Go ahead and talk about him because he makes you doubt
Because he has denied himself the things you can't live without
Laugh at him behind his back just like the others do
Remind him of what he used to be when he comes walking through.
He's the property of Jesus
Resent him to the bone
You got something better
You got a heart of stone
– Bob Dylan
– Bob Dylan
The
Pressure Cooker
The world hates us and
we’re instructed to hate the world. Jesus even said:
"If anyone comes to Me and does not hate his father and
mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and his own life also, he
cannot be My disciple” - Luke 14:26.
“Do not love the world or the things in the
world. If anyone loves the world, the love of the Father is not in him”. -
1John 2:15
"If you were of the world, the world would love its own. Yet
because you are not of the world, but I chose you out of the world,
therefore the world hates you” - John 15:19
Of course, Jesus didn’t
mean to despise anyone, He was dramatically saying that our love for God trumps
all other relationships.
However, the opposite is
often the case. Relatives will indeed despise their family member who is sold
out for Jesus. Once a person becomes a child of God, all earthly relationships
immediately change --sometimes for the good, when their testimony touches the
heart of their kin, but sadly it is more common for loved ones to turn against
the new convert.
The Epistle of James
says, “Friendship with the world is enmity to God.” It isn’t referring to
planet earth, but to the world system that is under the power of the god of
this age: the devil. Jesus said, “If you’re not for Me, you’re against Me.” You
can’t use His name as a cuss word today and then expect Him to accept your
praise come Sunday morning.
Starting Out
New believers in the LORD Jesus Christ have been captured
by their newfound love for Him. They are so excited and optimistic; it can be
seen in their faces and their smiles. They just can’t shut up about Him. This
is especially true if they were not raised in the church and do not have much
Bible knowledge. They’re on Cloud 9, so to speak, and are just starting out on
their pilgrimage to the Celestial City. They feel invincible.
When the first fiery trial comes along, they do not see
it coming – like a bolt out of the blue. This is played out in a poignant way
in Pilgrim’s Progress when Pliable,
from Christian’s hometown of the City of Destruction, decides to go along with
him. This is the famous scene when they
both fall into the Slough of Despond. This trouble comes to a surprise to both
of them, but they respond differently.
After struggling to extricate himself from the Slough,
Pliable leaves the way in a huff saying, “Is this the happiness you have told
me of all the while? If we have such ill speed at our first setting out, what
may we expect betwixt this and our journey's end? May I get out again with my
life; you shall possess the brave country alone!”
Christian was rescued by a man named “Help.” He got to
the other side of the Slough, while Pliable turned tail for home. Along the way
more trials and tribulations confront our protagonist. About half-way through
the journey, as many others were running back to the comfort of their towns,
Christian assured himself: “I must venture. To go back is nothing but
death; to go forward is fear of death, and life-everlasting beyond it. I will
yet go forward. “
This is reminiscent of a Bible passage in the Gospel of
John. As many men who had been following the Master walked away because they
could not understand His hard sayings, He turned to Peter and asked him if he
was going to go too.
“But
Simon Peter answered Him, ‘Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of
eternal life.’” John 6:68
New converts to the faith are not always born-again
believers. They may be quite sincere about their decision to become a
Christian, but have not come into the Kingdom through the door of repentance.
They might have simply responded to an emotional message to “try Jesus.” Or,
they might have learned about the Bible growing up and see it as the “good
book” and a valuable guide during troubled times. The church is just a building
in the community where people are married and buried, some think.
Jesus’ parable of the Sower of the Seed gives the big picture.
The seed represents the Word of God that is sown into hearts. The soil is the
condition of the heart into which it is sown. The outcome of the crop depends
on the fertility of the ground. In summary, Jesus said:
"The
sower sows the word. And these are the ones by the wayside where the word is
sown. When they hear, Satan comes immediately and takes away the word that was
sown in their hearts. These likewise are the ones sown on stony ground who,
when they hear the word, immediately receive it with gladness; and they have no
root in themselves, and so endure only for a time. Afterward, when tribulation
or persecution arises for the word's sake, immediately they stumble. Now these are
the ones sown among thorns; they are the ones who hear the word, and the cares
of this world, the deceitfulness of riches, and the desires for other things
entering in choke the word, and it becomes unfruitful. But these are the ones
sown on good ground, those who hear the word, accept it, and bear fruit: some
thirtyfold, some sixty, and some a hundred." – Mark 4:14-20
This installment focuses on just one of the reasons
people backslide and do not go to the end of the journey. The thorny ground “Christians”
are just temporary ones. This is probably the most common kind of pew sitter
there is – we used to call them “carnal Christians.” And sadly, today’s most
popular mega-churches cater to them. It is said of them, “they have just tacked
Jesus onto their worldly pursuits.”
Jesus said, “He that shall endure unto the end,
the same shall be saved.” (Matt 24:13) That does not mean that they can lose their
salvation – it just means that they were not truly born-again in the first
place. To those who miss the mark and say, “Lord, Lord, did we not do many good
things in your name?” Jesus tells them, “I never knew you.”
These converts did not count the cost. They did not put self
on the altar and put Jesus on the throne of their lives. They never turned the
reins over to Him. They called their own shots. There was no major change in
their lives after their supposed conversion. They merely gave lip-service to
Jesus and found a church community center to attend where they could get an uplifting
shot in the arm every Sunday.
These words from Romans, the epistle of grace, didn’t
quite penetrate:
“For
if you live according to the flesh you will die; but if by the Spirit you put
to death the deeds of the body, you will live. For as many as are led by the
Spirit of God, these are sons of God.” – Rom. 8:13-14
No
Longer Cool
The first big surprise that awaits a new convert,
regardless of their soil, is the reaction from family and friends when they
tell them they’ve become a Christian. A
typical response from these scallywags is “You’re not a Christian. I know you.
You’re just going through a phase. You’ll get over it.” And an assortment of
other colorful metaphors spouts from their lips.
The true saint will strive with them for a while, sharing
their testimony and giving them an answer for the hope they now have in their
heart. S/he might even get through to some, although some friends like Pliable
will only go so far.
But the enemy of our souls will not delay in striking
back, using those closest to them to inflict the most damage. He will inspire the convert’s associates to remind
him/her of who they used to be. If that doesn’t work, friends will invite them
to events where they are sure to get the new believer doing the things they
used to do – drinking, carousing, doing drugs – whatever the old habit happens
to be.
The solid saint will resist these temptations. The Holy
Spirit dwelling within them will make them uncomfortable in those old familiar
haunts, and they will be forced to leave. If they slip up, they’ll repent, cry
out to God for strength, and keep on going. Scripture reading will help them on
a daily basis as they take in the manna of His Word. They know they can run to
the pages of scripture for direction. They may stumble across this one that
will really speak to them:
“Or
do you not know that the unrighteous will not inherit the kingdom of God? Do
not be deceived; neither fornicators, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor
effeminate, nor homosexuals, nor thieves, nor the covetous, nor drunkards, nor revilers,
nor swindlers, will inherit the kingdom of God. Such were some of you;
but you were washed, but you were sanctified, but you were justified in the
name of the Lord Jesus Christ and in the Spirit of our God.” – 1 Cor 6:9-11
The Old
Me
After entering the Kingdom at the ripe old age of 28, I
was in for a rude awakening. My story is not unlike so many others whose
born-again experience changed them instantly – overnight even.
I was raised in the Catholic Church, but rebelled from it
as a teenager. I was a child of the 60s, ran off from my home in Los Angeles County
to the Bay Area. I bought the whole package: free love, drugs, and rock n’roll.
I dabbled in the occult; the Ouija board was my idea of a good time. I thought
I was making contact with dead people from the other side.
I excelled in the art of lying. I could come up with a
humdinger of a story to extricate myself from a previous lie. I learned this
early in life from sneaking out of the house in the middle of the night as a
teenager. When I got caught, I had to come up with a darn good story. When caught
in a lie, I just lied a little better to get out of it.
My youth was cut short when I came home pregnant and my
hippy boyfriend became scarce. I had only been away for a few months and was only
17. I had to go to a home for unwed mothers to give birth to my baby girl and
gave her up for adoption as a newborn.
I blocked that emotional upheaval, working all week to
live it up on the weekends. I could out-cuss any sailor and was a bit of a
clown – I collected dirty jokes and loved to one-up the next guy in my delivery
of them. Cocaine became my recreational drug of choice in my 20s. I never did
like the taste of alcohol, so I’d take a vial of coke to the nightclubs I
frequented with my girlfriends. Dancing and partying was all I lived for, but
deep down inside it was not a very satisfying lifestyle. I needed something to
fill the spiritual void inside.
At that time, my friends would have thought me to be the
least likely person to ever “turn to religion,” as they would put it. But it
wasn’t religion that I was looking for. In fact, I wasn’t even thinking that
deeply; I was on auto-pilot.
Everything changed when I received a book in the mail
from the Book of the Month Club. I was a voracious reader – but only of
fiction. In fact, horror stories and murder mysteries were my favorite genre. Real
life stuff just wasn’t my bag. The book
I received was called Michelle Remembers. It arrived right after
reading a novel called The Entity
that had left me feeling creeped out. It was a novel supposedly based on a true
story about a woman living in L.A. who was being haunted nightly by a demon
known as an Incubus. But Michelle Remembers was different because it was
not a novel, but an eye-witness account of a young woman who was recalling,
under hypnosis, her horrifying experience of being used by Satanists in their
diabolical ceremonies when she was just a child.
What really got to me were the photos of her in the book.
The shrink administering the hypnosis testified that whenever his client would
recall those awful memories, big ugly red welts would appear upon her skin in
the shape of a pitchfork or a devil’s tail – reminiscent of the character seen
on the Red Devil Fireworks booths that would spring up everywhere before the
Fourth of July.
In hindsight, it was not a very credible testimony –
especially since the memories only came out of hypnotic induction. But that
didn’t matter to me at the time. Both books convinced me of the existence of the
devil – and I reasoned that there had to be a God because if there wasn’t then
we’re all in deep you-know-what.
I fell back on my religious upbringing and ran out to the
local Catholic bookstore and bought myself a St. Joseph’s Bible. I began
reading the Psalms – they really spoke to me. I steered away from the gospels
and epistles because I thought I knew what was in them from my years of growing
up and them being read at the Catholic mass.
I had a practice of attending midnight mass every
Christmas-Eve – a tradition I kept up with even in my unbelief. Baby Jesus in
the manger had always appealed to me that time of year. But that Christmas of
1980, I did something different. I visited Calvary Chapel Costa Mesa instead. I
had been somewhat familiar with It since a couple of my friends had attended at
one time years before when they met in a tent. I was totally blown away by
Pastor Chuck Smith’s message about Christmas. He talked about the pagan origin
of December 25th and the pagan feast of Saturnalia. His candor about
that was refreshing. I had never heard a sermon that admitted to any possible
flaw in the system. No Catholic priest would dream of being that forthright!
I left without responding to the altar call. I held onto
the bulletin though and put it in my Catholic Bible in my nightstand next to my
bed. I didn’t know it then, but it would sure come in handy some seven months
later at 3 am on the Fourth of July, 1981.
From
Death to Life
That New Year’s Eve was rather depressing. I spent it
alone due to an absent boyfriend with whom I was having an affair who kept
promising he would leave his wife for me. He just couldn’t seem to get up the
nerve. So he would string me along, living with me during the week and going
home to her on the weekend. Looking back it must have been a fine arrangement
for…let’s call him ‘Frank.’
Frank was one of my supervisors at work. At some point in
time during this tainted relationship, I got pregnant. He insisted that I have
an abortion but I didn’t want to. He prevailed and talked me into it – he even
dropped me off at a Planned Parenthood clinic.
I was mad at him, but totally oblivious to what I had
just done to my unborn baby. The personnel at the death center convinced me that
I was merely wiping away a little tissue and there was as yet no form to speak
of. They called it a “potential baby.”
I saw myself as the victim, and would look to the book of
Psalms for comfort as I lay in bed at night feeling sorry for myself. I would
run to “the book” every time some horrible self-inflicted disaster would befall
me. I believed in God and thought He was on my side.
On the night before the Independence Day holiday, I was
again resentful for being left alone. So I accepted a date with one of Frank’s
fellow supervisors and went out drinking, dancing, and snorting coke with him.
I only accepted the date, hoping to get Frank jealous. The whole thing
backfired – the guy got weird on me after he got high and violently forced
himself on me. I felt lucky to get home alive that night.
So at 2 a.m., after soaking in a hot tub, I reached for
the Bible for comfort. As I read it, I didn’t feel comfort, I felt dirty,
unclean. I blamed myself for the events of the night, knowing I brought that
upon myself for trying to get back at Frank. As that thought came to me,
another thought hit me between the eyes – my relationship with Frank was a sin.
That hadn’t occurred to me before. Where’d that come from?
From that realization, my entire life of sin began
streaming across my mind – the lies, the partying, the drugs, the hurts I
caused others, the adultery, the fornication, and on and on. I sat there alone
crying and sobbing over all the awful things I had done. During all those years
of debauchery I had never once stopped to think about the guilt or fault that
was upon me. But now, the guilt was overwhelming me.
I desperately wanted to tell God I was sorry and beg for
His forgiveness. I wanted to pray, but I just didn’t know how to. I had
memorized prayers as a Catholic – the Our Father, the Hail Mary, and the Glory
Be – but none of those prayers of rote could help me now.
I found that old Calvary Chapel bulletin, almost by
miracle, there was a 24-hour prayer line phone number in it. I grabbed the
phone and called. A man answered and the first words out of my mouth were, “I
don’t know how to pray. I want to pray, but I don’t know how. Can you help me?”
There was silence on the other end for what seemed like
an eternal minute. I think the guy was stunned and was gathering his thoughts –
or else I had woken him up – it was 3 in the morning. He led me to the 6th
chapter of John’s gospel and told me that the so-called Lord’s prayer was not
given to recite, but given to instruct us how to petition God in our own words.
He ministered to me, explaining to me the free gift of salvation and led me in
a sinner’s prayer. I thanked him, and as I hung up the phone, I felt the weight
of all the guilt lift right off me. It was tangible! And I immediately just
knew how to pray. I had a heart-to-heart talk with Jesus and my words flowed
with praise and thanksgiving and I promised Him I would always follow Him and
learn to please Him. My entire life had just made a 180 degree turn. The Bible
I had been reading on and off for seven months, now came alive. One revelation
after another jumped off the pages as I read it with new understanding. It
changed from an interesting book to the living words of Almighty God, my
Savior!
Commencement
of Hostilities
The first person I called the next day was my mom. At
first she was delighted to hear that I had found Jesus. She thought that meant
I would return to the Catholic Church. When she realized that was not the case,
she expressed her disappointment. My dad, who was a convert to Catholicism,
wanted to discuss our differences, but those discussions usually turned into
heated arguments. Others in the family began to resent me because I was
disturbing the peace when we would all come together for family gatherings.
Things weren’t much better in my circle of friends. We
used to get together at Gilbert’s house every weekend to play board games and
laugh and act stupid together. My best friend Liz was a psychology major and
she was the Risk champion. The next time we all got together after my
born-again experience, I was shocked at Gilbert’s hostility to me. The first
words out of his mouth were, “so you’ve taken sides with the enemy.” I said, “What
are you talking about?” He said, “Christianity is against me; the Bible teaches
that I’m going to hell for being a homosexual.” I told him I didn’t know that.
He kept shouting one threatening question after another in my face, but I
didn’t know the Bible well enough to answer them. Then he stormed out of the
living room and walked back in and tossed me a book. “Read this,” he said. “You
can take it home.” The book was called, “Contradictions in the Bible.” I put it
down and said, “Gilbert, I’m not going to read this. I just started to read the
Bible and I know that it is true. This book will only confuse me.” At that, I
was asked to leave and not come back.
Liz tried to be more open to me and we continued to visit
each other. We loved getting together just to play Scrabble and feast on
munchies over at her house. She did not want me talking about it – just acted
as if she was not offended, but just not interested. Liz loved dancing and
nightclubbing. She was quite the lush. I would no longer go with her to clubs,
so our friendship sorta soured. The last time I saw her, I got her to go with
me to hear the late Walter Martin speak at Melodyland in Anaheim. He spoke
against secular humanism and she was most offended. She told me that she was a
humanist and he was wrong in criticizing it. I told her that maybe he meant
something different by the term – to which she rolled her eyes and almost
screamed at me, “No he did not.” That ended our friendship – and it had been a
close one.
Of course, one of my first calls to action after
committing my life to Christ was to tell Frank to stop calling me. I told him
how Jesus had saved me and I was going to follow Him and I was shocked at his
harsh reaction. I so much wanted him to receive the Gospel, and I gave it to
him in the best way I knew how. His response? “Don’t drink the Kool-Aid.” The
tragedy in Jonestown was still fresh in the public eye. Frank wasn’t the only
person to make that wisecrack to me.
What followed at work was similar. I won’t go into the
long story here. But it didn’t take long for me to wind up at the Unemployment
office. Coming to Jesus had cost me my family relations, my friends, my job,
and then my condo – out of work, I could no longer make the mortgage payments.
I was forced to sell my house. I was literally stripped of every area of my
life and had to start over from scratch. I did not know a single Christian
nearby that I could run to for solace.
The
struggle to hold onto my newfound faith was only just beginning. I had lost it
all – but I hung on to Jesus for dear life!
