I am ’way too comfy. If you looked at the stuff I’ve gathered around me, you could easily get the impression that I was planning on being here for ever. As a friend in Ireland facetiously said while we toured some recent renovations on his property, “Signs of our pilgrimage everywhere!”
Is there any indication from our lifestyle that most North American evangelicals still believe in the soon return of Christ? Some pilgrim tents we have! Of course it isn’t the size of the house we live in that is the issue. George Müller had a really big place—and filled it with two thousand orphans! Lord Radstock, although he sold off things that provided personal comfort, kept his estate—and used it to lead scores of Europe’s crowned heads to Christ. Robert Cleaver Chapman had TWO houses! Of course he used them for the overflow of guests who came from all over to learn at his “university of love.” Thank God for all believers with hearts as big as their houses, who use everything they have for the advancement of the Great Cause.
But I fear that my life is badly overstocked. People in the retail business are always looking for ways to shorten the turn-around time of things sitting on their shelves. And I need to get thinking that way, too. Abraham’s example humbles me. He was a very rich man. If he had over 300 servants able to wield swords, it would not be unreasonable to estimate his household to exceed 1000—imagine his grocery bill! The Lord told him that all he beheld was his. Yet he deliberately chose a tent as an appropriate dwelling place all his life. And why? “By faith he sojourned in the land of promise, as in a strange country, dwelling in tabernacles with Isaac and Jacob, the heirs with him of the same promise: for he looked for a city which hath foundations, whose builder and maker is God” (Heb. 11:9-10). He felt his lifestyle should be appropriate to his belief that everything he had down here was temporary.
At a recent gathering of pioneer preachers (see the report on page 5), someone commented that it will be difficult to uproot the present generation of good young couples so they can be available for pioneering new assemblies. Not because they won’t move geographically—they are highly mobile—but because of the warm embrace of the so-called American dream, the reasonably comfy North American Christian lifestyle.
Then there was a pause in the conversation. And a look of well-deserved embarrassment as one preacher gulped out, “I guess they learned it from us.”
I guess they did. Again, it isn’t the kind of car you drive or where you take your holidays; these are superficial things that can’t be a true measure of devotedness vs. worldliness. The problem is deeper than that. We often misunderstand Paul’s disappointment with his fellow-worker, Demas. It is a misquotation to say he loved this present evil world. There is no indication that Demas was doing anything other than going to have some meetings! Here is how the passage reads: “For Demas hath forsaken me, having loved this present world, and is departed unto Thessalonica; Crescens to Galatia, Titus unto Dalmatia” (2 Tim. 4:10). As far as I can see, these three men were all going on preaching campaigns. The difference with Demas seems to have been an unwillingness to bear Paul’s hardships. It was the present he loved rather than living for eternity.
If preachers like me are—consciously or unconsciously—protecting ourselves from roughing it, we can hardly be convincing when we speak to others about putting our all on the altar. Who are we convincing? Not many, it seems. How different from the gospel pioneers who were used by God to establish many of our local assemblies in North America. As veteran Donald Ross used to say, they could always use more help from some real workers who were prepared to “break up the prairie and be content with bed, board, and washing.”
Without mentioning financial struggles, primitive transportation and lodgings, poor meals, loneliness and long absence from families, Alexander Marshall (renowned as the author of the much-blessed gospel booklet, God’s Way of Salvation) in a letter dated October 11, 1882, wrote:
“Labourers are beset by difficulties and trials on every hand. Breaking up fresh ground is not easy, but it is delightful work. Those who are called to this service need much courage, faith, and patience. They must also be willing to ‘endure hardness as good soldiers of Jesus Christ,’ and count on being misunderstood, misrepresented, and maligned. Into whatever town, hamlet, or village they enter, they are met by the cry, ‘Why come here? There are plenty of churches and ministers.’
“It cannot be questioned that there are many ‘churches’ and ‘ministers’ in Canada and in the States; but, alas, amidst the profession that abounds few there are, comparatively speaking, who can give ‘a reason of the hope that is within them.’ Whenever the gospel is told out in freshness, simplicity, and power, the cry is raised ‘Heresy! heresy!’ One minister where I laboured for a considerable time declared that ‘simply believing on the Lord Jesus might do for the days of the apostles, but would not do now.’
“When evangelists go to districts, and preach in halls or schoolhouses, taking with them an open Bible, teaching the young converts what God has taught them, they are accused of being ‘breakers up of the churches’ and ‘sowers of division,’ and the people are warned to beware of them. More labourers are much needed. There is a wide and open door all throughout Canada and the States for the preaching of the gospel. There is much land to be possessed. Young men who have a heart for God and souls, and who are fitted for preaching the gospel, would find a splendid field for service “ (Evangelist and Pioneer, pp. 52-53)
That’s away out of my comfort zone! But I wonder: have we been looking for painless preaching, opposition-proof opportunities, and easy evangelism? I’m not the I-love-to-rough-it kind. But I am increasingly feeling that Paul’s words in 2 Corinthians 11:23-33 are more of a job description for evangelists than an exotic piece of church history. I often feel like the Church of England prelate who quipped: “Wherever Paul went, there was a revolution; wherever I go, they serve tea.” Are we expecting that we can somehow disconnect the linkage in these thrilling words: “A great door and effectual is opened unto me—and there are many adversaries” (1 Cor. 16:9)?
NOTE: The following scenes are of a graphic nature; if squeamish, you may wish to stop reading now.
I’m not exactly sure what I’m expecting will happen, or what it will cost if we are going to see this generation do more than maintain existing assemblies at the status quo. I have the feeling that if we are going to really obey the word of Christ to “Go ye (put your name in, if you dare)…” I think it means “For Sale” signs in front of some of our houses, perhaps lost equity because we choose to buy in depressed real estate markets for the sake of the gospel, downsizing and belt-tightening, purposeful job demotions, leaving Grandma and Grandpa for the other side of the continent (or maybe Grandpa and Grandma leaving to do the Master’s bidding in their retirement years), and who knows what else. Whatever the particulars, it means some of us will have to die (1 Jn. 3:16).
Is it possible (I know this is daring) that large assemblies—you know who you are—will think about seeking the Lord’s face in thrusting out those He wants to be breaking new ground? Is it possible that young people—unless called by God to go to college—will consider choosing tent-making trades that allow them to pay their way while evangelizing new areas? Is it possible that prayer meetings will spring up with young couples—encouraged by their elders—meeting to pray for major cities in the Deep South, the Far West, Quebec and all across the land; to pray for the pioneers already in the North American field, and to cry to Him, Lord of the vineyard, to thrust out some of them? Is it possible that the Little Rock experiment—begun seven long years ago—will no longer be the exception but the rule? Is it possible…?