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Week 6 Sunday

Week 6 Sunday

Untangling Our Lives

Matthew 5:9-15, 23-26; Romans 12:18

Yesterday we said we must confess any wrongs to our brother or sister or forgive any wrongs done to us. That cuts deep.

For instance, suppose we have been dishonest. No matter what it does to us or to our positions, we must confess it and restore it. I know a Christian minister who laid down four hundred and fifty rupees on the table—the weight that had lain on his soul for twenty years and caused his barrenness. Hard—but an open door.

Take resentment. Whether you have wronged your brother as shown in Matthew 5:23-24 (in coming to the altar you remember that someone has something against you) or in Matthew 18:15 (someone has sinned against you); in either case you are to go and be reconciled. Whether sinned against or sinning, the Christian is under obligations to take the initiative in settling the dispute.

But you say, “I can’t forgive.” Then may I say it very quietly, but very solemnly: You can never, never be forgiven. “But if you don’t forgive others, neither will your Father forgive your sins” (Matt. 6:15). Do you not remember that in the Lord’s Prayer we pray, “Forgive us of our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us”? So if you do not forgive, you ask not to be forgiven. In refusing forgiveness to others you have broken down the bridge over which you yourself must pass, namely, forgiveness.

As I sit in this ashram in India I am reminded of one of our group, a government official, who harbored resentment against a subordinate. A wrong had been done, and the resentment was deep. It was not easy to confess that resentment to a subordinate, not in India where rank counts for much. But it was done. Release was found, and now that life is radiant and spiritually contagious. You can do the same. By God’s grace, you will, won’t you?

O Christ, you who did hang on the cross, tortured in every nerve, yet did pray for your enemies, “Lord, forgive them,” help me this day, now, to forgive those who have wronged me in a lesser way. In your name. Amen.

Week 6 Monday

Still Untangling Our Lives

Matthew 18:23-35

Yesterday we were in the midst of getting rid of resentments. We must go to the last root.

You say, “Well, I’ll forgive, but I cannot forget.” You don’t really mean that, do you? See how it looks as you pray that prayer again, “Lord, forgive me as I forgive others: I forgive that other person, but I won’t forget it. You forgive me in the same way: Forgive me, but don’t forget my sins; and when I do something wrong bring the whole thing up again.” God cannot and does not forgive that way. God blots it out of the book of remembrance. So must you.

But again you say: “Well, I’ll forgive, but I’ll have nothing more to do with that person.” Now pray that prayer again, “Lord, forgive me as I forgive others: I forgive that person, but from henceforth I’ll have nothing to do with him. You forgive me in the same way: forgive me, but have nothing more to do with me. I’ll get along without you.” You see its absurdity, don’t you?

Don’t try to forget it, don’t try to smooth it over, and don’t drive it into the subconscious. Get it up and out. A village woman begged the doctor for a plaster to put over an abscess. The doctor said she could have no plaster, for that would heal it over and drive the poison in; it must be lanced. The woman begged for her plaster, pleading that the knife would hurt. When the doctor refused, she went away and in a few days the poison had spread through her whole system and killed her. Don’t ask for the plaster of a halfway measure. Anger and resentment are literally poison. The doctors say so. A child dropped dead on its mother’s breast, poisoned by the anger it drank in with its mother’s milk. Resentment is physical, mental, and spiritual poison. Get it out!

O you who did forgive those who spat in your face, help me now to open my heart to the healing of your forgiveness, and help me to give it as you give it to me. Amen.

Week 6 Tuesday

Still Further Untangling Our Lives

Mark 6:17-23

It is not enough to hate our sin or even to pray against it; we must surrender it. I say it, for the temptation will come for us to give up the sins we do not mind in lieu of the master-sin. For there is usually a master-sin—a key log in the jam—and unless that is pulled out there is no release.

Take the case of Herod. He was probably earnest in his quest after a new life; he was fascinated by the good. But John, one day, put his finger on the master-sin in Herod’s life: “It’s against the law for you to marry your brother’s wife!” (Mark 6:18). Herod turned pale. A life struggle was on. The outcome? The RSV says, “And when he heard him, he was much perplexed; and he heard him gladly” (v. 20). Herod “heard him gladly,” but he did not give up Herodias. He was willing to give up this thing, that thing, the other thing, but not the woman. That sin was the key log in the jam. Herod was willing to have many another log pulled out. But not this one. There was no release.

The little daughter of a missionary went into a guest’s room, took some candy, and told her first lie. The brokenhearted mother put her on her lap and told her what it all meant. The little girl wept bitterly and seemed penitent, so the mother said: “I am glad you are penitent. Now take the candy out of your mouth; throw it away to show you are penitent.” The little girl looked at her mother through her tears, clamped her teeth shut tight, and said, “No.” She hated the sin, she wept over it, she did everything except one thing—give it up!

O Christ, you drive me into a corner. I would escape but you will not let me. Nor do I really want to, for I know if I should escape, I should escape from life. And I want to live. Then take, oh take these things from my heart that keep me from you and from full life. Amen.

Week 6 Wednesday

In Which I Make the Surrender

Matthew 13:44-46; Acts 2:37-42

I have now come to the place in my quest for victorious living where I see that I cannot go on until I make the great decision. I must break down every barrier that stands between me and God; and I must do it withholding no part of the price. But I see I must go further. Not only must I give up every barrier; I must give up myself. I need somebody to master me.

I know that something or other will master me. In the shrine of my heart, I am bound to bend the knee to something. I may bow before myself and take orders from myself, so that self is my ruler. Or I may let sex-passion or money have the final say. Or I may bow before the fear of society and let it dominate me. Or—and this seems my best alternative—I can let Christ master me. I have the choice as to who shall have the final say in my life. I deliberately make the decision: Christ shall have me. There is nothing that is weighed out or measured, nothing that the eye can see; but heart has been given to Heart, will has been given to Will, life has been given to Life. It is done.

As I walked up the aisle of the cathedral in Copenhagen to see the wonderful statue, Bertel Thorvaldsen’s Christ, I was almost overcome with awe as I saw the figure with the soft light upon it dominating the whole cathedral. But as I walked along a Danish friend whispered: “You will not be able to see his face unless you kneel at his feet.” It was true, for he was standing with outstretched arms looking at those at his feet. So I knelt at his feet and, lo, his face was looking into mine.

You cannot really see Christ until you bend the knee to him, until you surrender to him. Those who stand far off, surveying him, never really see his face. So bend the knee. Be conquered by him.

O Christ, at last my heart has said the word. I hold within my trembling palm this will of mine. It is not much, but when you have that you have my all. And I am glad. Amen.

Week 6 Thursday

Thronging or Touching?

Matthew 7:21; Mark 5:24-34

As Jesus was going along, the multitudes thronged him. A woman in deep need came timidly through the crowd and touched his garment. “Who touched me?” asked Jesus as he felt the power go forth. “The multitudes throng you, so why do you ask, ‘Who touched me?’ ” asked his disciples. “But somebody touched me,” said Jesus (see Mark 5:24-32).

There is a difference between thronging Jesus and touching Jesus. Those who throng Jesus get little; those who touch Jesus get everything. Never did the thought of the world so throng Jesus as now. There is more interest in him than at any time in human history. For other ways of life are breaking down, and we turn wistfully to him. This is true in East and West. And yet I have the feeling that it is more of a thronging of him than a touching of him. Inspiration? Yes, but not life.

Sunday after Sunday the multitudes go to church and listen. Their thoughts throng Jesus. But how many of the thronging multitudes really touch him—set up a connection with him and live by him? How many touch him so that they go away not merely better, but well?

Some go through our Sunday schools and churches from childhood to old age as mere throngers. My very first convert, my grandmother, did just that, until at eighty-two years of age she really touched him. Oh, the difference! She knew it, and so did we.

Yesterday you said you would surrender to him. Good, nothing better. But now that you have surrendered to him, touch him: for forgiveness, for power over temptation, over fears, over anxieties, over everything that stands in the way of victorious living. As he threw his life open then, so that anyone who had need might touch him, provided they touched in faith; so now, his life is open. Take what you need. Cease thronging him—touch him.

O Christ, as you pass by, I cease my tentative attitudes, I move up from those who throng to those who boldly touch, and I do it now. By the touch of faith I receive into my inmost being your healing and your health. Amen.

Week 6 Friday

What Does Faith Really Mean?

Matthew 9:21-29; Mark 6:5-6; Hebrews 11:l

Yesterday we talked about touching Christ by faith. What do we really mean by faith?

In the story from yesterday, the woman’s faith had a touch of the superstitious in it, for she thought that virtue resided in his garments, and that by a touch she would be made whole. Jesus corrected that and said, “Daughter, your faith has healed you; go in peace” (Mark 5:34). What did he mean by faith?

Certainly, faith is not an intellectual assent to a fixed creed. I do not decry creeds, for anyone who thinks has to have something which he believes, that is, a creed. Even so, our creeds are never final, for they are our present conceptions of the truth, which is forever beyond us. Our creeds must therefore be open to correction as fuller truth dawns. But a person may have an intellectual belief in everything in the creed of the churches and not have faith.

Faith is an adventure of the spirit, a going out of the whole inner life in response to something we believe to be supremely worthwhile. It is wagering the life and not merely nodding the head. It is not discussion; it is decision. It is launching out on the highest hypothesis I know with my life. I don’t believe in a thing unless I act on it. I don’t believe in Christ unless I am prepared to wager all to follow him. That is faith.

Jesus forged an amazing instrument when he made faith the condition; for faith is trust in another, and yet it is an adventure and an attitude of our own. It therefore develops self-reliance and Other-reliance at one and the same time. If it were mere passivity, it would not develop self-reliance; if it were mere activity, it would not develop Other-reliance. It is both activity and receptivity. “According to your faith be it done to you” (Matt. 9:29)—you do it, and he does it. You are not stifled, and he is Savior.

O amazing Christ, as you save us from ourselves you save our selves. You ask faith, and that very faith makes us well, and makes us. We fling away ourselves to follow you, and we find you and ourselves. We thank you. Amen.

Week 6 Saturday

Must I Understand All Before I Follow?

Mark 3:1-6; Luke 17:11-19

Yesterday we said that faith is an adventure. Very little faith is enough to start on, for as we act, it grows. The ten with skin diseases had the word of Christ to show themselves to the priests (see Luke 17:11-19). They had that and their disease. Then that word grew until it possessed them. But they started with very little.

Don’t wait to follow Christ until you understand all about him.

None of us really understand electricity. Lord Kelvin, the foremost physicist of his day, declared, “If I were asked what electricity is, actually is, I should have to confess I know nothing about it.” But while I do not know all about electricity, I am not going to sit in the dark until I do. I know two things about it: I know I need light, and electricity supplies that need. That is enough to begin on. I don’t know all about digestion—how food turns into blood and bone and tissue, but I’m not going to sit and starve until I do. There are a thousand and one things I don’t understand about Christ, but I know this: When I expose my soul to him in trust and obedience, he meets my deepest need. That is enough, at least to begin on.

Jesus asked the man with the withered hand to stretch it forth; the one thing the man couldn’t do. He must have looked at Jesus with helpless astonishment at such a demand; and yet, he responded with the little grain of faith he had, and threw his will in the direction of raising that arm. And lo, in the very process of obedience, the strength came. His arm was well! (See Mark 3:1-6.)

As you launch out to follow Christ, you will think you are stepping out into a void, but that void will turn into rock beneath your feet. You step out, and he steps in—into your battles, your temptations, your tasks—and then you begin life on the cooperative plan. Faith seals the bond.

O Christ, I do not see all, but I see you. Let that suffice. I will take the first steps. I will supply the willingness. You will have to supply the power. Amen.