I do
F: "I'm bored"
M: "Then read more Bible"
F: "I do"
M: "Then memorize the Bible"
F: "I am, but it's true, I find it hard to pray nowadays, no motivation, nothing to do"
M: "Then pray for the desire to pray"
F: "I do"
M: "Pray for it more"
F: "..."
The terrifying thing is that most of the time, we answer with, "I do" as a means to justify ourselves. It's the proverbial "get off my back, you don't know me" answer. Our first instinct is to be defensive not humble. We want to deserve praise and admiration not scolding and admonishment. Yet, in most circumstances, if we were to examine our priorities, we'd probably find that what we "do" is usually the least of what's required, and maybe a little bit more on the side when we feel like it.
In reading the first few pages of the biography of C.S. Lewis by John Piper, Piper writes that Lewis' students knew Lewis as one of the least self-interested people that they've ever met. Often, they'd quote parts of his book at him, and he'd respond, "who wrote that" only to get the response, "you did sir". As much as it probably humbled Lewis to know that he was being used by God in such powerful ways through such powerful words, it was probably even more humbling for the student to see that a man, as great as Lewis, could forget the efficacy of his work and its impact on his or her life, let alone the evangelical world. He forgot how great he was. And let's be honest, of great men, C.S. Lewis is probably one of the greatest. It wasn't that Lewis was a forgetful man, in fact he was able to recite great quantities of the Bible at will, and put the most learned atheist to shame with simple, practiced, sentences of what he had memorized. The thing is the lines he used were never reiterations of things he had written, but of words that he actively and intentionally sought to imprint on his heart from the Bible through prayer. He was a man obsessed with the person of God. He was probably one of the least self-interested and most God-interested men of the modern/post-modern era.
Another great Christian, George Whitefield, was known, perhaps, as the least self-interested person since Paul. This man would go to bed at 10 pm, wake up at 4 am everyday. In the time he was awake, he would either be preaching on, praying in, memorizing, or reading the Bible; sometimes he would wake up at night panicked at how much time he had been apart from conversation with God and instead of going back to sleep, he'd kneel beside his bed and pray until the peace of the Spirit returned to him. He preached at least two two-hour sermons per day for 40 years without breaks; that meant no Christmas, no new years, no easter weekend, no civic holidays, everyday was a day to speak about the work of Christ, the effect of sin, the call to repentance, and the salvation of sin into righteousness, joy, and fellowship with God. His speaking was never half-hearted. In one sermon, he became so passionate and forceful in his words that he banged the pulpit and floor at the same time and yelled, "YES! IF YOU WEREN'T AWAKE BEFORE, YOU ARE NOW, BECAUSE IF THERE IS A MESSAGE THAT YOU ARE GOING TO HEAR, IT IS GOING TO BE THIS ONE. SIR, IN THE FRONT ROW, ARE YOU AWAKE? GOOD! IF THERE WAS SOMETHING THAT I NEED YOU TO KNOW, IT IS THIS MESSAGE THAT I AM DELIVERING TO YOU!" And still, his words were never angry. Every sermon, he would deliver the words of God in tears. His heart would break for the unbeliever right in front of their eyes. He had no savings, no extra money. He would even deny monetary contributions and offerings that exceeded costs for the most simple living. In conversations with friends, he would seek to transform their lives by speaking only of God and his attributes - evangelism wasn't just a gift to him, it was the purpose of life empowered by the Spirit. People would come to his open-air preaching events with the intent to kill him, but would walk away regenerated, believers, transformed. On the last day of his life, when he looked his weakest and unable to open his mouth, he prayed that he might be able to give one more sermon before Christ took him home, and most say that it was the best he ever delivered. That night he died of an asthmatic attack. He knew he was going to die, but literally took to heart the view that any amount of living is Christ and the eventuality of death is only gain. None I fear but God, and He, my greatest love. George Whitefield was the least self-interested man I have ever had the pleasure of reading about in an age of finer living, medicine, modernization, and industrialization.
Finally, Paul. I'm not going to write about how little interest he had in himself. If you want a full account, read 2 Corinthians. However, one thing these three men put into perspective is how little we actually "do". We're so willing to be self-justified in the least amount of effort because, in the current climate of things, the least is probably more than the next "average" Christian. Our faithlessness doesn't mortify us because in the eyes of the world, we are faithful.
Perhaps this is the other side of the coin of Christ's call to not be apart of the world. On the one hand, we shouldn't indulge in the pleasures that worldly things have to offer, because our ultimate pleasure is God alone in the face of Christ as our ultimate treasure. But on the other, our standards should never be set against the world, but against His word; that when we deny ourselves and take up the cross, we don't pick up the one that is made of twigs, but the heavy, splintered, unfashioned, and burdensome thing that Christ carried after being beaten, bruised, mocked, and betrayed.
In 1 John 1:5, we see the picture of God being light, and not only do we see that he is light, but we also get the contrasting picture that he has no darkness at all. In the Greek we get a double negative - he is not darkness, none. The double negative isn't to enforce the contra-positive, but rather, it's to bring out just how absurd the thought of God and darkness as neighbouring or relational entities is. He is ALL LIGHT and NO DARKNESS, NONE OF IT. There is no half-hearted method with God. When he gives us his light, there is no darkness to be shared with it. He can't have any of it, because it would limit his holiness. How then are we to respond? We respond in the knowledge that we can never actually "do" enough. That when we say "I do" we're really just saying, "God, get off my back, you don't know me". But he does, and he knows exactly what we're capable of, and that, I imagine, breaks his heart. That we aren't mortified at our faithlessness and taken up with his unfailing faithfulness.
Let us abound in our working for the Lord, because the providence of his joy and power is infinite, and only we and our sin can attempt to limit what only he can help us accomplish, if only we let him, if only we remain faithful to his unfailing light.
I shall not answer "I do" in fear of what "I don't", and even then, what I "do" is never enough to qualify and match what has already been done for me. All glory and majesty to your name, Jesus.
M: "Then read more Bible"
F: "I do"
M: "Then memorize the Bible"
F: "I am, but it's true, I find it hard to pray nowadays, no motivation, nothing to do"
M: "Then pray for the desire to pray"
F: "I do"
M: "Pray for it more"
F: "..."
The terrifying thing is that most of the time, we answer with, "I do" as a means to justify ourselves. It's the proverbial "get off my back, you don't know me" answer. Our first instinct is to be defensive not humble. We want to deserve praise and admiration not scolding and admonishment. Yet, in most circumstances, if we were to examine our priorities, we'd probably find that what we "do" is usually the least of what's required, and maybe a little bit more on the side when we feel like it.
In reading the first few pages of the biography of C.S. Lewis by John Piper, Piper writes that Lewis' students knew Lewis as one of the least self-interested people that they've ever met. Often, they'd quote parts of his book at him, and he'd respond, "who wrote that" only to get the response, "you did sir". As much as it probably humbled Lewis to know that he was being used by God in such powerful ways through such powerful words, it was probably even more humbling for the student to see that a man, as great as Lewis, could forget the efficacy of his work and its impact on his or her life, let alone the evangelical world. He forgot how great he was. And let's be honest, of great men, C.S. Lewis is probably one of the greatest. It wasn't that Lewis was a forgetful man, in fact he was able to recite great quantities of the Bible at will, and put the most learned atheist to shame with simple, practiced, sentences of what he had memorized. The thing is the lines he used were never reiterations of things he had written, but of words that he actively and intentionally sought to imprint on his heart from the Bible through prayer. He was a man obsessed with the person of God. He was probably one of the least self-interested and most God-interested men of the modern/post-modern era.
Another great Christian, George Whitefield, was known, perhaps, as the least self-interested person since Paul. This man would go to bed at 10 pm, wake up at 4 am everyday. In the time he was awake, he would either be preaching on, praying in, memorizing, or reading the Bible; sometimes he would wake up at night panicked at how much time he had been apart from conversation with God and instead of going back to sleep, he'd kneel beside his bed and pray until the peace of the Spirit returned to him. He preached at least two two-hour sermons per day for 40 years without breaks; that meant no Christmas, no new years, no easter weekend, no civic holidays, everyday was a day to speak about the work of Christ, the effect of sin, the call to repentance, and the salvation of sin into righteousness, joy, and fellowship with God. His speaking was never half-hearted. In one sermon, he became so passionate and forceful in his words that he banged the pulpit and floor at the same time and yelled, "YES! IF YOU WEREN'T AWAKE BEFORE, YOU ARE NOW, BECAUSE IF THERE IS A MESSAGE THAT YOU ARE GOING TO HEAR, IT IS GOING TO BE THIS ONE. SIR, IN THE FRONT ROW, ARE YOU AWAKE? GOOD! IF THERE WAS SOMETHING THAT I NEED YOU TO KNOW, IT IS THIS MESSAGE THAT I AM DELIVERING TO YOU!" And still, his words were never angry. Every sermon, he would deliver the words of God in tears. His heart would break for the unbeliever right in front of their eyes. He had no savings, no extra money. He would even deny monetary contributions and offerings that exceeded costs for the most simple living. In conversations with friends, he would seek to transform their lives by speaking only of God and his attributes - evangelism wasn't just a gift to him, it was the purpose of life empowered by the Spirit. People would come to his open-air preaching events with the intent to kill him, but would walk away regenerated, believers, transformed. On the last day of his life, when he looked his weakest and unable to open his mouth, he prayed that he might be able to give one more sermon before Christ took him home, and most say that it was the best he ever delivered. That night he died of an asthmatic attack. He knew he was going to die, but literally took to heart the view that any amount of living is Christ and the eventuality of death is only gain. None I fear but God, and He, my greatest love. George Whitefield was the least self-interested man I have ever had the pleasure of reading about in an age of finer living, medicine, modernization, and industrialization.
Finally, Paul. I'm not going to write about how little interest he had in himself. If you want a full account, read 2 Corinthians. However, one thing these three men put into perspective is how little we actually "do". We're so willing to be self-justified in the least amount of effort because, in the current climate of things, the least is probably more than the next "average" Christian. Our faithlessness doesn't mortify us because in the eyes of the world, we are faithful.
Perhaps this is the other side of the coin of Christ's call to not be apart of the world. On the one hand, we shouldn't indulge in the pleasures that worldly things have to offer, because our ultimate pleasure is God alone in the face of Christ as our ultimate treasure. But on the other, our standards should never be set against the world, but against His word; that when we deny ourselves and take up the cross, we don't pick up the one that is made of twigs, but the heavy, splintered, unfashioned, and burdensome thing that Christ carried after being beaten, bruised, mocked, and betrayed.
In 1 John 1:5, we see the picture of God being light, and not only do we see that he is light, but we also get the contrasting picture that he has no darkness at all. In the Greek we get a double negative - he is not darkness, none. The double negative isn't to enforce the contra-positive, but rather, it's to bring out just how absurd the thought of God and darkness as neighbouring or relational entities is. He is ALL LIGHT and NO DARKNESS, NONE OF IT. There is no half-hearted method with God. When he gives us his light, there is no darkness to be shared with it. He can't have any of it, because it would limit his holiness. How then are we to respond? We respond in the knowledge that we can never actually "do" enough. That when we say "I do" we're really just saying, "God, get off my back, you don't know me". But he does, and he knows exactly what we're capable of, and that, I imagine, breaks his heart. That we aren't mortified at our faithlessness and taken up with his unfailing faithfulness.
Let us abound in our working for the Lord, because the providence of his joy and power is infinite, and only we and our sin can attempt to limit what only he can help us accomplish, if only we let him, if only we remain faithful to his unfailing light.
I shall not answer "I do" in fear of what "I don't", and even then, what I "do" is never enough to qualify and match what has already been done for me. All glory and majesty to your name, Jesus.