CHAPTER 20 - Good Religion Means Action

ISN’T IT strange how a person can live for forty years without really coming alive? There seems to be for some a delayed “moment of truth,” when, for the first time, life becomes sharply focused so that the important and unimportant things appear in clear perspective. That moment came for Moses when for the first time he began to give serious consideration to the needs of his fellow Israelites. He had been reared, as you know, separate and apart from his people, in the house of Pharaoh. But, as I have written before, there came a day of awakening, a day when his superior education, economic position, and privileges in Pharaoh’s court dropped away, and he found himself under a feeling of moral necessity to help his brethren. No longer could he live in comfort while they were suffering under the stinging lash of their hardhearted taskmasters. No longer could he ignore the fact that he was one of them, that he was not an Egyptian, but one of God’s chosen people. How could Egypt’s idolatry furnish food for the soul of a man acquainted with the one true God? So life began for Moses only after he had come face to face with crisis, had become encompassed also by serious difficulty. Life began for Moses when he was no longer satisfied to be a neutral observer, and instead entered the fight for human rights and justice.

And how about you and me? Isn’t it true that we don’t really begin to live until we get out of the grandstand and on the playing field? We don’t begin to live until we become participants in the battle of life. So long as we are content to sit on the sidelines, life passes us by. If experience is to become meaningful, we must get out there into the mainstream of life and do something about human needs. As Sam Walter Foss expressed it, “Let me live in my house by the side of the road and be a friend to man.”

It seems to me that to stay on the sidelines of human anguish when needs are so pressing indicates that we are either afraid of the fight, or are selfish and uncaring. Until he was about forty, Moses’ thoughts must have been centered largely on himself, his comfort, and his future. He was getting what others wanted—a good education, wealth, social standing; security. Why should he worry about his brethren dwelling out there beyond the city in tents under the scorching sun? As a pampered, privileged member of Pharaoh’s household, he was a fortunate fellow, with little to distress or worry him. He lived like royalty and could have gone on in that manner indefinitely had he chosen to do so. Then came the day when he saw one of his brethren in trouble, did something about it, and from that moment became one with his people in their drive for freedom.

Life begins when a new interest and enthusiasm for a worthy cause lays hold on you, driving you forth to serve the troubled and distressed of earth. The “ho hum” kind of existence is no longer tenable for you. Isn’t many a person bored, nervous, perhaps in ill health, chiefly because be has never found anything worthwhile for which to give his life? We all need to commit ourselves to some worthy cause. We have too many calm, sideline observers these days, who, ought to become impassioned participants in the battle of life. A needy humanity flows around them as a river surrounds an island, but they never put even one reluctant foot into the current. Life really begins when a worthy enthusiasm takes hold of you. You don’t come alive until you have been caught up by a thrilling project, a challenging work in behalf of people. You have to find something worth getting excited about before you start living. You have to get up out of the rocking chair and give, your energies in a worthy contribution to the world’s needs.

This age is not friendly toward drones; there is too much work to be done. We Americans have the peculiar idea that every able-bodied man is morally obligated to pull his fair share of the load of community responsibility, that he is morally obligated to justify his existence as a citizen. We frown on nonworking, nonproductive playboys, and abhor parasites, who, cling to the social order, taking much but giving nothing. We Christians also believe it is bad religion to be idle in face of the church’s—and the world’s—pressing needs.

What can we do to come alive? Charley Cook, of Coffeyville, Kansas, wrote, “Buy up every Christian opportunity as a merchant would buy up a scarce commodity.” No one will hear much about you until you join forces in some worthy activity. You would never have heard of Queen Esther had she not risked her life in a desperate effort to save her people. You never heard much of Stephen until he began to boldly preach the saving gospel of Christ to an unfriendly people. You never would have heard of Dorcas, except for her devoted service to those she loved. And Saul of Tarsus would never have become Paul the Apostle had he been disobedient to the heavenly vision. Gideon was unknown until he took up the challenge to liberate his people.

Sometimes we feel like shouting, “Wake up and live!” Life has a purpose for you. Find it; then put your hands to it and lift. Find your God-ordained place in his scheme of things, fill it well, and you will experience the true meaning of life. But don’t be fooled into thinking that mere activity is life. There can be “much ado about nothing.” What you do, has to count for righteousness, has to mean something to people, if it is to deliver satisfaction to you. What did you do today that will count for eternity?

Eric Finn, an English church leader, said, “A whole dimension has fallen out of life—the dimension of the eternal.” Often we are so engrossed with ourselves that eternal things are hidden from view. Thus the issues are confused, a smoke screen is laid across conscience, blinding us to a Christian sense of values. Because worth is lacking in our activities, we tend to go stale and become bored. An educator received a letter from a schoolteacher who complained that she had taught so long that all the novelty had worn off. Instead of the thrill she had once experienced in guiding the formative minds of children, her work had now fallen into dull, monotonous routine patterns. She asked, “What can I do to restore the luster?”

It isn’t hard to lose the luster. Just quit putting your best thought and heart into your work; or allow that work to deteriorate until it no longer means anything helpful to people, and the glow will depart. Following a dead routine tends toward mental paralysis. It can happen to anyone—a preacher, for example. His preaching task can deteriorate until it is a monotonous chore, just a job he has to do in order to live. Counseling worried, troubled people can become a dreary job if he loses his love for them. It isn’t hard for the ministry to drift into professionalism, and when this happens, the real vitality goes from it.

Of course, the same can be said about the practice of medicine, nursing, or statesmanship. It can happen to personal relationships, which were once warm with sympathetic, cooperative, understanding. Even friendship’s walls have to be mended once in awhile. Bring freshness into life by finding an overflowing experience in Jesus Christ. Nothing tends so quickly to motivate one to noble living in service to God and one’s brethren. Nor will anything cause you to more faithfully keep your eyes open to the needs of people around you, and it is in your concern for these needs that you really come alive in your service to God.

It was said of Sir Walter Scott that he enjoyed more in twenty-four hours than most men enjoy in a week. Work brought him happiness and contentment. He found his greatest joy in doing the worthwhile things in life, even though he faced great odds in so doing. This is a very needy world in which we live, and the chief satisfactions we will enjoy as we journey through the years will come as we exercise our prerogatives and privileges as citizens of the kingdom of God. Who can claim such citizenship and not engage in service to humanity? We serve God by serving people.

Sherman Rogers was only twenty, working in an Idaho logging camp, when one day the superintendent said, as he left for a trip to town, “Rogers, you are in charge while I am gone. Act like a real boss. If anyone refuses to take orders, fire him.” It looked like a tailor-made opportunity for Rogers to fire Tony, a glum, sour-looking Italian whom nobody liked. It was Tony’s job to keep Hill No. 2 sanded so that the giant log-loaded sleds wouldn’t run over the horses. So Rogers started toward Hill No. 2, where he found Tony heating a shovelful of sand over a small fire. It was zero and the wind was blowing.

On the way over, Rogers had met up with the owner of the operation who, sensing his mission, said, “Don’t bother Tony. I’ve been logging forty years, and Tony is the most reliable man I have ever had. He’s a grouch and he hates everybody, but he’s on the job. There hasn’t been an accident on his hill in the eight years he’s been there, although both men and horses were killed there every year before he took over.”

Instead of firing the man, Rogers said, “Good morning, Tony. I’m the boss today and I had every intention of firing you until the owner told me what a good man you are.” Then he repeated the owner’s remarks word for word. Tony was amazed. He said, “Why didn’t he tell me that eight years ago?” Tears started down his cheeks. That night in the bunkhouse, the men all spoke of Tony, and one by one verified his dependability. One said, “That guy threw enough sand today to sand a dozen hills. And he smiled all day.”

Tony insisted on taking Rogers home to supper with him to meet Marie, mother of his four children. When Tony told her in Italian what had been said she put her arms around Rogers and kissed him. Said Tony, “Marie felt like Christmas when I told her.” Later in the evening, as Marie was putting the children to bed, Rogers heard her pray, “Dear God, help my children to grow up to be good Americans. And try to help the American children to understand them.” Later she told Rogers how hard it had been for dark-skinned, poorly clothed children to bear up under the contemptuous remarks made by others, who had called them wops, dagos, and other disrespectful names.

So next day Rogers went over to the school had the four Italian children dismissed, then took half an hour to plead with the others to give Tony’s youngsters a break, treat them kindly, even as they would wish to be treated if they were in Italy. It was the beginning of a new day for the Italian children. Twelve years later Rogers saw Tony again, and by that time the big Italian was superintendent of railroad construction for one of the biggest logging operations in the West. Said Tony, beaming, “If it hadn’t been for that one minute you talked to me back in Idaho, I’d have killed somebody by this time. That “one minute” changed my whole life. And that half hour you spent at school changed the lives of all four of my youngsters; gave them the chance they needed.” Musingly he added, “I wonder why more people don’t try to understand more and hate less.”

When you think of religion, you know in your heart that it means much, much more than sitting in church enjoying the organ, the hymns, and a sermon. Wholesome religion will lead you to worship, but it will also send you out to serve and bless those whose needy lives you touch from day to day. And remember, it is “the gospel according to you” that is being read by many most of whom will never open a page of the Bible.

CHAPTER 21 - Just Across the street

I’VE BEEN pleading in these chapters for you to make the most of your life, for you to take full advantage of your every opportunity for spiritual growth and development. You must be something as you stand before God if you would become something as his servant. I want your Christian personality to develop and improve as long as you live, and this calls for awareness on your part, and devotion to that which centers itself in the will and love of God. In a little book subtitled Non-pious Meditations for Ordinary People, O. H. Austin suggests that if a hotel happened to be located just right, it might advertise thus: “come stay with us. You’ll be right across the street from everything.” You can see it, can’t you? a pretentious hotel situated just across the street from a huge, sprawling shopping center where are to be found dozens of businesses catering to the needs and pleasures of the people. How would you like to live “just across the street” from everything? You’d have the supermarket, the drugstore, the hardware merchant, the postal substation, the restaurant, bank, clothier, shoe repairman, all within the distance of a two-minute walk. How handy!

But my mind is not on shopping centers at the moment, but on you, your life, your opportunities for improvement, and what you will do about them. A great many opportunities for spiritual growth, mental development, social advancement, and service to your fellowman are right there—just across the street from you. Are you taking full advantage of them? A young man of twenty-one took a job on the maintenance staff of his state university, and continued in this work until he was retired at sixty-five. But he never enrolled in a single course! That is tragic. He was exposed to the finest of educational opportunities for nearly forty-five years, but never took the slightest advantage of them. He could have kept his job and attended night classes, but never found the ambition to do it. He lived “just across the street” from privileges which, had he taken advantage of them, could have transformed his life, added substantially to his income, and widened the bases for satisfactions, appreciations, and growth. A whole new world of books could have opened up to him. It was all there, but never appropriated. He never bothered to cross the street.

A few years ago it was my privilege to spend about a month in Japan, and what a lovely country it is…how kind and friendly, its people. It was so pleasant to sit in their homes, drinking tea, conversing through an interpreter, and often praying with them. I enjoyed Tokyo, spread out to house its increasing millions. It was a pleasure to ride the Japanese railroads, which operate so punctually. We visited Nikko, the shrine center, and were intrigued with its ancient trees and picturesque temples. At Kamakura was the enormous and world-famous statue of Buddha; and a trip to Mount Fuji was both interesting and inspiring. So I came away from Japan, grateful for the privilege of seeing its mountains and seashores, and preaching the gospel to thousands of spiritually hungry men and women. Then, back in America, I met a young serviceman who had been stationed in Japan, and it was but natural to compare notes. I said, “Didn’t you enjoy Yokahama and Tokyo? Wasn’t Nikko interesting? Did you get out to Tachikawa?” I was shocked by his reply. He said. “You know, I was in Japan a full year, but during all those months I never once left the base where I was stationed.” Just think what he missed! His weekends could have taken him to all the places I had visited, and more. He was “just across the street” from everything, but never took advantage of it. Faced with the privileges of a lifetime, either fear, or a lack of curiosity robbed him of that for which others pay thousands. I felt sorry for him.

But what is “just across the street” from you? A maid, straightening up my motel room one morning as I sat studying, said, “I was so foolish to drop out of high school after my second year. Why didn’t I listen to my parents?” Had she done so she might have gone on to college and fitted herself for a far more responsible and “well-paying job”. The opportunity was right there before her, but she never “crossed the street.” Not that enrolling in a university guarantees an education to anyone. “You can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make him drink.” You can enroll a young man in college, but you can’t make him study. He can be “just across the street” from it all, and profit by none of it. But isn’t it true that opportunities for advancement and improvement are before all of us—all the time? Yet no one will force us to “cross the street” to take advantage of them. That is up to us.

How many young people could have become skilled musicians had they been willing to practice the long, numberless hours necessary to develop their talents. “I might have been an excellent violinist,” one of them exclaims; “I had an extraordinary talent for it.” Another muses, “I always wanted to be a concert pianist.” They were “just across the street” from great musicianship, but a lack of ambition, or the inability to hold to a responsible program of progress, kept them from greatness.

Of all sad words of tongue or pen,
The saddest are these, “It might have been.”
—Whittier

The fact is, just about everything is right there across the street from most of us. You can find depravity and saintliness in large cities. “Just across the street”…the bawdy houses and the churches, gambling joints and rescue missions, furtive peddlers of dope and religious bookstores, burlesque theaters and concert halls. There are stands which sell printed smut and vulgarity and there are great public libraries where one is free to examine the accumulated wisdom of the ages. “Just across the street” one can find the lewd suggestiveness of the honky-tonks as well as the brilliant lecturer on vital themes for today.

“Stay with us. You’ll be just across the street from everything.” True! But the quality of your soul and the nature and selective quality of your own tastes will decide where and to what you make the crossing. A young Christian boy, perhaps twelve years old, said the other day, “I don’t know whether the Lord wants me to be a preacher or a missionary when I grow up.” Even at that tender age, he felt himself to be just across the street from adulthood with its mature responsibilities. Today, all of us are, as it were, standing on the curb, looking across the street. Some are humming, “Where he leads me, I will follow.” But others are afraid to venture because of where God’s guiding hand might lead. Some invest their one or two talents wisely; while others—some with five or ten talents—continue throughout life in futility and mediocrity. Are you too frightened to step off the curb to greater things? Our greatest privilege is to amount to something for God and humanity. We can grow in grace and into a knowledge of the truth. We can become better persons, day after day, as long as we live. We can delve into the Scriptures until they come alive with new beauty, radiance, and power. We can learn the secret of intercessory prayer and walk throughout the years hand in hand with the Lord.

Even for those who have been Christians for many years, there is a wonderful new world of beauty, victory, and peace “just across the street.” Don’t settle down to but maintain the status quo in your life. Too many of us are satisfied to be average Christians, but the real delight comes when we seek to become exceptional servants of God. The “average” standard isn’t high enough. Average Christians lack power and influence. We need some saints in the church. If we are content with an average status, we will drift and soon be succumbing to the worldly spirit of the age, finding ourselves while in Rome conducting ourselves like Romans. To such persons, the best things in life and in God remain forever “just across the street.”

Here is a man who wronged his brother and will not apologize and get the matter off his conscience, so he remains “just across the street” from peace and the resolution of his difficulties. His stubborn pride keeps him from stepping off the curb. Here is a husband and father who is alienating his wife and children by his domineering ways. His whole personality and thus his relationship to people could be changed quite quickly if he would but humble himself, confess his need, clear his conscience, and thus recover his self-respect. But he will never find relief while still blaming his problems on other people, or while still glossing over his faults. And the longer he waits to face up to facts, the wider becomes the street he should cross.

How many times someone has said, “I felt called to the ministry, but didn’t want to make the sacrifice.” Or, “When I was a youngster, I always felt that some day I would be a missionary.” But the dream faded and died away. Think of the books that were planned but never written, the pictures that were dreamed but never painted, the music which inspired the heart of a potential composer but was never put down on paper. Think of the people who were always going to become exemplary, dedicated, Spirit-filled workers for God but never came to the place where they were willing to pay the price involved. Saintliness does not come merely by wishful thinking, but by dedication, prayer, love, and service to God and man.

I have wanted this book to help people who desire to clear away the debris, which may have collected in their hearts and personalities, so they could become valiant, victorious Christians. Are you, by any chance, still standing on the curb, dreaming? Don’t stand too long or your dreams, will vanish. Cross the street to the fulfillment of your desires. Quit merely talking about it, and begin doing something to make it happen. It may be that you are one who has postponed excellent plans long enough. Don’t waste any more of your precious time in procrastination. Procrastination is the thief of time; it can rob you of many a victory, and could defeat you forever. Is there a talent you have neglected, a potential you ought to develop? Step off the curb and go to work. Is there someone with whom you, and you alone, can effectively share the love of God? Go to him. Why be an ordinary or mediocre Christian when you ought to be and could be an exemplary, courageous, fearless, dedicated soldier of the cross? [ The End ]