"We tend to think of Christianity as a painless system by which we can escape the penalty of past sins and attain to heaven at least. The flaming desire to be rid of every unholy thing and to put on the likeness of Christ at any cost is not often found among us. We expect to enter the everlasting kingdom of our Father and to sit down around the table with sages, saints, and martyrs; and through the grace of God, maybe we shall, yes maybe we shall. But for the most of us it could prove at first an embarrassing experience. Ours might be the silence of the untried soldier in the presence of the battle-hardened heroes who have fought the fight and won the victory and who have the scars to prove that they were present when the battle was joined." ~A.W. Tozer
No one ever likes the new guy who shows up and thinks he knows it all or who talks and acts as if he were God's gift to all of mankind even though he is barely shaving, especially when that person is acting that way in front of people who have actually been there and done that. And yet often times isn't that what we are guilty of doing spiritually? We know the language, we know how to talk the Christian experience fluently and we are immersed in a church culture that flourishes on saying the right things at the right times. And don't get me wrong, to a certain extent you need to know the language. But every once in a while you come into contact with a saint who has been there and done that. A saint who has the scars of deep suffering, a saint who has been sifted and tested to the core and who has, as a result, an unwavering confidence and joy in the person and work of Jesus Christ. And we fall blessedly silent as no amount of talking can create that sort of authenticity.
This quote of Tozer's has kept me up at night on more than one occasion. Perhaps it is the military analogy that I resonate with, for I have been in the ready room filled with a bunch of unproven pilots who were, with ever increasing exaggeration, inflating their egos until a proven warrior quietly walked in and all false bravado ceased. So Tozer's imagery definitely strikes a cord in my soul. But the reason that this plays over and over in my head is not that I relate with the imagery, but rather that I fear this being true of me (and my generation). We are surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses (Hebrews 12:1-2) and not just from scriptures. There are 2000 years of church history, not to mention the Church around the world today, in which men and women consumed with a passion and desire for Jesus Christ have lived and breathed and fought well before laying down their sword and entering the rest of their Father. I can only imagine the stories told around the table of the Father, stories that elevate and magnify the glory and beauty of Jesus through lives lived in a way that the world found odd and foolish (1 Corinthians 1:26-30). And I find myself asking, am I running the race well or am I, along with many of my generation who profess to know Christ, in for a rather awkward silence around the table of our Father?
No one ever likes the new guy who shows up and thinks he knows it all or who talks and acts as if he were God's gift to all of mankind even though he is barely shaving, especially when that person is acting that way in front of people who have actually been there and done that. And yet often times isn't that what we are guilty of doing spiritually? We know the language, we know how to talk the Christian experience fluently and we are immersed in a church culture that flourishes on saying the right things at the right times. And don't get me wrong, to a certain extent you need to know the language. But every once in a while you come into contact with a saint who has been there and done that. A saint who has the scars of deep suffering, a saint who has been sifted and tested to the core and who has, as a result, an unwavering confidence and joy in the person and work of Jesus Christ. And we fall blessedly silent as no amount of talking can create that sort of authenticity.
This quote of Tozer's has kept me up at night on more than one occasion. Perhaps it is the military analogy that I resonate with, for I have been in the ready room filled with a bunch of unproven pilots who were, with ever increasing exaggeration, inflating their egos until a proven warrior quietly walked in and all false bravado ceased. So Tozer's imagery definitely strikes a cord in my soul. But the reason that this plays over and over in my head is not that I relate with the imagery, but rather that I fear this being true of me (and my generation). We are surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses (Hebrews 12:1-2) and not just from scriptures. There are 2000 years of church history, not to mention the Church around the world today, in which men and women consumed with a passion and desire for Jesus Christ have lived and breathed and fought well before laying down their sword and entering the rest of their Father. I can only imagine the stories told around the table of the Father, stories that elevate and magnify the glory and beauty of Jesus through lives lived in a way that the world found odd and foolish (1 Corinthians 1:26-30). And I find myself asking, am I running the race well or am I, along with many of my generation who profess to know Christ, in for a rather awkward silence around the table of our Father?
So the question becomes, what does it look like to run the race well? I have spoken about this with many people smarter than myself, and I will not pretend to be able to give you a formula for what that looks like, but I think there is a general principle that is helpful. The most popular verse regarding running the race well is probably Hebrews 12:1-2, "Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses [that is, the list of names in Hebrews 11], let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God." In a close second, Paul, in his last letter to Timothy, looks back at his life and says, "I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. Henceforth there is laid up for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, will award to me on that Day, and not only to me but also to all who have loved his appearing" (2 Tim 4:7-8). There is a common theme in both those verses, and if you grew up in Sunday school you can probably guess the answer.... it's Jesus. The race that Paul ran was a race that culminated in a love for seeing Jesus. The race that Hebrews begs us to run is a race that fixes its sights firmly on Jesus. Do we go through life looking for and doing that which gets us more of Jesus or do we chase after things of the world and try to dress them up as being spiritual? Do we, despite what random people, friends, and even family think, have a hunger and a thirst for the things of God that the world would see as foolish and silly? And do we throw off all that hinders us in our pursuit of Him? I think that too often the answers to these questions are no, or at best qualified (yes, but...). Which should be causing more of you to lose some sleep.
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