Sunday, August 26, 2012

THE CHURCH’S CALL TO ITS PEOPLE--DON'T BE THE DEATH OF ME (Continuation)

A different sermon is begun on Sunday, Tuesday and Thursday. 
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Will your church shrink or grow?  As you will.  As you will.

You may not have a golden tongue but you can be a jewel to life.  The world’s watching. It never ceases to listen.  What are you giving it to hear?  Your pulpit is your personality. 

       If you are sour, you do your Saviors cause no good.  If you mouth is foul and those who hear you know you attend church you destroy its dignity by such representation.  If you practice prejudice, can’t be trusted with the truth, steal at the drop of an opportunity, then, your sermon is of the Devil and your honorarium is from Hell.

Do not tell me you cannot teach.  You teach every day.  You teach sacrifice or laziness or spiritual truths by what you do or leave undone.  Your class is everywhere.

In the 19th chapter of John, the 38th verse, there is the following quote “Joseph of Arimathea, a disciple of Jesus, but secretly.”  That is the problem, now isn’t it?  The secret society called Christians.  Neither by word nor deed making anywhere near as big a mark on the community as it could and should.

Dr. Emil Brunner put his finger on the root of the problem when he said, “As the early church sought security in offices, sacrament and formal creed, it lost its revolutionary power…it ceased to be a new life…it became a mere cult society…”

Vance Havner tells of an experience in a small western town where he had gone to preach.  It seems that down in the lobby of the hotel where he stayed, was a poster listing all the local civic attractions: industry, schools, the library, the business section…and the churches.  He says that it just set him to wondering what that said about the churches, because back in early church history, Christians and their meeting place were never listed as community assets.  And why?  Because they were such a disturbance, a conscience…oh yes, they were not bland.

A young man speaking to this wrote,

I had walked life’s way with an easy tread,

Had followed where comforts and pleasure led,

Until one day in a quiet place

I met the Master face to face.

 

With station, and (fame) ran, and wealth for my goal,

Much thought for my body and none for my soul

I had entered to win in life’s big race,

When I met the Master face to face.

 

I met Him and knew Him and blushed to see,

That His eyes full of sorrow were fixed on me,

I faltered and fell at His feet that day,

While my castles melted and vanished away.

Melted and vanished and in their place,

Naught else did I see but the Master’s face.

 

And I cried aloud, “Oh, make me meet

To follow the steps of Thy wounded feet.”

My thought is now for the souls of men.

I have lost my life to find it again.

Ere since one day in a quiet place

I met the Master face to face.

 

Down through the years, I have been inspired by church members who have taken a stand and lost a bundle.  Men and women who have spoken out, and been called fanatics because of it.  Children who were more mature than their parents.  Lay men and lay women who have been ministers even though never officially ordained.  And it is such as these who have truly kept the church alive.

In THE LIFE OF SAMUEL JOHNSON Boswell relates how as a boy Johnson refused to go to the market place with his father, to sell books.  He was, for some boyish reason, ashamed.  Years later, he was shamed by the remembrance of this refusal so much that as an old man he stood all one day in the spot where his father’s bookstall had been…the rain came down in torrents but he never moved.

Why do some churches die?  Because it’s members, for some reason are ashamed and secretive and quiet about their faith, very very quiet.

 

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       Let it Snow, Let it Snow, Let it Snow (April 2012)

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