The Surrendered Self
E. Stanley Jones, well-known Christian missionary to India, tells of a situation where the fellow members of his ashram helped him in a problem regarding his spiritual reputation. It seems that for a number of years, Jones had supported a prominent man financially. And when the time came that he could no longer support him, the man turned on Jones and attacked him in the public press. So E. Stanley Jones sat down and wrote a letter of reply of a few sentences, the kind of reply in which you don’t give your opponent a leg to stand on. As he put it, “the kind of reply you are proud of the first five minutes, the second five minutes you’re not so certain, and the third five minutes you know you’re wrong.” But before he mailed this letter, he sent this reply to the people of the ashram to get their opinion of it. They sent it back with three words written on the margin: “Not sufficiently redemptive.” As Jones read those words, he was devastated. He knew that he was winning the argument, but losing his man. He knew immediately that the “Christian is not in the business of winning arguments, but of winning people.” So he tore up the letter and said, “Lord, you’ll have to take care of my reputation.” A few weeks later, he received a letter of apology from the man who had turned on him.
When the self is unsurrendered, it tends to be touchy, easily provoked, unable to bear insults. When the self is surrendered to Christ and the love of Jesus fills and cleanses the self, then we can bear all things, endure all things, and men and women are impacted by our lives.
Surrender to Christ
Why do people resist surrendering themselves to Christ? For many, the reason they give is that they don’t really trust God to handle their lives to their suiting. A young lady stood talking to an evangelist on the subject of consecration, of giving herself wholly to God. She said, “I dare not give myself wholly to the Lord, for fear He will send me out to China as a missionary.” The evangelist said, “If some cold, snowy morning a little bird should come, half-frozen, pecking at your winder, and you would let you take it in and feed it, thereby putting itself entirely in your power, what would you do? Would you grip it in your hand and crush it? Or would you give it shelter, warmth, food, and care?” A new light came into the girl’s eyes. She said, “Oh, now I see. I can trust God.” Two years later she again met the evangelist and recalled to him the incident. She told of how she had finally abandoned herself to God—and then her face lit up with a smile and said, “And do you know where God is going to let me serve Him?” And there was now a twinkle in her eye–”In China!”
The Sacrificial Life
When Dawson Trotman passed away, he probably left a legacy of discipleship on this earth that will never be matched except perhaps in the life of Jesus Christ Himself. I’ve become a real student of Dawson Trotman and believe wholeheartedly in the methods of discipleship that he taught and emulated throughout his days. He died in Schroon Lake, New York. He died of all things in the midst of an area that he was expert in—he drowned. He was an expert swimmer. The last few moments he had in the water he lifted one girl out of the water and then submerged and was not found again until the dragnet found him a few hours later. A man named Larsen was on that boat when Trotman died, and he said, “The entire United States Navy couldn’t have saved Trotman that day—it was God’s time.” Time magazine ran an article on Trotman’s life the next week, and they put a caption beneath his name, and it read, “Always Holding Somebody Up.” In one sentence, that was Trotman’s life—investment in people, in honesty and humility, holding them up. Are you doing that? Who are you holding up? –Charles Swindoll
The High Cost of Making Peace
At the International Youth Triennium in Bloomington, Indiana, in July 1980 Professor Bruce Riggins of McCormick Theological Seminary was sharing with thirty-eight hundred attendees that he had met a very dedicated Christian working in an amazing way with the underprivileged people in London, England. He wanted to know what inspired her Christian faith and action. She shared her story of how seeing another Christian’s faith converted her: She was a Jew fleeing the German Gestapo in France during World War II. She knew she was close to being caught and she wanted to give up. She came to the home of a French Huguenot. A widow lady came to that home to say that it was time to flee to a new place. This Jewish lady said, “It’s no use, they will find me anyway. They are so close behind.” The Christian widow said, “Yes, they will find someone here, but it’s time for you to leave. Go with these people to safety—I will take your identification and wait here.”
The Jewish lady then understood the plan; the Gestapo would come and find this Christian widow and think she was the fleeing Jew.
As Professor Riggins listened to this story, the Christian lady of Jewish descent looked him in the eye and said, “I asked her why she was doing that and the widow responded, ‘It’s the least I can do; Christ has already done that and more for me.’” The widow was caught and imprisoned in the Jewish lady’s place, allowing time for her to escape. Within six months, the Christian widow was dead in the concentration camp.
This Jewish lady never forgot that. She too became a follower of Jesus Christ and lived her life serving others. She met God through the greatest love a person can give—personal self-sacrifice. In faith, an authentic Christian lives his life serving others, saying, “That’s the least I can do considering what great sacrifices Christ has already made for me.”
Unambiguous Self-denial
One single act performed with true self-denial, in renunciation of the world, is infinitely more of a revival and more of Christianity than 1000 or 10,000 or 100,000, or 1,000,000 persons, so long as they keep it ambiguous.
He Who Loses His Life Finds It
On one occasion, Sadhu Sundar Singh and a companion were traveling through a pass high in the Himalayan Mountains. At one point, they came across a body lying in the snow. Sundar Singh wished to stop and help the unfortunate man, but his companion refused, saying, “We shall lose our lives if we burden ourselves with him.”
But Sundar Singh would not think of leaving the man to die in the ice and snow. As his companion bade him farewell, Sundar Singh lifted the poor traveler onto his back. With great exertion on his part, he bore the man onward, but gradually the heat from Sundar Singh’s body began to warm up the poor frozen man, and he revived. Soon both were walking together side by side. Catching up with his former companion, they found him dead—frozen by the cold.
In the case of Sundar Singh, he was willing to lose his life on behalf of another, and in the process found it; in the case of his callous companion, he sought to save his life but lost it.