A Nail for Remembering
One time at the City Temple in London, there was in the congregation a restauratuer named Emil Mettler, who was a close friend of Albert Schweitzer and a kind of agent for Schweitzer in Britain. Mettler would never allow a Christian worker to pay for a meal in his restaurant, but once he did happen to open his cash register in the presence of a secretary of the London Missionary Society. The secretary was astonished to see among the bills and coins a six-inch nail. What was it doing there? Mettler explained, “I keep this nail with my money to remind me of the price that Christ paid for my salvation and of what I owe Him in return.”
Thought for Reformation Sunday
Martin Luther had a dream in which he stood on the day of judgment before God Himself—and Satan was there to accuse him. When Satan opened his books full of accusations, he pointed to transgression after transgression of which Luther was guilty. As the proceedings went on, Luther’s heart sunk in despair. Then he remembered that cross of Christ—and turning upon Satan, he said, “There is one entry which you have not made, Satan.”
The Devil retorted, “What is that?”
And Luther answered, “It is this—the blood of Jesus Christ, His Son, cleanseth us from all sins.”
The Release I Long Forcefully
In God’s Smuggler, Brother Andrew tells in the first couple of chapters the story of his early life—one section of which dealt with his hell-for-leather days in the Dutch army in Indonesia. While serving in that area, fighting against Sukarno in the late 1940s, he bought a young ape, a gibbon, who took to him, and Andy treated him as a pet in the barracks. He hadn’t had the gibbon for many weeks before he noticed that when he touched it in some areas around the waist, it seemed to hurt him. So he examined the gibbon more closely and found a raised welt that went around his waist. He carefully laid the animal down on his bed and pulled back the matted hair from that welt until he could see what was causing the problem. He discovered that evidently when the gibbon had been a baby, someone had tied a piece of wire around his middle and had never taken it off. As the monkey grew larger, the wire became embedded in his flesh. Obviously, it must have caused him a great deal of discomfort. So that evening Andrew began the operation, taking his razor and shaving off all the monkey’s hair in a three-inch-wide swath around his middle. While the other boys in the barracks looked on, he city ever so gently into the tender flesh until he exposed the wire. The gibbon lay there with the most amazing patience. Even when he obviously was hurting him, the gibbon looked up with eyes that seemed to say, “I understand,” until at long last he was able to get down to the wire, cut it, and pull it away. Instantly, as soon as the operation was over, the gibbon jumped up, did a cartwheel, danced around his shoulders, and pulled Andy’s hair in joyful glee to the delight of all the boys in the barracks. “After that, my gibbon and I were inseparable. I think I identified with him as strongly as he with me. I think I saw in the wire that had bound him a kind of parallel to the chain of guilt still so tight around myself—and in his release, the thing I too longed for.”
The Good Hunter
During hard times in the darkness of winter in an Alaskan Eskimo village, a young man of unequaled courage might go out into the bitter cold in search of food for his people. Armed with only a pointed stick and his compassion for his starving village, he would wander, anticipating the attack of a polar bear. Having no natural fear of humans, a polar bear will stalk and eat a man. In the attack the Eskimo hunter would wave his hands and spear to anger the bear and make him rise up on his hind legs to over ten feet in height; and then, with the spear braced to his foot, the hunter would aim for the heart as the weight of the bear came down upon his spear. With heart pierced, the bear might live long enough to maim or kill this noble hunter. Loving family and friends would then follow his tracks out of the village and find food for their survival and evidence of profound courage.
Early missionaries proclaimed to attentive ears that Jesus Christ is the “Good Hunter” Who lays down His life for the world.
Though I Drive through the Valley
In was 9172 and we had a Plymouth station wagon and a Chevrolet Malibu. Whenever I would ask my parents to help me drive, they each had a reply. Father would say, “Go ask your mother,” and Mother would say, “Let’s go.” For months she would sit beside me as I practiced on the back roads of South Jersey. Sometimes she would drive and tell me what she was doing and other times she would talk me through a particular operation of the car. I remember the first time I drove at night. We were returning from visiting my mom’s brother and had to get on the Walt Whitman Bridge from an access ramp. It was nine o’clock at night, pitch dark, pouring rain. As I sat waiting to enter the six-lane highway, with all the headlights, taillights, rain, and noise, I was thoroughly confused. All my training, but mostly youthful pride, kept me from asking my mother to take the wheel.
I can remember pressing the accelerator, hearing the motor respond, hearing someone yell, “YEEEEHAHHHH,” and suddenly finding ourselves following along in traffic with everyone else over the bridge.
Certain things remain a mystery, like how we got onto the lane as confused as I was, and which of us screamed, but certain things are not a mystery, like how reassuring it is to have your teacher go through things with you. Our temptation and our trials are not foreign to Jesus, nor are they ours alone to bear. The Teacher is with us. –Fred Grosse
Christ and Buddha—The Great Difference
Frederick Buechner, in his book Now and Then, has a section on his comparison of the teachings of Buddha and of Jesus Christ, a topic he wrestled with when he was teaching at Philips Exeter Academy:
“Finally, lest students of comparative religion be tempted to believe that to compare them is to discover that at their hearts all religions are finally one and that it thus makes little difference which one you choose, you have only to place side by side Buddha and Christ themselves.
“Buddha sits enthroned beneath the Bo tree in the lotus position. His lips are faintly parted in the smile of one who has passed beyond every power in earth or heaven to touch him. ‘He who loves fifty has fifty woes, he who loves ten has ten woes, he who love none has no woes,’ he has said. His eyes are closed.
“Christ, on the other hand, stands in the garden of Gethsemane, angular, beleaguered. His face is lost in shadows so that you can’t even see his lips, and before all the powers of earth or heaven He is powerless. ‘This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you,’ He has said. His eyes are also closed.
“The difference seems to me this. The suffering Buddha’s eyes close out is the suffering of the world that Christ’s eyes close in and hallow. It is an extraordinary difference, and even in a bare classroom in Exeter, New Hampshire, I think it was as apparent to everyone as it was to me that before you’re done, you have to make a crucial and extraordinary choice.”
How Do You Respond?
As you travel along I-10 in Louisiana, there is a large billboard which catches your eye. It stands high above the city just as you start up the Mississippi River bridge. On it is a picture of Jesus Christ hanging on the cross of Calvary, head bowed. The caption underneath says in bold letters, “It’s Your Move!”
What a powerful thought. God has already taken the initiative in salvation. Christ died for you. Now—it’s your move!
Perfection of Humanity
Christ’s perfect life wsa the perfect manifestation of human life as God intended it.
Only One Plan
There is a legend that recounts the return of Jesus to glory after His time on earth. Even in heaven He bore the marks of His earthly pilgrimage with its cruel cross and shameful death. The angel Gabriel approached Him and said, “Master, You must have suffered terribly for men down there.” He replied that He did. Gabriel, continued: “And do they know and appreciate how much You loved them and what You did for them?” Jesus replied, “Oh, no! Not yet! Right now only a handful of people in Palestine know.” But Gabriel was perplexed. He asked, “Then what have You done to let everyone know about Your love for them?” Jesus said, “I’ve asked Peter, James, John, and a few more friends to tell others about Me. Those who are told will tell others, in turn about Me. And My story will be spread to the farthest reaches of the globe. Ultimately, all of mankind will have heard about My life and what I have done.”
Gabriel frowned and looked rather skeptical. He well knew what poor stuff men were made of. He said, “Yes, but what if Peter and James and John grow weary? What if the people who come after them forget? What if way down in the twentieth-century people just don’t tell others about You? Haven’t You made any other plans?” And Jesus answered, “I haven’t made any other plan. I’m counting on them.” Twenty centuries later, He still has no other plan. He’s counting on you and me. High on God’s “To Do” list is the evangelization of the world. His early disciples adopted His priorities and devoted themselves to reaching the world. Christ counted on them, and they delivered. Have we done as well?
Let Him Play
In a large stone cathedral in Europe, there was a large, magnificent pipe organ. It was a Saturday afternoon, and the sexton was making one final check of the choir and organ loft high in the balcony at the back of the church. He was startled to hear footsteps echoing up the stone stairway, as he thought the doors were all locked and no one was around. He turned to see a man in slightly tattered traveling clothes coming toward him. “Excuse me, sir,” the stranger said. “I have come from quite a distance to see the great organ in this cathedral. Would you mind opening the console so that I might get a closer look at it?” The custodian at first refused, but the stranger seemed so eager and insistent that he finally gave in. “May I sit on the bench?” That request of the stranger was met with absolute refusal by the cathedral custodian. “What if the organist came in and found you sitting there? I would probably lose my job!” But again the stranger was so persistent that the sexton gave in. “But only for a moment,” he added.
The custodian noticed that the stranger seemed to very much at home on the organ bench, so he was not completely surprised when he was asked by the stranger to be allowed to play the organ. “No! Definitely not!” he said. “No one is allowed to play it except the cathedral organist.” The man’s face fell, and his deep disappointment was obvious. He reminded the custodian how far he had come and assured him that no damage would be done. Finally, the sexton relented and told the stranger he could play the instrument, but only a few notes and then he would have to leave. Overjoyed, the stranger pulled out some stops and began to play. Suddenly the cathedral was filled with the most beautiful music the custodian had ever heard in all his years at the cathedral. The music seemed to transport him heavenward.
In what seemed all too short a time, the dowdy stranger stopped playing and slid off the organ bench. And started down the stairway. “Wait!” cried the custodian. “That was the most beautiful music I have ever heard in the cathedral. Who are you?” The stranger turned for just a moment as he replied, “Mendelssohn.” The man was none other than Felix Mendelssohn, one of the greatest organists and composers of the nineteenth century!
The cathedral sexton was alone now in that great stone edifice, the beautiful organ music still ringing in his ears. “Just think,” he said softly, “I almost kept the master from playing his music in my cathedral!”
Each one of us has the opportunity to have a personal relationship with the Master of the universe, Jesus Christ. Let’s not keep Him from “playing His music” and being Master of our lives!
The One Who Intercedes
There was a soldier in the Union army, a young man who had lost his older brother and father in the war. He went to Washington, DC to see President Lincoln to ask for an exemption from military service so he could go back and help his sister and mother with the spring planting on the farm. When he arrived in Washington, after having received a furlough from the military to go and plead his case, he went to the White House, approached the doors, and asked to see the president. However, he was told, “You can’t see the president! Don’t you know there’s a war on? The president’s a very busy man. Now go away, son! Get back out there and fight the Rebs like you’re supposed to.” So he left, very disheartened, and was sitting on a little park bench not far from the White House when a little boy came up to him. The lad said, “Soldier, you look unhappy. What’s wrong?” The soldier looked at this young boy and began to spill his heart out to this young lad about his situation, about his father and brother having died in the war, and how he was the only male left in the family and was needed desperately back at the farm for the spring planting.
The little boy took the soldier by the hand and led him around to the back of the White House. They went through the back door, past the guards, past all the generals and the high ranking government officials until they got to the president’s office itself. The little boy didn’t even knock on the door but just opened it and walked in. There was President Lincoln with his secretary of state, looking over battle plans on the desk. President Lincoln looked up and said, “What can I do for you, Todd?”
And Todd said, “Daddy, this soldier needs to talk to you.” And right then and there the soldier had a chance to plead his case to President Lincoln, and he was exempted from military service due to the hardship he was under.
Such is the case with our ascended Lord. We have access to the Father through the Son. It is the Son Who brings us to the Father’s throne and says, “Daddy, here is someone who wants to talk to You.”
The Christ of Bethlehem
Some tell us that Jesus’ earthly life was not very important. They say He wrote no books, composed no songs, drew no pictures, carved no statues, amassed no fortune, commanded no army, ruled no nation. And yet . . . He Who never wrote a line has been made the hero of unnumbered volumes. He Who never wrote a song has put music into the hearts of nameless multitudes. He Who never established an institution is the foundation of the Church that bears His name. He Who refused the kingdoms of this world has become Lord of millions. Yes, He Whose shameful death scarcely produced a ripple on the pool of history in His day has become a mighty current in the vast ocean of the centuries since He died. –Mack Stokes
The Real Christ
The people who hanged Christ never accused Him of being a bore; on the contrary, they thought Him too dynamic to be safe. It has been left for later generations to muffle up that shattering personality and surround Him with the atmosphere of tedium. We have very efficiently pared the claws of the Lion of Judah, certified Him “meek and mild,” and recommended Him as a fitting household pet for pale curates and pious old ladies. To those who knew Him, however, He in no way suggested a milk-and-water person; they objected to Him as a dangerous firebrand. True, He was tender to the unfortunate, patient with honest inquirers, and humble before heaven; but He insulted respectable clergymen by calling them hypocrites; He referred to King Herod as “that fox”; He went to parties in disreputable company and was looked upon as a “gluttonous man and a winebibber, a friend of publicans and sinners”; He insulted indignant tradesmen and threw them and their belongings out of the Temple, . . . He showed no proper deference for wealth or social position; when confronted with neat dialectical traps, He displayed a paradoxical humor that affronted serious-minded people, and He retorted by asking disagreeable questions that could not be answered by rule of thumb . . . But He had a “daily beauty in His life that made us ugly,” and officialdom felt that the established order of things would be more secure without Him. So they did away with God in the name of peace and quietness. –Dorothy Sayers
The Mark of Forgiveness
In my second year of seminary, I worked as a dorm supervisor for the New Jersey School for the Deaf. On Sunday a worship service was held for the children remaining for the weekend. I remember the first time I saw the sign for “Jesus”–the right hand used the little finger to draw the letter J, then ending in the palm of the other hand to signify Jesus’ nail imprint. The very name of Jesus tells us of Jesus’ suffering and forgiveness of our sins!
A Dubious Birthplace
Beneath the Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem, a silver star marks the alleged precise spot where Christ was born. A stone slab nearby is supposed to mark the exact site of the manger wherein He lay. The Holy Land is littered with such shrines, divided up like African territories in the old colonialist days, between the different sects and denominations—the Greeks, the Armenians, the Copts, the Latins, etc.–and often a cause of rancor among them. Most of the shrines are doubtless fraudulent, some in dubious taste, and none to my liking. Yet one may note, as the visitors come and go, ranging from the devout to the inanely curious, that almost every face somehow lights up a little. Christ’s presence makes itself felt even in this dubious birthplace. –Malcolm Muggeridge
God’s Way
When God wants an important thing done in this world, or a wrong righted, He goes about it in a very singular way. He does not release His thunderbolts or stir up His earthquake. He simply has a tiny, helpless baby born, perhaps in an obscure home, perhaps of a very humble mother. Then He puts the idea or purpose into the mother’s heart, she puts it into the baby’s mind and then—God waits. –Edward T. Sullivan
Dealing with the Dilemma
According to an old legend, a man became lost in his travels and wandered into a bed of quicksand. Confucius saw the man’s predicament and said, “It is evident that men should stay out of places such as this.” Next, Buddha observed the situation and said, “Let that man’s plight be a lesson to the rest of the world.” Then Muhammad came by and said to the sinking man, “Alas, it is the will of God.” Finally, Jesus appeared. “Take My hand, brother,” He said, “and I will save you.”
To See the Beauty Above
Norman A. McMurry tells about a place in the city of Rome which has a great high dome. Inside that dome, there is a painting known as the Dawn by Guido Reni. In order that visitors may see this masterpiece, a table has been placed directly beneath the dome, and on the table a mirror. When one looks into the mirror, he sees the majestic painting far above. Is that not what the Incarnation is all about? Jesus of Nazareth is the “mirror-image” of God.
A Point of Contact
Bob Weber, past president of Kiwanis International, told this story. He had spoken to a club in a small town and was spending the night with a farmer out on the outskirts of the community. He had just relaxed on the front porch when a newsboy delivered the evening paper. The boy noted the sign Puppies for Sale. The boy got off his bike and said to the farmer, “How much do you want for the pups, mister?” “Twenty-five dollars, son.” The boy’s face dropped. “Well, sir, could I at least see them anyway?” The farmer whistled, and in a moment the mother dog came bounding around the corner of the house, tagged by four of the cute puppies, wagging their tails and yipping happily. At last, another pup came straggling around the house, dragging one hind leg. “What’s the matter with that puppy, mister?” the boy asked. “Well, sons, that puppy is crippled. We took her to the vet and the doctor took an X ray. The pup doesn’t have a hip joint and that leg will never be right.” To the amazement of both men, the boy dropped the bike, reached for his collection bag and took out a fifty-cent piece. “Please, mister,” the boy pleaded, “I want to buy that pup. I’ll pay you fifty cents every week until the twenty-five dollars is paid. Honest I will, mister.” The farmer replied, “But son, you don’t seem to understand. That pup will never, never be able to run or jump. That pup is going to be crippled forever, Why in the world would you want such a useless pup as that?”
The boy paused for a moment, then reached down and pulled up his pant leg, exposing that all too familiar iron brace and leather knee-strap holding a poor twisted leg. The boy answered, “Mister, that pup is going to need someone who understands him to help him in life!”
Cripple and disfigured by sin, the risen, living Christ has given up hope. He understands us—our temptations, our discouragements, and even our thoughts concerning death. By His resurrection we have help in this life and hope for the life to come.
Light Revealing Light
It would little avail to ask how we know. That would be like asking how we know that Beethoven’s “Hymn to Joy” is joyous. If a man were to say, “It is not joyous to me,” he would not condemn the music; he would tell only his morbidness. There is no logic to establish an axiom, for an axiom is the basis of all logic; and the soul of Jesus has axiomatic truth. Jesus is light, and there is no proof for light except light itself. –George Buttrick