Lost: The Crowning Evidence

The overwhelming proof of the lostness of mankind is that people rarely look up from the humdrum existence of their daily lives to ask, “Where is all this headed? What is out there? Where are we going?”

In a 1965 sermon reprinted in the May 2010 issue of “Decision” magazine, Billy Graham tells of the time when Robert Ingersoll, well-known atheist of the 19th century, was addressing an audience in a small town in New York. The orator forcefully laid out his doubts concerning a future judgement and the reality of hell.

At the conclusion, a drunk stood up in the back of the room, and said through slurred speech, “I sure hope you’re right, Brother Bob. I’m counting on that!”

Billy Graham commented, “Modern man does not like to think of God in terms of wrath, anger and judgment. He likes to make God according to his own ideas and give God the characteristics he wants Him to possess. Man wants to remake God to conform to his own wishful thinking, so that he can make himself comfortable in his sins.”

That struck a note with me. I had just been reading where someone did just that.

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Lost! (10 Ways We May Know People are Lost)

“The Son of Man has come to seek and save those who were lost” (Luke 19:10).

Someone asked Daniel Boone if in all his wilderness travels he had ever been lost. “No,” he drawled, “but once I was bewildered for three whole days.”

Bewildered in a wilderness. Sounds like the place to do that.

The great difficulty in rescuing the lost–the assignment God’s children have been handed by the Lord Jesus–is compounded when the subjects do not realize their dire situation.

How would one go about convincing a lost person he was lost? And why do that in the first place?

Clearly, if one is on-board the damaged Titanic and while scurrying to get off the doomed vessel with as many survivors as possible, he runs into partying passengers without the slightest awareness of their situation, he needs to tell them. He will want to alarm them even, and convince them to take action to save themselves. Whether they will listen is another story.

If we know the hurricane is coming and this neighborhood is about to be destroyed, we will do all in our power to alert the residents.

The days of our lives are finite and this world is doomed. Someone needs to tell the passengers.

In trying to alert the Titanic’s guests or the residents of the Lower Ninth Ward the day before Katrina, you would learn far more about the lostness of mankind in a few minutes than in all the years of your life to that point.

Anyone trying to save the lost–whether at sea, in penthouses having the time of their lives, in prisons, or sitting in comfortable pews with hymnals in their laps–is going to run into a number of realities concerning this condition.

Most lost people do not know they are lost. And many do not care.

The corollary to that is that God’s people often do not seem to know people are lost either. We get taken in by the impressive house they live in, the expensive clothes they wear, their suave manner, or by their religious ardor. If they are really cool, as celebrities and politicians are cool, we’re tempted to give them a pass.

Lost is lost. People without God are in big trouble.

Here are some of the ways we know man is lost.

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Humility: How Sweet, How Humiliating

Last Tuesday morning, TV celeb Julia Louis-Dreyfus received a star in the Hollywood Walk of Fame. Well known–okay, she’s famous–as Elaine on “Seinfeld” and starring in the current hit “The New Adventures of Old Christine,” Julia had arrived, she thought (as she arrived?).

But then she noticed something. The star had her name misspelled.

Whoever had made the star had her name as “Julia Luis Dreyfus.” No hyphen and “Louis” was missing the “o.”

Julia called it “a great metaphor for show business. Right when you think you’ve made it, you get knocked down.”

“(It’s) how this business works,” she laughed.

I read somewhere that the celebrity or his/her supporters have to shell out $10,000 for the privilege of receiving one of those stars. So it’s not quite the honor it appears to be. And then they get your name wrong.

It’s no fun being humbled, particularly in public.

I’ve told on these pages how as a new pastor in Charlotte, NC, nearly a quarter of a century ago, I had the church purchase a nice ad to tell the city of our Sunday services (as well as, ahem, our new pastor). We laid it out, the newspaper’s people assured us it would be done just as we said, and all was well. The brand-spanking new pastor would be suitably announced and welcomed.

Saturday’s paper came and I eagerly turned to the appropriate page. There was our ad. It was indeed attractive. But wait–are my eyes deceiving me? Can this be right?

Underneath my picture, the ad read, “Dr. I. M. Pastor.”

I’m not making this up.

It turned out that this was a little in-house joke the advertising department played when laying out an ad. For a banking ad, the line would read, “I. M. Banker,” that sort of thing. But they always changed the line before it went to press. Except this time they didn’t.

On Sunday, my congregation was not sure what to think. Most had not seen it, and those who had were puzzled. Some said, “Our pastor has this quirky sense of humor.” He has that, I suppose, but he also has enough insecurity about himself not to pull such a self-deprecating stunt.

It was a tad funny, a good bit embarrassing, and completely humbling. An inauspicious beginning to what turned out to be the most difficult three years of my life.

I was reminded of the role humility can play by something that happened this week when someone asked a question about Bible prophecy.

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Lost!

A friend and I, both adjunct professors at our local Baptist seminary, were doing one of our favorite things: drinking coffee and talking about students, classes, theology, and such.

He said, “I tell my students there is one huge thing they must understand about human nature: people are stupid.”

I laughed, “Could you find some more theologically correct way of putting that?”

He said, “I mean it. Think about it. They can not be counted on to do even the most basic thing in life–look out for their own best interests.”

If that’s the definition of stupid–working against one’s own welfare–then it’s hard to argue with my friend.

–The drivers on the interstate around here comprise the alpha and omega of this argument for my money. Watch them risking their future and the lives of their riders for a little more speed, a little better position, a few more thrills. After watching a daredevil scoot in and out of narrow slots in high-speed traffic while endangering everyone around him, we would like to ask that driver, “Friend, was it worth what you risked to gain a little better position on the highway?”

We don’t do that, of course. We already know the answer: he wasn’t thinking. He was responding to the adrenalin in his system. He was not in control of his thinking. He was acting stupid.

–The daily newspaper in any city in America will furnish all the anecdotal evidence for the self-destructiveness of humanity. A medical doctor loses his license and livelihood and goes to prison for selling prescriptions for controlled substances, all for a little more money. A politician who was making a hundred thousand a year sells his influence for a tiny fraction of that, and ends up losing everything.

Friends who live a few miles west of New Orleans were all abuzz the other night. Helicopters were hovering over their homes. When a woman went out to put her garbage on the curb, a policeman suggested she stay in the house. The next morning, the newspaper announced that cops had arrested three people who had robbed a bank in that area. They had pulled ski masks over their faces, held up the bank, and then sped away. Witnesses called 911 and they were apprehended. They “owned” the loot from the robbery for a few hours; they will pay for that with 20 years of their lives.

–A respected pastor with a long record of service to God and the church “falls in love” with his secretary, a deacon’s wife, a counselee, or the church organist. To “fulfill his needs,” he breaks the hearts of his wife and chiildren, breaks the trust of thousands who have respected and followed his leadership, and breaks the vows he made to God.

What are you thinking?

“I wasn’t thinking,” one man told me. “I was stupid.”

In listening to such a confession, no hearer delights in the self-destructive behavior of the penitent. For there is one inescapable fact that looms over this entire conversation:

We are all stupid; we have all done self-destructive things. None are faultless.

And that is the saddest thing I know. People are so lost.

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Saturday Night’s Angst (A Poem of Sorts)

(Or maybe we should say, “A Poem Out of Sorts.” I’m embarrassed to post this, but perhaps some pastor somewhere will connect with it.)

It’s Saturday night and sermon time–

When the brain starts to panic

And fears shift into overdrive.

I’ve worked on this message all week–

Labored over the text and yes I’ve

Checked the Hebrew and also the Greek.

You’d think by now I’ve have it down

To a system, a method, an art,

But here in my study, my brain has shut down.

It’s not that I don’t know what to do,

It’s certainly not a new spot to be in

When the calendar and the clock say a sermon is due.

I’ve got twenty-eight points and need just three;

Four directions and hardly a clue.

Dear Lord, I could use your simplicity.

What shall I do with all these notes?

Take them into the pulpit?

That would be a joke.

Maybe if I laid them aside

And went on to bed

My subconscious would organize

Everything God has said.

I’ve heard of preachers who can work all week

With hardly a thought of next Sunday morn,

Then stand and let it flow, organized and neat.

But that’s not me, Lord–O that it were!

To stand and proclaim with hardly a stir,

And know that I had delivered life’s elixir.

So, back to the study; back on my knees.

Here I am again, Lord; help me please.

Refresh my staleness with Thy heavenly breeze.

And then, Monday morning, I run across

The notes and recall how I tossed

And turned all night through

Worrying, “Lord, what should I do?”

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Decision-Making: How Believers Spend Their Lives

“If anyone is willing to do His will, he shall know of the teaching, whether it is of God….” (John 7:17 NASB)

The big question in every decision for the Jesus-follower is always: “What does He want me to do?”

In fact, it may be the only question. Everything else is secondary and in a sense, irrelevant.

Google “decision-making” and you will come away with a garageful of rules, principles, and considerations: list all the options, decide on the outcomes you want, identify your own wishes, inventory your resources and abilities, consider the practicality of each option, the number of people to be affected by each, the timing of your decision, what your trusted advisors counsel, how this will affect your future, what it will cost, what you will wish you had done a year from now, a hundred years from now, a million years. The list is endless.

Years ago, Billy Graham and his team were trying to find a word to describe salvation but one without a lot of theological baggage. They chose “decision.” Their radio program became “The Hour of Decision” and their monthly magazine, “Decision.” The concept figured in all his messages: “I’m going to ask you to make a decision tonight….”

And it incurred the wrath of half the Calvinists in the country.

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Pastoral Dribblings

Pastor, scan through these offerings and see if you find anything of use as illustrations for sermons. Or, just as good, perhaps they will spark an idea inside you.

UNREQUITED LOVE

In 1964, a hitchhiker was picked up on the highway and given a ride by an 18- year-old woman. They chatted, she dropped him off, and they each went on their way. Within minutes, the man decided that he was in love with her. I mean, seriously, head over heels, a real goner.

The problem was that he had no way to contact her. She was gone. But he never forgot her.

Thirty-one years later, he came across her name in the newspaper in the obituary of her mother. So he sent her 5 dozen roses–alongwith all the letters he had written her over 31 years.

Thirty-one years of letters.

The police found in his house stacks of Christmas cards and boxes of birthday prsents for every one of those 31 years. Of course, by now she was 48 years old.

I said the police found them, because the woman had him arrested for misdemeanor harassment after he kept hounding her.

That’s the thing about love…

a) you love someone and they may not know it. Think of Charlie Brown and the little red-headed girl.

b) you love someone and they do not want it. So the love is not returned.

c) you love someone and they are not worthy.

“God demonstrated His love for us in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us” (Romans 5:8). We weren’t worthy, were we?

“We love Him because He first loved us” (I John 4:19). We return His love when we turn to Christ in salvation.

WHO IS THE GREATEST?

The radio preacher I was listening to told his audience that the greatest orator in the ancient world was Cicero. The second was Julius Caesar. And coming in third was Apollos.

My question is: who decided this? And how did he know?

Since no one living has heard either of them, we honestly have no basis for comparison. And yet, here we have them ranked in order of effectiveness in oratory.

The man of God put this forth as fact, but I think we can agree that he was not the scholar who made this determination. But somebody did.

My problem is pastors who pontificate on matters they have no right or business or background for doing so. He did not cite an authority but laid that line before his audience as accepted fact.

Standing at the pulpit with the eyes of hundreds of people upon you presents a huge temptation for any minister. It can be a heady experience. One has to keep his wits about him and pray constantly for the Lord to “set a guard upon my mouth, O Lord; keep watch over the door of my lips” (Psalm 141:3).

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Part IV–The Christian Bucket List

20. Cater lunch for the entire church.

Now, if your name is Clyde Etheridge (a deacon in my church), then you’ll not need to cater it; you can feed everyone yourself. I was in the church office this week when Clyde walked in and asked Julie, my daughter-in-law and the pastor’s administrative assistant, if the bulletin had been done for Sunday. He inserted a note that next Wednesday night’s meal would be a Mexican feast in honor of Cinco de Mayo. He said, “I’ve never done this before, but it might be fun.”

I admire people who can do this. I’m not one of them.

A few weeks ago, as we were completing a five-day meeting at Salem Baptist Church in lovely Brundidge, Alabama, Pastor Bobby Hood informed the congregation that they were all to stay for lunch on Sunday. “Sue and I are providing it for you.” They paid to have it catered for the entire church.

I said, “Bobby, how do you do that?” He smiled, “With a check.”

Smart aleck.

My siblings and I once did it for the entire church back at Nauvoo, Alabama, on the Sunday following our reunion, but I’ve never tried it by myself. An interesting idea.

19. Write down the story of your life.

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To The Shepherd of a Stagnant Flock

How many churches have stopped growing in this country, in your denomination, of your church-type, in your county or parish or town? It depends on who you ask.

Go on line and you’ll soon have statistics coming out your ears on this subject.

In our denomination–the Southern Baptist Convention–the most significant number, one that seems to have held steady for over three decades, is that some 70 percent of our churches are either in decline or have plateaued.

Plateau. Funny word to use for a church. One wonders how that came to be. Why didn’t they say “mesa,” “plain,” “delta” (ask anyone who lives in the Mississippi Delta–flat, flat, flat!), or even “flatline.”

Of course, in the emergency room, to “flatline” is to be dead. No one (to my knowledge) is saying a non-growing church is dead, just that some things are not right.

Healthy churches grow. Non-growing churches are not healthy, at least in some significant ways.

If it’s true that 7 out of 10 pastors in our family of churches lead congregations either in decline or in stagnation, this is a situation that ought to be addressed.

To my knowledge, everyone is addressing it. Everyone has an opinion.

My single contribution to this discussion is directed toward the shepherd of a stagnant flock: “If your church has plateaued, make sure you haven’t.”

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Part III — The Christian’s Bucket List

30. Make up your own bucket list.

These fifty are only suggestions, some of them mine and some from Facebook friends. Not everything will suit you; find those that do.

A friend who works with the Baptist churches across Montana suggested no one should go to Heaven without first visiting the Big Sky state. I’m not sure everyone will want that on their list, but there it is.

Someone else suggested sky diving and bungee jumping. Not for me, thanks. But you will have your own list.

29. Make a will.

You’d be surprised how few Christians have wills stating what is to be done with all they leave behind after their death. I suspect it’s because we don’t want to think about dying, don’t want to have to arrange to see a lawyer, or think we’re far too young for this sort of thing.

Read the ages in the people across your newspaper’s obituary page today and decide for yourself. I just turned 70 and fully half the people making today’s obits are younger than I am.

In most cases, you simply leave everything to your children to be divided equally. But if they’re small, you’ll still want to name their guardians in case you and your spouse depart simultaneously. And then, the lawyer will think of questions to ask that never occurred to you.

The Baptist Foundation in whatever state convention your church is part of will have a type of kit to assist you in thinking this through. After filling out the information it asks for, you could take that to your lawyer and simplify the process.

28. Wash someone’s feet.

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