MY JESUS, I LOVE THEE

In the contemporary service at my church, most of the worship music is rather recent in composition. However, we frequently pick up one of the church’s great historic hymns, and rearrange it just a bit for guitar and keyboard. Not long ago, my son David, one of the younger members of the Praise Team, was scheduled to lead worship the following Sunday. The song list he chose included his arrangement of the hymn, “My Jesus, I Love Thee.” If you know it, you’ll agree with me: it’s a great song!

When our secretary was compiling the word sheets for the singers, I decided to remove the third verse of the hymn: it’s the verse about dying. My motive was that since the younger Praise Team members were leading on this particular Sunday, a verse about death seemed a bit out of place, perhaps even morbid. Besides, this song was to be the last in the set, and I didn’t want worship to end on a “downer.”

During rehearsal on Thursday evening, as “My Jesus, I Love Thee” was being sung, the David suddenly stopped the group. “Hey!” he called to me where I was seated at the back of the sanctuary, “What happened to the third verse?”

Patiently, I explained my reasons for editing the song.

“But you’ve taken out the best verse!” he protested.

“Yeah,” said David’s older sister Laura. “If loving Jesus doesn’t work when you’re dying, it sure won’t you while you’re living. I mean, if Jesus doesn’t mean everything, He doesn’t mean anything.”

Corrected by this obvious wisdom, and sufficiently humbled by my children, I willingly reinstated the verse; because, now that I thought about it in light of what I had just been told, it really is the best verse of the song.

Not long after that, I stood at the hospital bedside of a precious 92-year-old Christian, who after decades of trusting Jesus, said confidently to his doctor and his family, “I just want to go home and be with Jesus.” Though we weren’t quite as ready to let go of him as he was to lay hold of heaven, after he said the same thing a half-dozen more times, the family agreed. The machines that had been keeping him artificially alive were gradually turned off. In less than a day he went to sleep in bed, and woke up in the arms of Christ.

In the years I knew him, he was never much of a singer, at least not in public. Still, it’s easy to imagine him singing as His Savior came to take him home, something like the third verse of that song, the best verse, the verse I’ll never edit out again.

Here’s how it goes.

I love Thee in life. I will love Thee in death,

And praise Thee as long as Thou lendest me breath;

And say, when the death-dew lies cold on my brow,

“If ever I loved Thee, my Jesus, ‘tis now!”

ONE LIFE AT A TIME

I'm taking a class these days about evangelism. In studying for the class I have learned some overwhelming statistics about the number of people in the USA who don't know Jesus Christ.

What I've learned is that even though as many as 90% of Americans claim to believe in God, between 150 and 180 million Americans say they don't have a relationship with God through His Son Jesus Christ. They may believe in God, but they don't know Him.
With a "faith" apparently similar in nature to that of hell's demons, who "also believe, and tremble" (James 2:19), these 150 to 180 million don't follow God, serve Him or worship Him. From what we can tell, their so-called faith hasn't made one bit of difference in their lives, and it won't change their eternal destiny.

I don't know about you, but information like that can be depressing if you ponder it for long in its full statistical enormity. Let's break it down into a more manageable hunk.

The good news about the Good News is that you don't have to share It with everyone. The 150 to 180 million unsaved people are not all your own personal responsibility.

But some of them are.

Who do you know that you could share Jesus with? Is there a friend, a co-worker, a neighbor, or a family member you could talk with about what Jesus means to you? Is there anyone at all you could invite to your church, or to a Bible study? Surely there's someone you know and care about whose soul you could pray for and whom you could take with you to church.

Surely, there's someone.

Some one.

One life at a time: that's all you need be concerned about. Leave the masses to someone else. All God asks most Christians to do is attend to the one someone right there in front of you, that one who doesn't know the Lord.

At the close of his book, "The Unchurched Next Door," Dr. Thom Rainer relates the following true story shared by Emily N. about her acquaintance Celeste.

"I knew Celeste was different. In fact, I knew she had that peace that I didn't have. We had known each other for just three weeks when Celeste started telling me about her faith. She invited me to church. No, she came by my house and picked me up. Two months later, I accepted Christ.

"You need to understand that I went from totally unchurched, no church background, no knowledge of church to becoming a Christian in just a matter of weeks."

Celeste wasn't focusing on the 150 to 180 million. She was intent upon that one person she knew who didn't know Christ: her friend Emily.

Emily concluded her story this way: "What I'm still trying to figure out, with the millions of Christians in American, is how come it took forty-three years for someone to share about Christ with me. Where are all the other Christians?"

Good question, Emily.

WHOSE CHURCH?

“I will build My church.” – Jesus, Matthew 16:18

If you are a church member, it’s likely that you refer to the church to which you are committed as “my church,” or perhaps “our church.” It has a nice ring to it, and everybody understands what you typically mean. What you’re really saying is that your life and heart are deeply connected to that particular body of believers. You sense a relationship that goes beyond mere formal affiliation to include a sense of belonging: not that the church belongs to you, but that you belong to the church.

However, human nature, allowed to pursue its innately selfish predisposition, can sometimes twist the words “my church” or “our church” into an ugly, cruel thing.

In the first church I served as pastor, I had a graphic lesson in this.

When the “new” church building was built in 1963, there was substantial conflict involved in the planning and fund-raising. Two influential families began (or continued?) a kind of competition over who would raise more money and purchase more of the church’s facility. One family donated the property, and another agreed to pay for a bell tower. All the while several others steadfastly resisted the move from the “old” church building. In an apparent effort to placate these dissenters, it was agreed to use the old pews and altar furnishings in the new building. Even then, when the move was made to the new building, a few hold-outs resolutely refused to attend, asserting “That place isn’t our church.”

A few years later the family that donated the land was planning their daughter’s wedding, and decided that the old pews and furnishings just wouldn’t do. So, they bought new pews, altar table, pulpit, chancel chairs, the whole kit and kaboodle: $14,000 worth. I know that’s how much they spent, because they told me – several times.

Some folks thought it was a lovely gift. It was obvious to me that it wasn’t a gift at all. It was a leash, which they occasionally yanked to keep the church in line. It was therefore no surprise that a few years later one of the family told me in a private meeting, “Someday you’ll be gone, along with all the people you’ve brought in here, and I’ll go back to running this place like I always have.”

True story. Still makes me shiver, just remembering it.

Whose church was it? Well, it was supposed to be Christ’s church. And for a while it was. During that time attendance tripled and we baptized scores of souls. That growth only made sense, inasmuch as Jesus told us that He would, in fact, build His church. His church, but not ours.

What’s the bottom line? Simply this: if it’s “our church” rather than Christ’s church, it may not really be a church at all. We may call it a charitable club, or a humanitarian organization; but if it’s ours, we mustn’t call it a church. To be a church, it must belong to Jesus.

THANK GOD FOR HIS MERCY!

Hurricane Katrina and its aftermath have revealed some of the best and worst of humanity.

In the blaming and finger-pointing about responses to the disaster, we have seen evidence of two basic questions that dictate the way much of our culture operates. As Russ Kreuter posted a few weeks ago on his blog, question number one is, "How can I get what I deserve?" Number two is the corollary of number one: "Who can I blame when I don't get what I deserve?"

These two questions have come to dominate western society. Our culture asserts that the top priorities for our existence are taking care of ourselves, being certain that all our own needs are met, and securing all our rights.

I've got news for you: our culture is wrong.

The fact is, we exist for the glory of God. Nothing more. Nothing less. Nothing else.

Sometimes that means we're happy. Sometimes it means we're not so happy. But always it means that God is the center of the universe. You and I are not.

In other words, it's not about you and me.

Who is "it" about, then?

It's about God.

Happiness and fulfillment, those blessings we long for, are actually the by-product of being in an intimate relationship with God. If you pursue happiness as its own goal, you'll never find it. If you chase fulfillment apart from God, your efforts will leave you dry and empty, and probably bitter in the end.

That's why all the talk about "what we deserve" is so dangerous.

When you get down to it, what DO we deserve? From God, that is?

Before you answer, remember why God created us. We are made in His image, the bible says in Genesis 1:26-28. That means we are meant to reflect Him to the rest of creation, to each other, and even back to Him. No other beings in the universe bear that glorious imprint of God.

And what have we done with that glorious imprint? We have turned it inward upon ourselves. Rather than being caught up with God's glory, we have become consumed with ourselves. In every situation, though we were created to focus on God, our theme song has turned from "To God Be the Glory!" into "I Did It My Way!"

In view of such self-absorption, what we really deserve is this: a life of misery followed by eternity separated from God. Anything other than that - any joy, any fulfillment, any goodness and light - is evidence of the mercy of God.

By His mercy, God does much more than "let us off the hook" or "look the other way" about our selfish rebellion. His mercy involves true justice; and in His system of justice, mercy is tied to Jesus' death on the cross. It was there that He took upon Himself the rightful punishment our sinful rebellion requires.

In other words, God's mercy means we DON'T get what we deserve!

And that, my brothers and sisters, is good news. Indeed.