jones' and in the evening I went to the Metropolitan Tabernacle to hear Charles Spurgeon. I was so greatly impressed by both of them. Dr. Jones is certainly a great preacher, but Mr. Spurgeon has a great Savior.”

I'm Ron Hutchcraft and I want to have A Word With You today about “The Only Impression that Matters.”

So who are people impressed with after they have been with you? Are they impressed with you, or are they impressed with your Jesus? In many ways, that's the measure of the authenticity and impact of your life.

There have been few more brilliant, more gifted men to walk this planet than the great Apostle Paul. But he didn't want people thinking about him. He wanted to leave people thinking about Jesus. He says so in our word for today from the Word of God in 2 Corinthians 4:5. “We do not preach ourselves, but Jesus Christ as Lord, and ourselves your servants for Jesus' sake.” It's not about us, folks. It's all about Jesus. And that is a relief!

I'm guessing there are some people close to you who do not have a relationship with Jesus - and no hope of heaven without Him. And there are probably some of them at least who you've never told about what Jesus did for them, and I bet I can guess why - one word - fear. Fear of what they'll think, fear for your relationship or your position, fear of messing it up, fear of rejection. All the fears that keep us from telling about Jesus have one thing in common - they're all about me. They might reject me, they might think less of me, I might mess it up. We trip over our preoccupation with ourselves and never get to the people whose eternity depends on them hearing about Jesus.

But it's not about me. “We preach not ourselves, but Jesus Christ as Lord.” It's all about Jesus. That's why Paul said in 1 Corinthians 2:2, “I resolved to know nothing while I was with you except Jesus Christ and Him crucified.” There it is, Jesus and His cross. That's your message. Knowing what Jesus did for them on the cross - that's the only impression that matters. Don't encumber the simplicity of that glorious Good News with other things like church, religion or cultural issues, even lifestyle issues. There's no point in attacking the lost lifestyle of a person who's lost! What a surprise they act as they do - they need a Savior. Let's focus on that!

There's something very wrong if you are using Jesus to make a name for yourself or to impress other people with you. You're actually hijacking His glory. And there's something wrong if you're not telling people about Jesus because of something about you. It's not who's doing the telling that's the issue, it's who you're telling about - the One who offers the greatest love in the world.

Just take them to the cross and show them that. And He offers them the greatest power in the world. Just take them to the empty tomb and show them that. He will give you the words. He will give you the opportunity, and He is your message. So make Jesus the subject. Keep Jesus the subject. Don't let religion become the subject, because Jesus made this awesome promise. He said, “When I am lifted up ... I will draw all men to Myself” (John 12:32).

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Copyright © Ron Hutchcraft Ministries, Inc., PO Box 400, Harrison, AR 72602. Used by permission. Written by Ron Hutchcraft. "Practical Answers to Real Life Issues"

*

Swedish chemist Alfred Bernhard Nobel was once largely known as a maker and inventor of explosives. In 1866 Nobel invented dynamite, which earned him both fame and the majority of his wealth. At one point in his life he held more than 350 patents, operated labs in 20 countries, and had more than 90 factories manufacturing explosives and ammunition. Yet today he is most often remembered as the name behind the Nobel Prize, the most highly regarded of international awards for efforts in peace, chemistry, physics, literature, and economics.

In 1888 a bizarre incident occurred, which seemed to have afforded Alfred Nobel an unlikely opportunity for reflection. Many believe it was this event that ultimately led to his establishment of the Nobel Prize and subsequent change in his reputation. When Alfred's brother Ludvig died while staying in Cannes, France, the French newspapers mistakenly confused the two brothers, reporting the death of the inventor of explosives. One paper's headline read: “Le marchand de la mort est mort.” — The merchant of death is dead.

I can't imagine reading the headlines of my life written at the hands of my harshest critic, but I do remember laboring over an assignment in middle school in which I was required to write my own obituary. Some of the class was given the task of writing it as if they died well in their eighties; others had to write as if they died that year. The assignment was meant to incite reflection — and at least in most of us it did, particularly those of us who were designated early deaths. Like Alfred Nobel my premature obituary suggested headlines I didn't want to live with — and I was the one writing them.

In a very real sense, I am still the writer of my own obituary. But I am not thinking about the words and headlines in the way I was thinking about them in middle school. As I struggled to find the words, it seemed I had so little to work with — no graduations, no accomplishments worth mentioning, no overarching purpose for my life. I was imagining all the things I hadn't done and feeling insignificant about the things I had. At that point in time, it seemed a few more years were necessary to make a meaningful headline.

Today I realize a life well lived is not about time. The writers of Scripture seem less concerned with the reputation we are leaving behind as they are with the reputation we are going to. “Be careful not to do your 'acts of righteousness' before men, to be seen by them. If you do, you will have no reward from your Father in heaven” (Matthew 6:1). There is the sense that our hearts hold the words of an obituary that no one here will see. “Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also” (Matthew 6:19-21).

The headlines we write on earth are printed on pages that will eventually fade and crumble. But there is one who reads the words imprinted across our hearts. As he stood with his tempter high on a mountain taking in the kingdoms of the world and all of the splendor that was being offered to him, Jesus considered the reputation of God and not his own. As he hung on the Cross, scorning its shame, he took death instead of glory; he bore the disgrace of man instead of the splendor of God. His obituary was insignificant to all but a few. And then he rose from the grave, forever rewriting the headlines of those who would believe.

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Copyright © 2005 Ravi Zacharias International Ministries (RZIM). Reprinted with permission. "A Slice of Infinity" is a radio ministry of Ravi Zacharias International Ministries.

[see also HolwickID #1719 and 23722]

Sermon in Church Covenant series, #5 Titus 2:7-8

WATCH HOW YOU WALK

==================

I. It matters where you walk.

II. Walking Circumspectly.

A. Being careful how you live.

B. Even if you are not "circumspecting," God is.

III. Just in Dealings.

A. Your business should be Christian.

B. Honest work for honest pay.

C. High moral standards.

D. Be more than just - be compassionate.

IV. Faithful in Engagements.

A. Your word should be your bond.

B. Keep your commitments.

V. Exemplary in conduct.

A. Not just acceptable or ordinary, but exemplary.

B. Good reputation is worth something.

Major League umpire Ted Barrett, who is working the National League Division Series between the Los Angeles Dodgers and the New York Mets, doesn’t find too many players or managers willing to mess with him when they disagree with a call.

For one thing, Barrett is physically imposing. At 6-foot-4, 250 pounds, he’s bigger than most guys on the field.

For another, Barrett is a former amateur boxer. Add that to his size, and you get an umpire from whom players would just as soon steer clear.

“He’s a golden glove boxer, so don’t get in his face,” St. Louis Cardinals first base coach Dave McKay said of Barrett.

But despite the apparent barriers, Barrett is approachable. In a poll Sports Illustrated conducted this year of 470 Major League players, Barrett was tied for third as the best umpire in the game. Maybe that’s because of the way he goes about his job.

“You don’t want to be perceived as weak,” Barrett said. “The players see me, and I try to laugh and smile on the field a lot, and I enjoy my job. But I don’t want to be perceived as ‘Here’s somebody we can just run over.’”

Or, what Barrett hopes even more, is that the characteristics of Christ are shining forth through his life, attracting others and pointing them to his God. As he matures as a Christian, Barrett often finds himself acting in ways that run counter to the umpiring culture.

“Even though I was a Christian in the minor leagues, I wasn’t trying to be Christ-like. I was trying to be umpire-like,” Barrett said. “I realized I needed to start living this too, not just in my life, but in my work. It bends everything that’s been in the tradition of umpiring for 100 years.”

Barrett pointed to forgiveness, as an example. Most umpires try to keep a healthy distance between themselves and the players, even when a player or coach tries to apologize for his behavior.

“Take your apology and stick it” is a common response from an umpire.

But Barrett remembers an encounter he had with Doug Mansolino, now the third base coach for the Houston Astros. At the time, Mansolino was the bench coach for the Detroit Tigers, and Barrett had ejected him from a game for his behavior.

The next day, Barrett was working third base, where Lance Parrish was the third base coach.

“Doug wanted me to tell you he’s sorry,” Parrish told Barrett.

Barrett said that’s a tactic players and coaches often employ -– apologizing by proxy. He’s not crazy about the practice, and he nearly told Parrish what he thought about it.

“Right away I was about to come back and say, ‘Tell Doug to come and tell me himself. Tell him to stick it,’” Barrett said. “But in my mind, I think God was just laying it on me, saying, ‘I’ve forgiven you of so much. You need to forgive.’”

So Barrett told Parrish to relay a message to Mansolino: “Tell him I forgive him.”

“That was about seven years ago,” Barrett said. “And now, every time I see Doug, he comes over and says hi and brightens up. And he’s a hard, crusty guy. So, I think that probably ministered to him a lot. It completely goes against the grain of how we’re supposed to behave.”

Barrett said his Christian beliefs manifest themselves in his job in other ways. On the field, he tries to handle situations in a godly manner, especially when conflict comes. And conflict will come.

“It’s hard not to lash back,” Barrett said. “The biggest thing I try to do is listen. I try to be slow to anger. Soft-spoken answers sometimes turn back wrath.”

He also tries to assess the situation and discern where the manager or player is coming from and what the motive is. If they have a legitimate complaint, Barrett tries to give them room to air their grievance.

“But if I think a guy’s trying to manipulate me or mess with me for some reason, I let them know I’m not going to put up with that,” Barrett said. “I will get angry at times, if I think they’re trying to do something that’s not fair to me or the other team. I try not to overreact.”

Mike Port, MLB’s vice president of umpiring, said the qualities of tolerance, dignity, knowledge, ability and diplomatic control are necessary to excel in the job.

“While Major League Baseball is fortunate to have a great number of umpires who fit that profile, certainly Ted Barrett is right up there in those respects,” Port said. “He is now a 10-year veteran, and yet seems to keep right on improving, which is no surprise given the pride he takes in his work.

“To say he is respected by his peers is an understatement, as many look to him as an example and rely on his stability.”

Umpiring, however, is a thankless job. Everybody -– players, managers, fans -– expects perfection. But get every call right, and few will notice. Miss a call -– especially a game-changing call -– and get death threats.

“Honestly, if you’re not noticed,” is what Philadelphia Phillies pitcher Aaron Fultz says makes a good umpire. “If there’s no controversy, that’s the big thing.”

McKay offered a similar assessment.

“I think a good umpire is someone who blends in,” McKay said. “He doesn’t stand out.”

The job isn’t without its lighter moments. Barrett remembers one time when Terry Collins was managing the Angels and came out to argue a call.

“Ted, I’ve gotta get run. I’ve gotta get run,” Collins told Barrett. “Will you run me?”

“Yeah, OK,” Barrett replied.

“I’m gonna throw my hat, and then you can run me,” Collins said.

Then Collins started yelling and making a scene. “I’ve got this player over here, and he quit on me,” Collins griped. “My third base coach thinks he’s the manager. These fans are all over me.”

All the while Collins is waving his arms and raising a ruckus. Barrett started to chuckle.

“Don’t you laugh,” Collins said in Barrett’s face. “Don’t you laugh. If you laugh, they’ll know what I’m doing.”

Such encounters happen more than most people might think, Barrett said.

Another time, Jim Tracy was managing the Los Angeles Dodgers, and Barrett had made two calls on close plays at home plate that had gone against the Dodgers. Tracy came out to argue.

“I know you got both of those right,” Tracy yelled. “I had a good look from the dugout. I know you got them right, but I’ve gotta go.”

So Tracy started kicking dirt on the plate and after a brief tirade, which got him ejected, replied calmly to Barrett, “All right, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Whatever the situation, Barrett said his goal is to communicate the Gospel to his colleagues by the way he conducts himself.

“If I can have an attitude that’s reflective of Christ and trying to be obedient to Him, I think that speaks volumes to the people I work with,” Barrett said. “The reputation I strive for is, ‘He’s a good guy, but we don’t want to mess with him.’ That would be the ultimate compliment a player could give me.”

Will Houghton was a preacher who became the president of Moody Bible Institute during the 1940s. His faithfulness played a large role in the conversion of an agnostic who was contemplating suicide. The skeptic was desperate, but he decided that if he could find a minister who lived his faith he would listen to him.

So he hired a private detective to watch Houghton. When the investigator's report came back, it revealed that this preacher's life was above reproach; he was for real. The agnostic went to Houghton's church, accepted Christ, and later sent his daughter to Moody Bible Institute.

What if a private detective was hired to watch you? Would the way you live help or hurt God's reputation?

==================

In 1924, Will Houghton became the pastor of the Atlanta Baptist Tabernacle. Before long, the 4000-seat auditorium was filled, people were being saved and the work was prospering.

During his first months in the city, an unbelieving hospital official hired a private detective to “shadow” the pastor to see if he really lived what he preached! At the end of the “investigation,” the detective reported, “He lives it — there’s no flaw there!” As a result, the official was converted and spent his life seeking to win others to Christ.

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Adapted from http://www2.salinabible.org/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=904:will-houghton-from-performer-to-preacher&catid=401&Itemid=101

The Royal College of Obstetricians and Gynaecologists in England is concerned that a growing number of doctors there are refusing to perform abortions. The crisis they fear is actually a crisis of recovered moral consciousness.

The Independent newspaper [London] has published an amazing report on this and one paragraph is too important to miss. Look closely at these words:

Distaste at performing terminations combined with ethical and

religious convictions has led to a big increase in “conscientious

objectors” who request exemption from the task, the RCOG says. A

key factor is what specialists call “the dinner party test”.

Gynaecologists who specialise in fertility treatment creating

babies for childless couples are almost universally revered - but

no one boasts of being an abortionist.

This is a truly remarkable paragraph. The moral conscience rears its head in unexpected ways. “The dinner party test” is an amazing example of a common grace display of suppressed moral knowledge.

Philosopher Leon Kass, former chairman of the President’s Council on Bioethics, has long argued that humanity demonstrates a basic level of moral knowledge through a moral instinct he calls the “Yuck Factor.” As he explains, humans almost instinctively know that some actions are morally wrong, even if they have no elaborated moral argument to back up their judgment.

This new test -- “The Dinner Party Test” -- is very similar, but even more fascinating. Put bluntly, doctors who help people to have babies “are almost universally revered,” while “no one boasts of being an abortionist.”

The fundamental ugliness and tragic sinfulness of abortion makes for an awkward introduction at a dinner party. “I abort babies” is almost surely to lead to awkwardness and strained expressions from fellow guests -- even if these people claim to be “pro-choice.”

That response of moral repugnance reveals something of vital importance. “The Dinner Party Test” is a reminder that moral knowledge may be denied and repressed for some time, but it reappears in unexpected ways. The real “crisis” is a crisis of conscience reasserting itself.

The Culture of Death is a most awkward and embarrassing guest at a dinner party. “The Dinner Party Test” gets right to the heart of the matter.

World War II produced many heroes. One such man was Butch O’Hare. He was a fighter pilot assigned to an aircraft carrier in the South Pacific.

One day his entire squadron was sent on a mission. After he was airborne, he looked at his fuel gauge and realized that someone had forgotten to top off his fuel tank. He would not have enough fuel to complete his mission and get back to his ship. His flight leader told him to return to the carrier.

Reluctantly he dropped out of formation and headed back toward the fleet. As he was returning to the mother ship, he saw something that turned his blood cold. A squadron of Japanese Zeroes were speeding their way toward the American fleet. The American fighters were gone on a sortie and the fleet was all but defenseless. He couldn’t reach his squadron and bring them back in time to save the fleet. Nor, could he warn the fleet of the approaching danger.

There was only one thing to do. He must somehow divert them from the fleet. Laying aside all thoughts of personal safety, he dove into the formation of Japanese planes. Wing-mounted 50 caliber’s blazed as he charged in, attacking one surprised enemy plane and then another. Butch flew in and out of the now broken formation and fired at as many planes as possible until finally all his ammunition was spent.

Undaunted, he continued the assault. He dove at the Zeroes, trying to at least clip off a wing or tail, in hopes of damaging as many enemy planes as possible and rendering them unfit to fly. He was desperate to do anything he could to keep them from reaching the American ships. Finally, the exasperated Japanese squadron took off in another direction. Deeply relieved, Butch O’Hare and his tattered fighter limped back to the carrier.

Upon arrival he reported in and related the event surrounding his return. The film from the camera mounted on his plane told the tale. It showed the extent of Butch’s daring attempt to protect his fleet. He was recognized as a hero and given one of the nation’s highest military honors. And today, O’Hare Airport in Chicago is named in tribute to the courage of this man.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

... and now behind that story ...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There was a man in Chicago called Easy Eddie. At that time, Al Capone virtually owned the city. Capone wasn’t famous for anything heroic.

His exploits were anything but praise worthy. He was, however, notorious for enmeshing the city of Chicago in everything from bootlegged booze and prostitution to murder.

Easy Eddie was Capone’s lawyer and for a good reason. He was very good! In fact, his skill at legal maneuvering kept Big Al out of jail for a long time. To show his appreciation, Capone paid him very well. Not only was the money big, Eddie got special dividends. For instance, he and his family occupied a fenced in mansion with live-in help and all of the conveniences of the day. The estate was so large that it filled an entire Chicago City block. Yes, Eddie lived the high life of the Chicago mob and gave little consideration to the atrocity that went on around him.

Eddy did have one soft spot, however. He had a son that he loved dearly. Eddy saw to it that his young son had the best of everything; clothes, cars, and a good education. Nothing was withheld. Price was no object. And, despite his involvement with organized crime, Eddie even tried to teach him right from wrong. Yes, Eddie tried to teach his son to rise above his own sordid life. He wanted him to be a better man than he was.

Yet, with all his wealth and influence, there were two things that Eddie couldn’t give his son. Two things that Eddie sacrificed to the Capone mob that he could not pass on to his beloved son . . . a good name and a good example. One day, Easy Eddie reached a difficult decision. Offering his son a good name was far more important than all the riches he could lavish on him.

He had to rectify all the wrong that he had done. He would go to the authorities and tell the truth about Scar-face Al Capone. He would try to clean up his tarnished name and offer his son some semblance of integrity.

To do this he must testify against the Mob, and he knew that the cost would be great. But more than anything, he wanted to be an example to his son. He wanted to do to make restoration and hopefully have a good name to leave his son. So, he testified.

Within the year, Easy Eddie’s life ended in a blaze of gunfire on a lonely Chicago Street. He had given his son the greatest gift he had to offer at the greatest price he would ever pay.

What do these two stories have to do with each other?

Butch O’Hare was Easy Eddie’s son.

And that, as they say, is the rest of the story.

Modern corporations say they take moral character seriously. Here is a statement by a corporate management firm:

“Accenture takes very seriously its business ethics, corporate

governance and transparency of operations. Our board of

directors authorized the creation of our Ethics and Compliance

program. Led by our general counsel, the program is designed to:

• Foster the highest ethical standards amongst Accenture

personnel.

• Be effective in preventing, detecting and appropriately

reporting and addressing any allegation of misconduct and

violations of law by Accenture personnel.”

I doubt any of you have ever used Accenture. But all of you know its chief spokesman - Tiger Woods. They used to pay him $20 million dollars a year. Not any more. They fired him because he violated his contract’s morals clause. Most of his other sponsors did the same thing.

It is hard to feel too sorry for a man who went from making billions to only making millions. But all of us are judged by the moral choices we make in life. Our choices don’t just reflect on us. They also reflect on the organizations we belong to.

The church does it a little differently. When I was hired by Ledgewood Baptist, I remember signing a one-page statement that I would be the pastor. The term of service was open-ended. There was no morals clause. There didn’t need to be one. It’s found in the Bible, in 1 Timothy 3.

Respected leadership is a key to reaching the world. Paul knew it, lived it, and expected it in others. Do we expect what God expects?

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Adapted from the online blog "Tiger Woods and the Morals Clause," by Alan Caruba, December 14, 2009.

Do you like zoos? I do. There is always such a variety of animals. Some zoos have a larger variety than others. Back in 1996 a zoo in Copenhagen, Denmark, put a human couple on display. A man and woman were put in a see-through cage in the primate display next to the baboons and the monkeys. A standard zoo label gave details about their habitat, diet, and threats to their existence.

It wasn’t too bad - they had living room furniture, a computer, a television, and stereo. Unlike their neighbors, who aren’t allowed out, the two humans were allowed to occasionally leave their fishbowl existence.

How well would you do in a zoo? If you are a Christian, you sort of are already. Everybody is watching you, and they should. What are you showing them?

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Adapted from Parade magazine, December 29, 1996.

And old tombstone that is broken and laying on the ground in Scotch Plains Baptist Cemetery (New Jersey) reads:

“In memory of Sarah, wife of William McPhely,

who died July the 24th 1792.

Near the end of a long & very painful indisposition

she gave reasonable hope she was born again*;

and through the riches of sovereign Grace died

apparently triumphing in the prospect of Glory & immortality”

* tombstone spells it "agan"

This is a roundabout way of saying, "We hope she made it, but we're not really sure."

Nowadays people don't say much on tombstones and even if they do, they are not nearly this honest. Is your salvation evident enough that no one would dream of chiseling "apparently" in your epitaph?

[an image of the gravestone can be found at ]

It’s a practice pastor Randy Crowe of Hull Baptist Church doesn’t like, but it often gives him comfort.

Whenever asked to give the eulogy at a funeral, Crowe asks to see the Bible belonging to the deceased. Pages with scribbles, highlights and dog-eared pages often tell him about that individual’s relationship with Christ. It’s a strong sign that person understood and lived to carry out God’s grace.

So it was that Crowe carried the burgundy Thompson Chain Reference Bible belonging to slain senior police officer Buddy Christian to a podium in Athens, Georgia, as nearly 2,500 looked on March 27.

Christian, a deacon, Sunday School teacher and AWANA leader at Hull Baptist Church, was shot twice the previous Tuesday in responding as backup to a call. The suspect, 33-year-old Jamie Hood, eluded a manhunt for several days before giving himself up to authorities on live television that Friday night. Another officer shot by Hood is expected to recover.

“I could see in Buddy’s Bible where he had underlined verses and marked pages,” said Crowe, who has led Hull Baptist Church 18 years. “There were study clippings and notes where he prepared his Sunday School lessons.

“If a person didn’t know Buddy Christian, they could open his Bible and know he was dedicated. It was important to him.”

Written on the inside cover is a message from Christian’s wife Melissa.

To my husband

I love you so much.

Merry Christmas, 1997

Buddy Christian began attending Hull Baptist Church as a teen and grew into a youth leader. A card from 1990 committing to pray for his youth group remained in his Bible. “He was very active,” Crowe said, “and the kind of young man with leadership you could see, even at that age. Others looked up to him.”

Crowe said Christian had been with the Athens Police Department for about eight years and had kept Bibles in his police cruiser and locker at work. In an occupation rife with danger, a favorite passage was Ephesians 6:10-20, where believers are told to put on the full armor of God.

“He wasn’t afraid to share his faith,” Crowe said. “He would speak to anyone about it. He didn’t ever want to give up on people. In his view the people he arrested just needed someone to care [about them].”

In addition to other duties at Hull Baptist Church, Christian operated the sound system and church sign. The Wednesday before he died, he came by on an off day to install a wireless modem to the front sign.

“He did that sort of thing a lot,” church secretary Lorra McGough said. “He was a farrier and would shoe horses for people. His wife has a passion for horses and so he’d do that for her and friends. He was a very well-rounded person.”

A note in Christian’s Bible contains a definition of courage: Standing up for what we know is right.

“His role was to help people. It’s why he became an officer,” Crowe, pastor to six officers at Hull Baptist, said. “Buddy felt God put him in a position to help where others couldn’t.”

A brief break from police work to another county government department only solidified Christian’s calling. Back on the force, he took a part-time job in security at Georgia Square Mall to better provide for Melissa and their children, Callie, 5, and Wyatt, 2. While on duty he’d gravitate to a children’s store and read to the kids, explaining what officers did and that the children didn’t need to be afraid.

“He’d teach the same thing to the kids at church,” Crowe said.

Flipping through Christian’s Bible, the pastor noted one passage, Colossians 1:5: “For the hope which is laid up for you in heaven, whereof ye heard before in the word of the truth of the gospel.”

It was the only passage Crowe noticed underlined in red. One word is scribbled in the margin: Grace.

Proverbs 22:1 says, “A good name is more desirable than great riches; to be esteemed is better than silver or gold.”

Modern business executives have taken this to heart. Many of them hire firms like Reputation.com to clean up their online reputation. Negative articles are deleted. Phony reviewers are paid to sing the praises of the client at online review sites. Photos of them with a lampshade on their head at the company Christmas party get the name removed. And it only costs between $5,000 and $10,000 a month! You can never be too careful....

________

Adapted from “Erasing the Digital Past,” Nick Bilton, New York Times, April 1, 2011,

I had the privilege of co-officiating the funeral of a dear friend and former co-laborer in local church ministry last month. Dying at the age of 88, Ed Carroll served as a deacon at Muldraugh Baptist Church in Kentucky for over a half-century, and as the chairman of deacons most of those years.

As a 25-year-old serving my first stint as a pastor, Ed encouraged me, counseled me and served alongside me. We prayed together, visited together, worshipped together and tended the flock of God together. Though he was nearly 50 years my senior, he became one of those friends and co-laborers, without whom it was impossible to conceptualize ministry.

Pondering Ed’s life prompted me to reflect more broadly on the office of deacon and the caricatures often associated with it. We have all heard nightmarish stories of biblically unqualified deacons who use their position to lord over the church, even the pastor.

Thankfully, this has not been my experience. In the main, I have been privileged to serve with good, godly men. Ed was foremost among them. These men have been a blessing to me and to the churches we have served. Biblically speaking, such men are worthy of honor for two reasons, and honor them we should.

Men of character

The diaconate, as outlined in 1 Timothy 3, stipulates the men who would serve must have sterling character, just like the office of the elder. In fact, the qualifications of the deacon are almost identical to the elder, sans the requirement for the elder to be “able to teach.” Consider the apostle Paul’s qualifications for the deacons, their wives and families in 1 Timothy 3:9-13:

“Deacons likewise must be men of dignity, not double-tongued, or addicted to much wine or fond of sordid gain, but holding to the mystery of the faith with a clear conscience. These men must also first be tested; then let them serve as deacons if they are beyond reproach. Women must likewise be dignified, not malicious gossips, but temperate, faithful in all things. Deacons must be husbands of only one wife, and good managers of their children and their own households. For those who have served well as deacons obtain for themselves a high standing and great confidence in the faith that is in Christ Jesus.”

Men who measure up are to be enlisted and equipped for the diaconate. As they are, they are to be held up as an example to the flock and commended for their faithfulness to the body of Christ.

Men of service

The office of the deacon is not an honorary one. Rather, deacons are set apart to serve. In fact, when we see deacons first introduced in Acts 6, this was precisely their function. The deacons served widows so that the apostles would be free for prayer and the ministry of the word.

As he noted in 1 Timothy 3, Paul sets forth service as the deacons’ first priority: “These men must also first be tested; then let them serve as deacons if they are beyond reproach.... For those who have served well as deacons obtain for themselves a high standing and great confidence in the faith that is in Christ Jesus.”

The office of the deacon is not a position of leadership, but deacons often find themselves leading. Their leadership is a derived authority, earning such through godly character and sacrificial service. Such leadership is fitting and right.

The French statesman Charles de Gaulle once quipped that “graveyards are full of indispensable men.” In a sense, de Gaulle was right. No man is indispensable. But some men are irreplaceable. In the life of his church, Ed Carroll was such a man.

I’m going to miss Ed not only for who he was and what he did, but for what he represented -- a generation of servants, deeply devoted to their local church.

Brother pastors, let us hold high the office of deacon and make sure to honor those who serve well. As we do, may the Lord be pleased to call out a new generation of such laymen, qualified and equipped to serve their church.

Pastors do not hold the place of community esteem they once did. According to Barna’s State of Pastors report (2017), only about one in five Americans thinks of a pastor as very influential in their community, and about one in four doesn’t think they’re very influential or influential at all. The truth is, influential or not, many Americans don’t want to hear what pastors have to say. In 2016, Barna found that only 21 percent of Americans consider pastors to be “very credible” on the “important issues of our day.” Even among those Barna defined as evangelicals, the number only rises to slightly over half. Think about it: Nearly half of American evangelicals don’t see their pastors as being an authoritative voice for navigating current affairs.

In a new study Barna and I did in 2020 for my book The Resilient Pastor, we learned that the picture might be getting worse. Only 23 percent of Americans said they “definitely” see a pastor as a “trustworthy source of wisdom.” Even among Christians, that number only rises to a mere 31 percent. Less than a third of Christians said they “definitely” consider a pastor a “trustworthy source of wisdom.” As you might expect, a mere 4 percent of non-Christians think of pastors in this way. That’s a pretty bleak picture.

Living in a digital age has added further complications. In one sense, the internet has been a great equalizer, disrupting traditional hierarchies of power and granting anyone the access and the potential to amass a following. Anyone can post; anyone can search; anyone can learn. The access to information has had a democratizing effect, so much so that authoritarian regimes around the world implement heavy-handed censorships and firewalls.

But access to information is a double-edged sword. It does not simply tear down or destabilize existing structures of authority. It creates new ways of establishing authority and gives rise to new authority figures, like Instagram influencers, bloggers, videos, and memes floating around Facebook. And with new “leaders” come new “tribes.” This can lead to the dangerous assumption that all views are equally valid. Each person becomes their own arbiter of religious truth, each doing what is right in their own eyes — or in the eyes of the podcaster they listened to this morning.

It would be tempting to focus on how pastors can regain credibility. There is, of course, a need for that. Taking our vocation seriously means recognizing the weight of our words, the sacred nature of our duties, and the importance of a life of integrity. The declining credibility of pastors is bad news for the church. If we are going to invite anyone to follow us as we follow Christ, we have to work to regain the trust of reluctant followers. It will mean doing the right thing for the right reasons for a really long time.

All of that is true. But it’s important that we don’t rush to “fix” this. We have the opportunity to recognize the invitation in the midst of this — a phrase my spiritual director has used with me multiple times when I’m faced with a situation I don’t like, especially a situation beyond my control. Here in the aftermath of the storm, we hear the whisper of the Spirit’s invitation — an invitation, I suggest, shaped by three words: responsibility, accountability, and humility.

Responsibility. I am less interested in finding ways to regain our credibility than I am in our willingness to take responsibility for why we’ve lost it. We must face the reality that we have contributed to the crisis of credibility. Yes, there are cultural headwinds that have changed the social standing or cultural power of a pastor. But we have made a mess of things too. From small country churches to uber-megachurches, many pastors have been found to be bullies and hypocrites, alcohol abusers, and womanizers. The crisis of credibility is a symptom. The misuse of authority is the root cause.

The Old Testament reflects on the use of power in the way it tells the story of Israel’s first king. Saul’s story reveals three classic ways of mishandling authority: using it for our own benefit, overstepping the bounds of our authority, and exercising it rashly.

The prophet Samuel warned that a king takes (1 Sam. 8:11–17). How have we taken from our people? How have we taken their time, their hopes, their trust, and used it for our own ends? Maybe we have treated good-hearted people who serve our churches as though they are cogs in the machinery of our ambition. We are all too willing to take their time but slow to give ours.

As king, Saul infamously decided to act like a priest and offer sacrifices, overstepping the bounds of his authority (1 Sam. 13:9-10). In an attempt to be strong leaders, we can step into roles for which we have neither the training nor the calling to perform. For example, if we speak dismissively of mental health, saying from the pulpit that a person who is anxious simply needs to pray more, we erode our own credibility by overreaching with our authority.

Saul also used power rashly. After winning a battle, Saul ordered that no one eat anything, vowing to kill anyone who did (1 Sam 14:24). His own son unwittingly put his foolish vow to the test. How often do pastors cash in the capital of a congregation’s trust by calling them into a culture war? We announce with certainty whose “side” God is on, and in doing so we smear God’s name and diminish our credibility.

Misusing authority in this way may not be a problem for every pastor. But we can all take a hard look at ourselves and ask the Lord what measure of responsibility we must take for the loss of credibility among pastors.

Accountability. The decline in credibility means that very little will be handed to us. People are going to fact check our claims and compare our exegetical conclusions. But that can be a good thing. If we’ve done our homework, it will show. And if we’re shooting from the hip, they will likely know.

When a major social issue arises, it’s only a matter of time before someone posts on social media what pastors should say about it that Sunday. If your pastor doesn’t speak out about _____, then it’s time to find a new church, we are told. The media and the mob set the criteria for what a pastor should or should not say. Either way, the pastor is no longer the locus of authority or credibility.

I’m not a fan of this development. I don’t like pastors responding to pressure from a trending topic on Twitter. But there is also an opportunity here to accept accountability in this new age of visibility. The invitation in declining pastoral credibility may mean a move toward greater transparency. For example, how can we show the church the way their giving is being spent? How can our time and energy be held in check? If taking responsibility is about confession, embracing accountability is about changing our ways.

There’s one more word...

Humility. That’s the final word to shape our response. Above all, the crisis in credibility should lead us to our knees. We should humble ourselves and return to the source of our authority.

During the Medieval centuries, a pastor — the priest — was a person who had been anointed with seemingly special powers. They could heal the sick through prayer and anointing with oil, hear from God and interpret the Scriptures, and turn bread and wine into the body and blood of Christ.

But as reformations led to rationalism, the pastor in the post-Enlightenment West found authority in his learning. Andrew Root in his book The Pastor in a Secular Age maps the shift in perceptions of pastors in America, noting that “the pastor no longer had magical powers, but he could read; he was no longer a superhero but now was just a learned man.” Jonathan Edwards, for example, devoted himself to study for 13 hours a day! This began a long tradition of education — the right seminaries and the right degrees — as the basis for credibility.

But Root notes another shift that began in the late 20th century: The authority of pastors began to come from the institutions they created. “Just as a CEO has the power of her office due to the societal or economic strength of the company, so too the pastor’s power depends on the size and influence of the congregation.” With long sermons potentially seen as a detriment and seminary education as a potential liability by some, pastors began to seek other ways of establishing their presence in a community. The answer was in building strong and influential churches.

But none of those things is the actual source of our authority. The source of our authority, ultimately, comes not from our popularity or influence (though without influence, one could hardly be a leader), not from our education (though training and preparation is a good thing), and not from the institutions we lead (though creating institutions is part of having presence and place). The source of our authority is Jesus, and it comes from being in his presence.

But that is not all. By being with Jesus, we learn from him what power is for. We rethink how our authority is used.

Jesus, “knowing that the Father had given all things into his hands, and that he had come from God and was going back to God” (John 13:3, ESV), got up, removed his robe, took up a towel and a basin, and began to wash the feet of his disciples.

Jesus knew where he had come from and where he was going. Jesus had been with the Father and was going back to the Father. Jesus knew that the mission and the ministry were what the Father had entrusted to him. And so he took the form of a servant and washed their feet. When you know the source of your authority, you understand the purpose for it.

Pastors, if our authority really did come from our education or the size of our institutions or the scope of our influence, then we could boast in it. We did this. We earned this. We worked for this.

But if we recognize it as a gift, if we understand that the only authority we have is that which comes from the anointing of the Spirit of the Lord, then that same Spirit works to form Christ in us.

The source of authority determines its shape. Our authority comes from Jesus, and it is to be used as Jesus used his power: to empty ourselves in service and self-giving love. As Paul would later write — paraphrased in The Message — our “strength is for service, not status” (Rom. 15:1). To recapture this perspective is to begin to return to credibility before Christ and his church.

Credibility is the result of the good and right stewardship of power — stewardship that understands the purpose of your power and the limits of your authority and acts accordingly with humility.

Responsibility. Accountability. Humility. I cannot promise that it will help us regain credibility. But it will, by God’s grace, make us more like Christ.

________

Glenn Packiam is associate senior pastor at New Life Church in Colorado Springs. He also serves as a senior fellow at Barna Group and an adjunct professor at Denver Seminary.

Thirteen Muslim men sat in a circle, machetes at their side. Three of them were religious leaders, four of them village heads.

For years, Islam had been a part of their village, a part of their lives. Yet on this day in this Southeast Asian country, they sat quietly and listened as two Christian men patiently shared the gospel of Jesus Christ.

The two Christians had befriended the Muslims months earlier, meeting on a regular basis. But for some reason, this day seemed different.

The two Christian storytellers decided not to mince words. The pathway to heaven, they said, does not go through Muhammed or Allah. Jesus Christ, they emphasized, is the only way.

The 13 men remained quiet, nodding their heads. Finally, one of them spoke up.

"We know what you have said is truth," he said.

Mark, the leader of the Christian team and a student at Southern Baptist Theological Seminary, was a bit shocked. "Are these men ready to accept the gospel?" he thought to himself. "Do they truly understand the story of Christ?" Wanting to make certain the men had been listening, Mark got straight to the point.

"I went on to explain that there is no one else," he said. "Muhammed is not a way to heaven. Jesus is the only way. If you have not accepted him as your Lord and Savior, you will spend an eternity in hell. I was very blunt -- exactly what you're not supposed to do.

"They said, 'We understand. We know what you have shared with us is absolute truth.' That's the first time I had heard the word 'absolute truth' used."

The men understood the gospel presentation, but they did not go any further. Although the seeds had been planted that day, there were no decisions for Christ. Their village is a communal system, meaning that they don't make individual decisions. Before the men could become Christians, their entire village had to do the same.

So, when Mark left the village that day, the men were going back to their friends and families, telling them the story of Christ.

Such stories may seem unique, but they aren't. Mark -- whose real name and the country in which he serves are not used in this story for security reasons -- recently completed a stint in Southeast Asia as part of the International Mission Board's Two Plus Two program. The program allows students to spend the final two years of their education on the mission field.

For Mark, the time served as a confirmation that he and his family are called to fulltime missions overseas. Soon, they will return to that same Southeast Asian country. Some of the country is Catholic, but much of it is Muslim. It will be their first visit to the country since the tragic events of Sept. 11.

Is Mark scared? No.

"It could be dangerous, but if you have relationships with people, your people are going to take care of you," he said. "The most unsafe place for us to be is where God hasn't called us. The safest place we could be is where he has called us. As a family we feel very certain God has called us back there to the people."

By his estimate, more than 99 percent of the people he encounters are lost. However, the Spirit is moving, and the gospel is spreading.

Mark has dozens of stories attesting to the work of God.

There was the time when he was getting his hair cut, and the barber -- with whom Mark had built a relationship -- started talking about an interesting rock he had found. The man invited Mark to his house, supposedly to show him the rock.

"We get to his house, he closes the door and he calls his two sons and his wife and says, 'Share the gospel with my family.' He's from the people group that will cut your throat [for converting to Christianity]. His people group are part of the Jihad warriors and are hard to reach."

The day Mark left the country, the barber showed up at the airport, begging Mark to stay. Mark did not want to leave, but he had to. The relationship with the barber was passed on to another IMB missionary.

"When I got ready to leave, he [the barber] grabbed me and kissed me on both cheeks, which is a Muslim departure -- only to another Muslim and only to close family," Mark said. "But that's how he told me bye."Mark's first few months in the country were just as amazing. Soon after arriving in Southeast Asia, he began working among a group of 25,000 refugees who had been chased off their land and were living in unsanitary conditions. The day Mark entered the refugee camp, two adults and five children had died the night before from drinking dirty water.

Thankfully, Mark had brought a water purification system. He set it up and trained a local refugee how to use it. Twelve days later, the police and local military leaders -- overcome with joy -- delivered some good news.

"Do you understand what you have done?" they asked Mark. "There were no deaths last night -- the first time ever -- and it's because you have been able to give them clear water."

But Mark refused to accept credit, and instead told the people that God had saved them from an unsanitary situation. Clean water, they soon learned, cannot compare to the living water found in Christ.

Mark said Southern Baptists -- known in the country as simply "Baptists" -- are held in high regard. In one instance, his Baptist background kept him out of harm's way. One day he and a translator were walking along when a native of the country -- who was a foot and a half taller than Mark -- threatened them with a machete. The man was angry, and he was letting them know it.

"Finally, he blurted out, 'If you were a Baptist, it would be different,'" Mark recalled. "The translator said, 'What do you mean?' He said, 'The Baptists have come and they have been here since the beginning, but there's not a single agency that came here in the beginning that is still here. The Baptists have been here from day one, and they're still here. They're taking care of us and they're loving us.' That's when the translator said, 'He is with the Baptists.'"

The man fell to his knees, grabbed Mark's pants legs and asked for forgiveness for his threatening actions.

"I picked him up, hugged him and told him that he didn't need to ask for forgiveness, and that I understood," Mark said, adding that the man became one of his best supporters.

That man was not the only person affected by Southern Baptists' giving spirit. During Mark's stay in the country an earthquake flattened a predominantly Muslim region. The people were left with no homes, and their water wells were destroyed.

Having visited the region prior to the earthquake, Mark said he had "never felt so hated" in his life. But the earthquake opened the door for the gospel, and Mark and other Christians -- Southern Baptists as well as national Baptists -- swung into action.

The men requested money from Southern Baptist's disaster relief fund, and in two days they had it. The money provided the resources to rebuild some 660 homes and feed 3,366 families. The disaster relief project was so blessed that one-third of the money designated for rebuilding homes was returned to the IMB.

"The government fell apart because the government buildings were destroyed," Mark said. "They had no communication, but the Baptists' network was already there."

Each packet of rice had a gospel message.

"The bag of rice had the Scripture from Psalms that said, 'The mountains will fall into the sea. God will provide for his people,'" Mark said. "We passed the food out, and we also spent time with the people and began to develop relationships."

Two years ago, before Mark left America, some of his friends told him that the gospel could not be spread in such a hostile country. Mark, though, now knows differently.

*

“First, I thank my God through Jesus Christ for you all, that your faith is spoken of throughout the whole world. For God is my witness, whom I serve with my spirit in the gospel of His Son, that without ceasing I make mention of you always in my prayers, making request if, by some means, now at last I may find a way in the will of God to come to you.” (Romans 1:8-10 NKJV)

His prayer for his friends in Rome

• first — in order, in importance — 1 th 5:18

• thank — gratitude not only acknowledges the past, but prepares for the future

• my God — [emphasis on “my”] Author of all good

• through…Christ — through whom God is mine, and my thanks are offered. Christ the medium of all blessing — John 1:51

• for…all — each believer, whatever his station, experience, gifts, a subject for thanks

• faith — Christian life and fidelity to truth

• world — Roman Empire Luke 2:1); everywhere

• witness — Job 16:19 — the best, bearing testmonyy to his heart.

• serve — labors more abundant

• spirit — heart, soul, mind

• in…Son — devoting all I have and am to it

• prayers — the secret of his strength (Isaiah 40:30) and success (Ezek 27:9-10)

• request — this special prayer among others

• means — the way was through the prison and shipwreck to Rome

• prosperous [find a way] — in the end, getting to Rome. Any journey would be prosperous that brought him there.

Paul’s love to the Church at Rome — Rev. C. Simeon

I. His love to the Church at Rome. Shown by

1. His incessant prayers for them;

2. His earnest desire to visit them.

II. The particular objects of his intended visit to them:

1. The advancement of their welfare;

2. The comfort of his own soul.

Application

(1) Let us be thankful to God, who has heard and answered our supplications

(2) Let us continue to pray for His blessing on our poor endeavors

The experience of conviction — D’Aubigné

When M. Monod and I attended the University of Geneva, there was a professor of divinity who confined himself to lecturing on the immortality of the soul, the existence of God, and similar topics. As to the Trinity he did

not believe it. Instead of the Bible, he gave us quotations from

Seneca and Plato. St. Seneca and St. Plato were the two saints whose writings he held up to admiration. But the Lord sent one of His servants to Geneva; and I well remember the visit of Robert Haldane. I heard of him first as an English or Scotch gentleman who spoke much about the Bible, which seemed a very strange thing to me and the other students, to whom it was a shut book. I afterwards met Mr. Haldane at a private house, along with some other friends, and heard him read from an English Bible a chapter from Romans, about the natural corruption of man — a doctrine of which I had never heard before: in fact, I was quite astonished to hear of men being corrupt by nature. I remember saying to Mr. Haldane, “Now, I see that

doctrine in the Bible.” “Yes,” he replied; “but do you see it in your heart?” That was a simple question; but it came home to my conscience. It was the sword of the Spirit; and from that time I saw that my heart was corrupt, and knew from the Word of God that I could be saved by grace alone.

“Their faith made Rome no less the metropolis of Christianity than of the world. The Roman faith and fortitude equally spread their fame. And as the Pagan Romans overcame the world by their fortitude, so did the Christians by their faith.” — Dr. South

“The light must lighten everyone that cometh into the world, so that there is not the worst man but sometimes he seemeth good, and then he falleth into his former excess of riot again.” — Bishop Andrewes

“Methinks St. Paul reasons as solidly and acutely as Aristotle:” — Boyle

He stood six feet, nine inches tall and weighted in at 310 pounds. Rumor had it that he'd killed a man with his bare hands - just squeezed the life out of him. It was the kind of reputation that gained respect in the rough city where we grew up. At fifteen, Big Willy was already a legend.

Willy and I had played together since we both wore diapers, although we were the unlikeliest of pairs. He was a massive black giant and I was a pudgy little redhead. We both worked at the factory in town - I in the office, Willy on the dock. Even the hardened men who worked alongside Willy feared him.

He saw me home safely from work and I kept his secret that each night, instead of cruising the city streets, beating people up, he went home and lovingly lifted his elderly grandmother out of the chair she was confined to and placed her in bed. He would read to her until she fell asleep, and in the morning, he would comb her thin, gray hair, dress her in the beautiful nightgowns he bought with the money he made at the can company, and place her back in the chair.

Willy had lost both his parents to drugs, and it was just the two of them now. He took care of her, and she gave him a reason to stay clean. Of course, there wasn't an ounce of truth to the rumors, but Willy never said otherwise. He just let everyone believe what they believed, and although everyone wrote him off as just another street hood, no one hassled him either.

One day, in Western Civilization class, our teacher read aloud an excerpt from Machiavelli's "The Prince": "Since love and fear cannot exist together, if we must choose between them, it is far safer to be feared than loved." I looked at Willy and winked. "That's you," I mouthed. He just smiled.

The next day, I lingered a few minutes longer than usual at school and Willy went on without me. Just around the corner from the can company, fire trucks lined the street and a thick blanket of smoke covered the sky. A small child lay wrapped in a familiar red- and black-checkered flannel shirt, held by a tearful woman. She was talking to a fireman and a reporter from the evening news.

"This big guy heard the baby crying, and came right in and got us," she said through joyful tears. "He wrapped his shirt around the baby, and when the sirens came, he ran off down the street."

"Did you get his name?" the reporter asked.

"Yes, sort of," the woman replied. "He said it was Machiavelli."

That evening, the paper ran the story offering a reward to anyone with information about the identity of the Good Samaritan. No one came forward.

_____________________

by Nancy Bouchard (c) 1999, from Chicken Soup for the Unsinkable Soul by Jack Canfield, Mark Victor Hansen and Heather McNamara.

*

Some years ago when I was with the Billy Graham team in a crusade, a businessman came forward one night and received Christ as his Savior. The next Sunday he went to a church where he sometimes attended.

After the service, he walked up to one of the leading elders in this church and said, “I was at the Billy Graham meeting last week out at the ball park. I went forward and received Christ.”

“I heard about it,” the elder replied, “and I am delighted.”

Then the businessman said, “How long have you and I been associated in business?”

“About twenty-three years, I think,” the elder answered.

“Have you known Christ as your Savior all that time?” the businessman asked.

“Yes, I have,” he answered.

“Well, I don’t remember you ever speaking to me about Christ during those years,” the businessman said. The elder hung his head, and the businessman continued: “I have thought highly of you. In fact, I thought so highly of you that I felt if anyone could be as fine a man as you and not be a Christian, then I didn’t have to be a Christian either.”

The elder was a fine man, but he did not have this first mark of a disciple of Jesus Christ.

*

Some years ago when I was with the Billy Graham team in a crusade, a businessman came forward one night and received Christ as his Savior. The next Sunday he went to a church where he sometimes attended.

After the service, he walked up to one of the leading elders in this church and said, “I was at the Billy Graham meeting last week out at the ball park. I went forward and received Christ.”

“I heard about it,” the elder replied, “and I am delighted.”

Then the businessman said, “How long have you and I been associated in business?”

“About twenty-three years, I think,” the elder answered.

“Have you known Christ as your Savior all that time?” the businessman asked.

“Yes, I have,” he answered.

“Well, I don’t remember you ever speaking to me about Christ during those years,” the businessman said. The elder hung his head, and the businessman continued: “I have thought highly of you. In fact, I thought so highly of you that I felt if anyone could be as fine a man as you and not be a Christian, then I didn’t have to be a Christian either.”

The elder was a fine man, but he did not have this first mark of a disciple of Jesus Christ.

*

Thirteen Muslim men sat in a circle, machetes at their side. Three of them were religious leaders, four of them village heads.

For years, Islam had been a part of their village, a part of their lives. Yet on this day in this Southeast Asian country, they sat quietly and listened as two Christian men patiently shared the gospel of Jesus Christ.

The two Christians had befriended the Muslims months earlier, meeting on a regular basis. But for some reason, this day seemed different.

The two Christian storytellers decided not to mince words. The pathway to heaven, they said, does not go through Muhammed or Allah. Jesus Christ, they emphasized, is the only way.

The 13 men remained quiet, nodding their heads. Finally, one of them spoke up.

"We know what you have said is truth," he said.

Mark, the leader of the Christian team and a student at Southern Baptist Theological Seminary, was a bit shocked. "Are these men ready to accept the gospel?" he thought to himself. "Do they truly understand the story of Christ?" Wanting to make certain the men had been listening, Mark got straight to the point.

"I went on to explain that there is no one else," he said. "Muhammed is not a way to heaven. Jesus is the only way. If you have not accepted him as your Lord and Savior, you will spend an eternity in hell. I was very blunt -- exactly what you're not supposed to do.

"They said, 'We understand. We know what you have shared with us is absolute truth.' That's the first time I had heard the word 'absolute truth' used."

The men understood the gospel presentation, but they did not go any further. Although the seeds had been planted that day, there were no decisions for Christ. Their village is a communal system, meaning that they don't make individual decisions. Before the men could become Christians, their entire village had to do the same.

So, when Mark left the village that day, the men were going back to their friends and families, telling them the story of Christ.

Such stories may seem unique, but they aren't. Mark -- whose real name and the country in which he serves are not used in this story for security reasons -- recently completed a stint in Southeast Asia as part of the International Mission Board's Two Plus Two program. The program allows students to spend the final two years of their education on the mission field.

For Mark, the time served as a confirmation that he and his family are called to fulltime missions overseas. Soon, they will return to that same Southeast Asian country. Some of the country is Catholic, but much of it is Muslim. It will be their first visit to the country since the tragic events of Sept. 11.

Is Mark scared? No.

"It could be dangerous, but if you have relationships with people, your people are going to take care of you," he said. "The most unsafe place for us to be is where God hasn't called us. The safest place we could be is where he has called us. As a family we feel very certain God has called us back there to the people."

By his estimate, more than 99 percent of the people he encounters are lost. However, the Spirit is moving, and the gospel is spreading.

Mark has dozens of stories attesting to the work of God.

There was the time when he was getting his hair cut, and the barber -- with whom Mark had built a relationship -- started talking about an interesting rock he had found. The man invited Mark to his house, supposedly to show him the rock.

"We get to his house, he closes the door and he calls his two sons and his wife and says, 'Share the gospel with my family.' He's from the people group that will cut your throat [for converting to Christianity]. His people group are part of the Jihad warriors and are hard to reach."

The day Mark left the country, the barber showed up at the airport, begging Mark to stay. Mark did not want to leave, but he had to. The relationship with the barber was passed on to another IMB missionary.

"When I got ready to leave, he [the barber] grabbed me and kissed me on both cheeks, which is a Muslim departure -- only to another Muslim and only to close family," Mark said. "But that's how he told me bye."Mark's first few months in the country were just as amazing. Soon after arriving in Southeast Asia, he began working among a group of 25,000 refugees who had been chased off their land and were living in unsanitary conditions. The day Mark entered the refugee camp, two adults and five children had died the night before from drinking dirty water.

Thankfully, Mark had brought a water purification system. He set it up and trained a local refugee how to use it. Twelve days later, the police and local military leaders -- overcome with joy -- delivered some good news.

"Do you understand what you have done?" they asked Mark. "There were no deaths last night -- the first time ever -- and it's because you have been able to give them clear water."

But Mark refused to accept credit, and instead told the people that God had saved them from an unsanitary situation. Clean water, they soon learned, cannot compare to the living water found in Christ.

Mark said Southern Baptists -- known in the country as simply "Baptists" -- are held in high regard. In one instance, his Baptist background kept him out of harm's way. One day he and a translator were walking along when a native of the country -- who was a foot and a half taller than Mark -- threatened them with a machete. The man was angry, and he was letting them know it.

"Finally, he blurted out, 'If you were a Baptist, it would be different,'" Mark recalled. "The translator said, 'What do you mean?' He said, 'The Baptists have come and they have been here since the beginning, but there's not a single agency that came here in the beginning that is still here. The Baptists have been here from day one, and they're still here. They're taking care of us and they're loving us.' That's when the translator said, 'He is with the Baptists.'"

The man fell to his knees, grabbed Mark's pants legs and asked for forgiveness for his threatening actions.

"I picked him up, hugged him and told him that he didn't need to ask for forgiveness, and that I understood," Mark said, adding that the man became one of his best supporters.

That man was not the only person affected by Southern Baptists' giving spirit. During Mark's stay in the country an earthquake flattened a predominantly Muslim region. The people were left with no homes, and their water wells were destroyed.

Having visited the region prior to the earthquake, Mark said he had "never felt so hated" in his life. But the earthquake opened the door for the gospel, and Mark and other Christians -- Southern Baptists as well as national Baptists -- swung into action.

The men requested money from Southern Baptist's disaster relief fund, and in two days they had it. The money provided the resources to rebuild some 660 homes and feed 3,366 families. The disaster relief project was so blessed that one-third of the money designated for rebuilding homes was returned to the IMB.

"The government fell apart because the government buildings were destroyed," Mark said. "They had no communication, but the Baptists' network was already there."

Each packet of rice had a gospel message.

"The bag of rice had the Scripture from Psalms that said, 'The mountains will fall into the sea. God will provide for his people,'" Mark said. "We passed the food out, and we also spent time with the people and began to develop relationships."

Two years ago, before Mark left America, some of his friends told him that the gospel could not be spread in such a hostile country. Mark, though, now knows differently.

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A Christian friend of Robert Tamasy in the Midwest was general manager of a chain of community newspapers, and his responsibilities included setting advertising policies. At one point he ordered that advertising clients who used a Christian symbol or Bible verse on business cards or stationery would be required to pay cash in advance. These were his worst-paying accounts. One lesson that many of us in the faith still need to learn is that our most effective witness – to non-Christians and to fellow believers – is not through what we say, but through what we do.

#2458

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The story is told of Maxwell Gordon, missionary to India, that when he asked a Hindu scholar to teach him the language, the Hindu replied:

"No, Sahib, I will not teach you my language. You would make me a Christian."

Maxwell replied, "You misunderstand me. I am simply asking you to teach me your language."

Again the Hindu responded, "No, Sahib, I will not teach you. No man can live with you and not become a Christian."

Maxwell Gordon's reputation as a Christian preceded him. His very lifestyle attracted people to Christ. And so it was with the Apostle Paul and his two missionary companions, Silas and Timothy. Saint Francis of Assisi captured their philosophy of evangelism when he said, "It is no use walking anywhere to preach unless we preach as we walk!"

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Another version from an original text at http://www.archive.org/stream/georgemaxwellgor00lewi/georgemaxwellgor00lewi_djvu.txt

Maxwell Gordon (1839-1880), an M.A. of Cambridge, was noted at college for his muscular strength and endurance. In India, he gave himself so wholly up to the natives, that his services could be commanded at any hour. For his labours he took no pay, whether as acting chaplain, or as a missionary. Whatever money he received, he gave to the Mission fund, or to the poor. “ I never,” says Mr Vyse, “met with so unselfish a man. I have known him walk from early morn to late at night through a burning sun on the Dera-Ismail-Khan road, in order that a poor, tired, sick native should ride his pony. The cold weather is very keen on the frontier, and three winters ago, I accidentally came across Mr. Gordon, many miles from the station, without overcoat or vest; he had actually taken them off to give to a sick native and his child, who were both lightly clad, and suffering from the cold. When I spoke to him about it, he was distressed at my having found it out, and said, “ I am strong, and can rough it a bit sometimes.”

I never knew him sleep on the commonest of charpoys (native beds), “the ground was good enough, he would say,” and add, “with straw or date palm leaves for a bed, I can sleep very soundly.” He never drank but water, or water and milk, and his food was plain [unknown word], or unleavened bread, fruit and vegetables ; but, if purposely prepared for him, occasionally a little meat. He was no bigot. I never knew him say anything harsh or severe. Last year I had a very clever fellow as sowar (trooper), who was great at Bilochi and frontier languages. Mr. Gordon was anxious to engage him as Moonshee (or teacher of languages), and offered him 70 rupees a month, or double what the Government was giving him; moreover, that he should receive substantial compensation in lieu of his far-off pension. “Sahib, I dare not,” said the sowar. “I should be made a Christian.” Mr. Gordon promised not to mention the subject of religion. But the sowar replied, “It is too tempting. I love Gordon Sahib, and in spite of myself, I am sure I could not help accepting his religion.” There is a grand field for missionary enterprise on the north-west frontier of India, but you want men of the stamp of Mr. Gordon, who has now met his death as a volunteer chaplain, where he thought he was most wanted.

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George Maxwell Gordon; the pilgrim missionary of the Punjab. A history of his life and work, 1839-1880, by Arthur Lewis, December 1888.

She remained single in order to care for her sick brother. She came from a wealthy family living in a large house in the center of Beijing. In 1949, she was branded a 'rich landowner', and was forced to leave her villa and live in a garden hut. Following the outbreak of the Cultural Revolution, she lost her job as a doctor, and was sent to a labor gang, where she had to shovel sand. The Red Army severely humiliated her, beating her, parading her through the streets with a sign listing all her 'crimes'. They put a sign outside her house, labeling her as an outcast for distributing 'imperialistic literature' (the Bible).

Mabel went through hell. Beaten and humiliated, she returned to her hut one day and told God “I can't go on any more”. She took a large chopping knife and held it over her wrist. Before she struck, she prayed “Lord, if this is wrong, help me!” She didn't use the knife, but instead sat down and broke out in tears. She endured the beatings and scorn for eight more years.

“Somehow, God gave me the strength to go on,” she says. She only understood many years later; at the end of the 1970s, the Red Army was disbanded. Mabel was not rehabilitated, and was not given her house back. Instead, people sought her out; to her astonishment, many of them were high-ranking Communist officials. Even more astonishingly, they all asked for Bibles. “Why do you come to me? Of all of Beijing's population, why come to the house of a 70-year-old woman?” The answer was always the same: “During the Cultural Revolution, there was a sign in front of your house listing everything you did wrong. One of them was distributing Bibles. I came in the hope you might still have one.”

It was wonderfully poetic justice that the very sign which made her life hell was the key to missionary work. Through contact with a Western missions organization, Mabel managed to open the first Bible smuggling channel into the Chinese capital. Some of the Christians among the high-ranking Communist Party officials have Mabel to thank for their faith. Mabel recalls “Every day was a battle, and it was hard. But it was good to see the reason for the suffering. That strengthens my faith.”

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Source: Mr. Mom's Mailing List, http://mrmom.amaonline.com/

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[Original illustration here was a duplicate in HolwickID 25837-26027]

He stood six feet, nine inches tall and weighted in at 310 pounds. Rumor had it that he'd killed a man with his bare hands - just squeezed the life out of him. It was the kind of reputation that gained respect in the rough city where we grew up. At fifteen, Big Willy was already a legend.

Willy and I had played together since we both wore diapers, although we were the unlikeliest of pairs. He was a massive black giant and I was a pudgy little redhead. We both worked at the factory in town - I in the office, Willy on the dock. Even the hardened men who worked alongside Willy feared him.

He saw me home safely from work and I kept his secret that each night, instead of cruising the city streets, beating people up, he went home and lovingly lifted his elderly grandmother out of the chair she was confined to and placed her in bed. He would read to her until she fell asleep, and in the morning, he would comb her thin, gray hair, dress her in the beautiful nightgowns he bought with the money he made at the can company, and place her back in the chair.

Willy had lost both his parents to drugs, and it was just the two of them now. He took care of her, and she gave him a reason to stay clean. Of course, there wasn't an ounce of truth to the rumors, but Willy never said otherwise. He just let everyone believe what they believed, and although everyone wrote him off as just another street hood, no one hassled him either.

One day, in Western Civilization class, our teacher read aloud an excerpt from Machiavelli's "The Prince": "Since love and fear cannot exist together, if we must choose between them, it is far safer to be feared than loved." I looked at Willy and winked. "That's you," I mouthed. He just smiled.

The next day, I lingered a few minutes longer than usual at school and Willy went on without me. Just around the corner from the can company, fire trucks lined the street and a thick blanket of smoke covered the sky. A small child lay wrapped in a familiar red- and black-checkered flannel shirt, held by a tearful woman. She was talking to a fireman and a reporter from the evening news.

"This big guy heard the baby crying, and came right in and got us," she said through joyful tears. "He wrapped his shirt around the baby, and when the sirens came, he ran off down the street."

"Did you get his name?" the reporter asked.

"Yes, sort of," the woman replied. "He said it was Machiavelli."

That evening, the paper ran the story offering a reward to anyone with information about the identity of the Good Samaritan. No one came forward.

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by Nancy Bouchard (c) 1999, from Chicken Soup for the Unsinkable Soul by Jack Canfield, Mark Victor Hansen and Heather McNamara.

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