I just wrote an entire discourse on revival. Where it went, no one knows. I hit that "publsh" button and the good folks in the cyberworld told me it had been published. But it was gone. Vanished. As we say in South America, se hizo humo. Up in smoke.
So I will try again. This subject is important enough I cannot let the cyber-demons eat it.
What do you know about revival? Have you ever experienced a true revival? What about a spiritual awakening among the lost; have you experienced that? I heard a man preach Sunday. He is hungry for revival. He wants to see his church revived. And he was honest enough to say he had never seen a revival.
His message made me think. It was a good one, to be sure. The long arm of the Holy Spirit stirred among us. Some were able to ignore Him; but not all of us. God spoke.
Why do we not hear about revival in America these days? Has God closed up heaven and told us that it's too late? I don't think so! I actually believe the problem is on our end. We have not because we ask not. When we do ask, we ask for the wrong reasons. I think those words from James 4 are applicable to revival.
There are many reasons we do not see a revival today. One of them, perhaps one of the greatest reasons, lies with the preachers. We preachers are too soft, too complacent. We love our comfort. We love our frills, our fringe benefits. We even believe we deserve them, all the while preaching against prosperity theology.
I listen to preacher talk among themselves. I have heard the coarse language. I have heard the off-color comments. I hear them laugh at things that should bring tears.
I read the surveys. I know that preachers are far more in love with the internet than they are the Bible. One man told me that his preacher bragged about not studying the Bible. He did not prepare sermons because he feared he would forget them before he ever got to the pulpit. Preacher, fall in love with God's word. If you cannot, then quit preaching. Quit starving God's sheep.
I know that preachers have lost their zeal for prayer. The demands of a modern-day church suck out the zeal like a hungry leech. Yet we have not because we ask not. We must rediscover the joy of sacrificial prayer.
Our cups do not run over. Norman Grubb wrote of that on page 19 of his booklet, "Continuous Revival:" "But here comes the point of it in this message of revival. We are to recognize that'cups running over' is the NORMAL daily experience of the believer walking with Jesus, not the abnormal or occasional, but the normal,continuous experience."
If America is to experience revival, my prayer is that America's preachers get in on it.
Revive us, Oh Lord!
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
Farewell to a Friend
I am not somewhere in South America today. I am somewhere in South Mississippi. I am here with my wife's family. It's a sad time. It's also a joyful time. I guess that means it's a bittersweet time. What time is it? It's time to say goodbye to my wife's dad. He was my friend before he was my father-in-law. He was my patient mentor when I was a know-it-all preacher boy. That was over twenty-eight years ago.
As I look back at the past twenty-eight years of preaching ministry, when I see where I began, I see the fingerprints of a good man. My father-in-law/friend/mentor shows up in some of my preaching style today. To be sure, I have long since developed my own style; but this man showed me how to read a passage of Scripture for all it is worth. He gave me tools that have never grown dull, never worn out, never become useless.
Soon--very soon--we will say "farewell" to this good man. But it is really more like a "see you later." My father-in-law was sure and satisfied with his relationship to Jesus Christ. I am sure of mine. So one day we will see one another again.
His last words he intended to share with his church were these: I am saved, I am sure, and I am satisfied. Is there anything more fitting to ask the readers today? Are you saved? Are you sure you are saved? Are you satisfied? Is Jesus enough?
To God be the glory for a man who did what he could with what he had. He buried nothing in the ground; it was all used for the glory of God.
Kevin,
Somewhere in South Mississippi
As I look back at the past twenty-eight years of preaching ministry, when I see where I began, I see the fingerprints of a good man. My father-in-law/friend/mentor shows up in some of my preaching style today. To be sure, I have long since developed my own style; but this man showed me how to read a passage of Scripture for all it is worth. He gave me tools that have never grown dull, never worn out, never become useless.
Soon--very soon--we will say "farewell" to this good man. But it is really more like a "see you later." My father-in-law was sure and satisfied with his relationship to Jesus Christ. I am sure of mine. So one day we will see one another again.
His last words he intended to share with his church were these: I am saved, I am sure, and I am satisfied. Is there anything more fitting to ask the readers today? Are you saved? Are you sure you are saved? Are you satisfied? Is Jesus enough?
To God be the glory for a man who did what he could with what he had. He buried nothing in the ground; it was all used for the glory of God.
Kevin,
Somewhere in South Mississippi
Saturday, May 13, 2006
Are You a Junk Food Junkie?
I think I sat here two full minutes, staring at a blank text box; I felt I needed to write something, but what? After all, it probably does more good for my mental processes than it does for your eternal value. Still, time ticks by and the text box is not filling up with anything important. It must be all that pizza I ate this week.
Yes, I can blame it on pizza. My wife is somewhere in North America, taking care of our daughter, son-in-law, and their new baby. I am somewhere in South America, whiling away my Saturday after three consecutive days of pizza. Yes, pizza. After all, I have a 15-year-old daughter who needed to eat, too. Otherwise, it may have been peanut butter imported by the last volunteers who came to see us.
But how could something that tastes so good be so bad for your thinking process? Or your motivation? Answer: GREASE. It's not the cheese; it's the grease! It wasn't the tomato sauce; it was the grease! All that pepperoni was loaded with the stuff. And this pizza was loaded with pepperoni. The truth is, it's junk.
I purged my guilty conscience yesterday when I went out to buy groceries to feed my daughter and me. I stopped and ate a delicious salad. It had stuff in it from every major food group. That made me feel better. It felt so good I didn't mind stopping by the cinnamon roll place and picking up some of those.
That wasn't my tongue you saw in my cheek; it was a piece of a cinnamon roll!
I had to stop and admit it. I love junk food. Junk food producers love me, too. Mark Lowry sang a sarcastic song one time: "I can eat it all!" Sing it, Mark!
Let me get somewhat serious for a minute. Before any nutrition fanatics go for my juglar, you should know my blood will glob out; it won't flow. Seriously, I have a point to this.
What we put in our bodies has its impact, for good or for bad. That is equally true about what we put into our souls. Your soul is the focal point for your mind, will, and emotions. If you feed the mind with meaningless trivia and nothing more, then you deprive yourself of greater things. Our kids once imbibed on television; now it's the computer. There is little difference, in my opinion, as to the ultimate outcome of mindless entertainment. It starves your spirit and feeds junk into your mind.
It is in your soul that the thing called "flesh" resides. "Flesh" is what makes sin so fun. "Flesh" is what makes us brag when we blast another person (believer or not). "Flesh" is what makes us brag about what we did before we knew Jesus; or what we do now. "Flesh" is what makes us pleased with our spiritual accomplishments.
And the Flesh craves "food." Not that kind! Though it could be physical food. Some people I know are fat because they crave to an excess the food God intended to be both sustaining and pleasurable. But the food the Flesh wants is that food that feeds its passion and ways. So Flesh tells your mind what it wants; your mind tells your emotions; your will then becomes the key. To feed the Flesh, or not to feed the Flesh.
Sometimes we feed the Flesh, feel guilty, and then purge our consciences by some so-called spiritual thing. We pray. We read our Bibles. We attend church services. We help someone. We think about God for ten minutes. And then we go back to our feeding frenzy.
The Holy Spirit has a really good plan regarding the Flesh. Kill it! Deny yourself, take up your cross DAILY, and follow Jesus. If you die to the Flesh, your perspective begins to change. Paul said he died daily.
So what do you plan to feed on this week? Will it be true spiritual nourishment? Or will it be junk food?
Kevin,
Somewhere in South America
Yes, I can blame it on pizza. My wife is somewhere in North America, taking care of our daughter, son-in-law, and their new baby. I am somewhere in South America, whiling away my Saturday after three consecutive days of pizza. Yes, pizza. After all, I have a 15-year-old daughter who needed to eat, too. Otherwise, it may have been peanut butter imported by the last volunteers who came to see us.
But how could something that tastes so good be so bad for your thinking process? Or your motivation? Answer: GREASE. It's not the cheese; it's the grease! It wasn't the tomato sauce; it was the grease! All that pepperoni was loaded with the stuff. And this pizza was loaded with pepperoni. The truth is, it's junk.
I purged my guilty conscience yesterday when I went out to buy groceries to feed my daughter and me. I stopped and ate a delicious salad. It had stuff in it from every major food group. That made me feel better. It felt so good I didn't mind stopping by the cinnamon roll place and picking up some of those.
That wasn't my tongue you saw in my cheek; it was a piece of a cinnamon roll!
I had to stop and admit it. I love junk food. Junk food producers love me, too. Mark Lowry sang a sarcastic song one time: "I can eat it all!" Sing it, Mark!
Let me get somewhat serious for a minute. Before any nutrition fanatics go for my juglar, you should know my blood will glob out; it won't flow. Seriously, I have a point to this.
What we put in our bodies has its impact, for good or for bad. That is equally true about what we put into our souls. Your soul is the focal point for your mind, will, and emotions. If you feed the mind with meaningless trivia and nothing more, then you deprive yourself of greater things. Our kids once imbibed on television; now it's the computer. There is little difference, in my opinion, as to the ultimate outcome of mindless entertainment. It starves your spirit and feeds junk into your mind.
It is in your soul that the thing called "flesh" resides. "Flesh" is what makes sin so fun. "Flesh" is what makes us brag when we blast another person (believer or not). "Flesh" is what makes us brag about what we did before we knew Jesus; or what we do now. "Flesh" is what makes us pleased with our spiritual accomplishments.
And the Flesh craves "food." Not that kind! Though it could be physical food. Some people I know are fat because they crave to an excess the food God intended to be both sustaining and pleasurable. But the food the Flesh wants is that food that feeds its passion and ways. So Flesh tells your mind what it wants; your mind tells your emotions; your will then becomes the key. To feed the Flesh, or not to feed the Flesh.
Sometimes we feed the Flesh, feel guilty, and then purge our consciences by some so-called spiritual thing. We pray. We read our Bibles. We attend church services. We help someone. We think about God for ten minutes. And then we go back to our feeding frenzy.
The Holy Spirit has a really good plan regarding the Flesh. Kill it! Deny yourself, take up your cross DAILY, and follow Jesus. If you die to the Flesh, your perspective begins to change. Paul said he died daily.
So what do you plan to feed on this week? Will it be true spiritual nourishment? Or will it be junk food?
Kevin,
Somewhere in South America
Thursday, May 04, 2006
There's a Happy Dance Goin' On!
My firstborn had her firstborn today. The delivery process actually began a few days ago. The really tough part began last night. The part that fulfills Genesis 3:16 began this morning. Michelle's pain was greatly multiplied. But God's hand was firm and the beauty of a new birth unfolded for Michelle and her husband Kory. Sometime close to 11:15, Grace Elizabeth greeted the world with a cry.
It was a joyful experience for all who were there (I am not there; I am somewhere in South America). Tears flowed freely, and not just down Grace's cheeks. The multiplied sorrow and pain soon gave way to overwhelming joy and pride. The Psalmist captured the moment, though speaking of something else: Weeping will endure for a night; but joy comes in the morning. - Ps. 30:5 Someone just wrote me and said, "There's a happy dance going on here." Yes, joy comes in the morning.
Being a part that experience is unspeakable. Holding a newborn is delightful. Gaither's words were dead on:
How sweet to hold a newborn baby, and feel the love and joy [she] gives.
As joyous a thing as a birth, especially that of the firstborn, there is greater joy in the new birth, that birth that only comes by grace through faith in Christ Jesus and his finished work. When one sinner repents, there is joy in the presence of the angels. When one sinner repents, heaven takes notice. When a man or woman is born into the kingdom of God, the Godhead shines with joy. Angels thunder praises to the Lamb who was slain, and who is worthy. Saints in heaven fall on their faces.
Why is it, do you suppose, that we so often receive the news of the new birth with barely a yawn? Why--HOW--can we receive such news with stoic looks, when in heaven the King of kings is having a party over it? Could it be that we have become the elder brother of Luke 15?
I look forward to listening to my daughter and son-in-law as they describe all the new things that both they and Grace will discover in the years to come. I look forward to the joy that will bring. But I want to have greater joy over those newly born into the kingdom of God.
Kevin, Somewhere in South America
It was a joyful experience for all who were there (I am not there; I am somewhere in South America). Tears flowed freely, and not just down Grace's cheeks. The multiplied sorrow and pain soon gave way to overwhelming joy and pride. The Psalmist captured the moment, though speaking of something else: Weeping will endure for a night; but joy comes in the morning. - Ps. 30:5 Someone just wrote me and said, "There's a happy dance going on here." Yes, joy comes in the morning.
Being a part that experience is unspeakable. Holding a newborn is delightful. Gaither's words were dead on:
How sweet to hold a newborn baby, and feel the love and joy [she] gives.
As joyous a thing as a birth, especially that of the firstborn, there is greater joy in the new birth, that birth that only comes by grace through faith in Christ Jesus and his finished work. When one sinner repents, there is joy in the presence of the angels. When one sinner repents, heaven takes notice. When a man or woman is born into the kingdom of God, the Godhead shines with joy. Angels thunder praises to the Lamb who was slain, and who is worthy. Saints in heaven fall on their faces.
Why is it, do you suppose, that we so often receive the news of the new birth with barely a yawn? Why--HOW--can we receive such news with stoic looks, when in heaven the King of kings is having a party over it? Could it be that we have become the elder brother of Luke 15?
I look forward to listening to my daughter and son-in-law as they describe all the new things that both they and Grace will discover in the years to come. I look forward to the joy that will bring. But I want to have greater joy over those newly born into the kingdom of God.
Kevin, Somewhere in South America
Friday, April 14, 2006
Peace, Y'all!
It's Easter weekend. Well, it's Good Friday where I am. When much of the world thinks of Easter, images of peace and messages of world peace innundate the media. Perhaps only Christmas rivals Easter on its messages of "peace on earth."
It would be wonderful to speak about peace. I would love to shout, "Peace on earth, and to goodwill to men!" Or, "Peace!" to the SBC. "Peace to South America!"
But that Passover weekend around 30 AD was anything but peaceful. That passover was marred by at least three crucifixions. And one of them was God. In one of the Gaithers' songs, there is a line that said something like, "The earth shakes with the force of the conflict, and the sun refuses to shine." (My apologies to the songwriters if I missed that.) Do you see that word? Conflict. Does that sound like peace?
God was fighting for the souls of mankind. There was a conflict going on. His only begotten son was hanging on a Roman death tree. His hands and feet were fixed to the wood with spikes. His body was unrecognizable. If we had been there, up close, we could have smelled the horrible odors rising from his ravaged body. And would have heard, not just seen, the blood as it puddled down, slowly, steadily, drop by drop, around the ground. Does that sound like peace?
Why did the sun refuse to shine? Did God turn out the lights? Or were the demons of hell so thick in that place that their presence darkened the whole earth? Or had that spot of ground become hell? After all, Jesus said that unbelievers will be cast into "outer darkness." And the Scriptures say that God made "him who knew no sin to be sin for us; that we might be made the righteousness of God in him." (2 Cor. 5:21) Does that sound like peace?
In six short hours, it was over. Jesus was dead. The demons croaked with glee. The priests and the rabble they had aroused were not so certain; after all, an earthquake had raped their temple. Their most holy place was desecrated by light from without. The ark, if there was one, was now exposed for all to see. I can envision those poor Levites scurrying about, trying to close the doors so that no one could see within their sanctuary. The priests were so uncertain they asked for Pilate to grant a guard for the tomb where Jesus was buried. It was an armed guard. Their weapons were not for show. Should anyone approach, death would have been likely. Does that sound like peace?
Again, it's a stretch of my imagination, but I can envision the procession from the cross to the grave. Men and women walked, carefully, mournfully, carrying the body of Jesus. Maybe there were others there, warning the pallbearers that they were ceremonially unclean and no longer eligible to partake of the fast-approaching Passover. Waltzing, buzzing about, jumping for joy, and cackling were those foul, stench-covered demons. They drooled with delight. They strutted like proud turkeys. Not far away were the legions of righteous angels.
Waiting.
Watching.
Silent.
Joseph and the others laid the body in the niche inside the tomb. They came out and rolled the stone into its groove in front of the opening. As the stone groaned while the men pushed it into place, those forces of evil wheezed for joy. The stone finally rolled into place, fully covering the opening. What light there was, was extinguished. The son of God was dead and buried. Does that sound like peace?
Time passed by slowly. One day melted into another. Who really wanted to taste the roasted lamb this year? There would be no celebration for Jesus' friends and family. The bitter herbs the disciples had tasted on Preparation Night were more bitter than ever. They laid heavy on their stomachs. Every belch was a bitter one. There were no more tears to shed. All that was left was the empty heaviness that accompanies death and separation. All that enshrouded their hearts was confusion. They walked the streets, perhaps kicking at a lone pebble here and there. "Peace I give you," said Jesus. Peace? What peace? "My peace," said Jesus. Is this what your peace feels like? I am not sure I want this!
The Sabbath gave way to Sunday. Early in the morning the brave ladies went to the tomb. We know what they found. The stone was rolled away. Before too long, their darkest doubts gave way to the light of a sudden realization. Jesus was alive! No devils were there now! Stalwart angels, illuminating the glory of God, stood erect and regally. Soldiers lay in heap, sleeping a holy sleep placed on them by the brush of angels' wings. King Jesus rose from the grave!
It would be wonderful to speak about peace. I would love to shout, "Peace on earth, and to goodwill to men!" Or, "Peace!" to the SBC. "Peace to South America!"
But that Passover weekend around 30 AD was anything but peaceful. That passover was marred by at least three crucifixions. And one of them was God. In one of the Gaithers' songs, there is a line that said something like, "The earth shakes with the force of the conflict, and the sun refuses to shine." (My apologies to the songwriters if I missed that.) Do you see that word? Conflict. Does that sound like peace?
God was fighting for the souls of mankind. There was a conflict going on. His only begotten son was hanging on a Roman death tree. His hands and feet were fixed to the wood with spikes. His body was unrecognizable. If we had been there, up close, we could have smelled the horrible odors rising from his ravaged body. And would have heard, not just seen, the blood as it puddled down, slowly, steadily, drop by drop, around the ground. Does that sound like peace?
See from His head, His hands, His feet
Sorrow and love flow mingled down;
Did e're such love and sorrow meet,
Or thorns compose so rich a crown?
Why did the sun refuse to shine? Did God turn out the lights? Or were the demons of hell so thick in that place that their presence darkened the whole earth? Or had that spot of ground become hell? After all, Jesus said that unbelievers will be cast into "outer darkness." And the Scriptures say that God made "him who knew no sin to be sin for us; that we might be made the righteousness of God in him." (2 Cor. 5:21) Does that sound like peace?
In six short hours, it was over. Jesus was dead. The demons croaked with glee. The priests and the rabble they had aroused were not so certain; after all, an earthquake had raped their temple. Their most holy place was desecrated by light from without. The ark, if there was one, was now exposed for all to see. I can envision those poor Levites scurrying about, trying to close the doors so that no one could see within their sanctuary. The priests were so uncertain they asked for Pilate to grant a guard for the tomb where Jesus was buried. It was an armed guard. Their weapons were not for show. Should anyone approach, death would have been likely. Does that sound like peace?
Again, it's a stretch of my imagination, but I can envision the procession from the cross to the grave. Men and women walked, carefully, mournfully, carrying the body of Jesus. Maybe there were others there, warning the pallbearers that they were ceremonially unclean and no longer eligible to partake of the fast-approaching Passover. Waltzing, buzzing about, jumping for joy, and cackling were those foul, stench-covered demons. They drooled with delight. They strutted like proud turkeys. Not far away were the legions of righteous angels.
Waiting.
Watching.
Silent.
Joseph and the others laid the body in the niche inside the tomb. They came out and rolled the stone into its groove in front of the opening. As the stone groaned while the men pushed it into place, those forces of evil wheezed for joy. The stone finally rolled into place, fully covering the opening. What light there was, was extinguished. The son of God was dead and buried. Does that sound like peace?
Low in the grave he lay, Jesus my Savior.
Time passed by slowly. One day melted into another. Who really wanted to taste the roasted lamb this year? There would be no celebration for Jesus' friends and family. The bitter herbs the disciples had tasted on Preparation Night were more bitter than ever. They laid heavy on their stomachs. Every belch was a bitter one. There were no more tears to shed. All that was left was the empty heaviness that accompanies death and separation. All that enshrouded their hearts was confusion. They walked the streets, perhaps kicking at a lone pebble here and there. "Peace I give you," said Jesus. Peace? What peace? "My peace," said Jesus. Is this what your peace feels like? I am not sure I want this!
The Sabbath gave way to Sunday. Early in the morning the brave ladies went to the tomb. We know what they found. The stone was rolled away. Before too long, their darkest doubts gave way to the light of a sudden realization. Jesus was alive! No devils were there now! Stalwart angels, illuminating the glory of God, stood erect and regally. Soldiers lay in heap, sleeping a holy sleep placed on them by the brush of angels' wings. King Jesus rose from the grave!
He arose! He arose! Hallelujah! Christ arose!
It's the evening now. Sunday has come and gone. At least nine apostles (Judas is dead, hanging by a rope from a tree,and cursed is everyone who hangs from a tree, Peter is out, still processing his encounter with Jesus, and Thomas is just absent) are still huddled in the upper room. Jesus appears out of "nowhere" and calls out, "Peace, y'all!" Once the shock and awe passed of seeing someone alive whose death they had witnessed only a few days earlier, that peace began to grip their souls. Not like it would on the Day of Pentecost, when the Holy Spirit came to indwell them. But it was there. And it was real. And it is real. Because it is his peace.
More than 2,000 years later, I want to stand on my rooftop. I want to shout to my lost neighbors, to the two men I watched sipping their suds at a local gas station, to the Jehovah's Witnesses who doggedly pound on my door, to all of this city somewhere in South America, to the SBC, to its leadership, to the IMB, to its leadership, to you, "PEACE, Y'ALL!"
Monday, April 03, 2006
What Kind of Churches Do We Plant?
Let me begin by stating a few salient facts. First, I am a Baptist. I am not ashamed of that. I am not ashamed that God saved me through the teaching/preaching ministry of a Baptist church. I am not ashamed to have been called to preach under the preaching of a Baptist preacher. He was a "Landmarkist." The particular Baptist denomination where I was at that time had statements that were so exclusive in their nature that I could not continue there.
Second, I am a Baptist missionary. I am not ashamed that God called me to missions through the ministry of a Baptist missionary and her husband. I am not ashamed to be a Southern Baptist missionary. I take joy in that.
Third, I have been a church planter and continue to participate in church planting, though my role is much larger. It's one of those things that cannot be equaled in other walks of life. The joy of seeing souls come to faith in Christ is incomparable. The satisfaction of seeing a church formed is unspeakable.
So that leads me to an important question: when a Southern Baptist missionary sets out to plant a church, what does he have in mind? What is the "final product" that any SBC M wants to see?
Logically, we want to plant Baptist churches. I happen to live in a megacity somewhere in South America. I happen to be able to plant Baptist churches. Those churches suffer mild persecution (mostly emotional), but they can paint a sign with the words "Baptist" on it and their non-evangelical neighbors will understand that it "ain't mainstream."
Now I don't plant Southern Baptist churches. I don't live in the United States; the SBC is not here, except incarnationally through its missionaries. My national brethren would not appreciate me planting an SBC church when they are attempting to plant churches that affiliate with their own convention.
That is as simple as it gets. But I want to complicate the matter a bit. First, the least complicated thing is the following scenario: SBC missionary V lives and works among a people group in a closed country. They are antagonistic to evangelism, church planting, and open Christianity. They cannot post their name on a sign. What do missionary V and his team do? They plant baptistic churches; that means the church is baptistic in doctrine, but not in name. To openly identify it as "baptist" could jeopardize the entire church planting effort.
SBC missionary Z, on the other hand, works among a people group that is ever-so-slightly tolerant of evangelicals. But the people group has no concept of denominational ties. Their fledgling work has been what we could describe as "independent." Missionary Z has the opportunity to work with and train some national church planters, none of whom are Baptist. What kind of church does Missionary Z then plant? Does he impose his origin (Baptist) upon the group, or does he teach and promote baptistic doctrine?
This is my humble opinion: SBC missionary Z should plant New Testament churches, which I believe will be baptistic in nature. He can later return and shore up the doctrine and reveal his Baptist origin in that subsequent teaching. But if this is a New Testament church, and we hope it is, that church will still have the responsibility to choose whether or not to be identified as a Baptist church. Missionary Z cannot force that upon them.
For that matter, neither can I require that the churches I help plant choose the name of Baptist. It is a matter of local church autonomy. The chances are that they will choose the name of Baptist, because we wield much influence. But I cannot require it. I will not require it. I will only seek to be baptistic and hope that the name "Baptist" finds its way on the sign. Anything more could be construed as paternalistic and counter-productive to the missionary enterprise.
Kevin, from Somewhere in South America
Second, I am a Baptist missionary. I am not ashamed that God called me to missions through the ministry of a Baptist missionary and her husband. I am not ashamed to be a Southern Baptist missionary. I take joy in that.
Third, I have been a church planter and continue to participate in church planting, though my role is much larger. It's one of those things that cannot be equaled in other walks of life. The joy of seeing souls come to faith in Christ is incomparable. The satisfaction of seeing a church formed is unspeakable.
So that leads me to an important question: when a Southern Baptist missionary sets out to plant a church, what does he have in mind? What is the "final product" that any SBC M wants to see?
Logically, we want to plant Baptist churches. I happen to live in a megacity somewhere in South America. I happen to be able to plant Baptist churches. Those churches suffer mild persecution (mostly emotional), but they can paint a sign with the words "Baptist" on it and their non-evangelical neighbors will understand that it "ain't mainstream."
Now I don't plant Southern Baptist churches. I don't live in the United States; the SBC is not here, except incarnationally through its missionaries. My national brethren would not appreciate me planting an SBC church when they are attempting to plant churches that affiliate with their own convention.
That is as simple as it gets. But I want to complicate the matter a bit. First, the least complicated thing is the following scenario: SBC missionary V lives and works among a people group in a closed country. They are antagonistic to evangelism, church planting, and open Christianity. They cannot post their name on a sign. What do missionary V and his team do? They plant baptistic churches; that means the church is baptistic in doctrine, but not in name. To openly identify it as "baptist" could jeopardize the entire church planting effort.
SBC missionary Z, on the other hand, works among a people group that is ever-so-slightly tolerant of evangelicals. But the people group has no concept of denominational ties. Their fledgling work has been what we could describe as "independent." Missionary Z has the opportunity to work with and train some national church planters, none of whom are Baptist. What kind of church does Missionary Z then plant? Does he impose his origin (Baptist) upon the group, or does he teach and promote baptistic doctrine?
This is my humble opinion: SBC missionary Z should plant New Testament churches, which I believe will be baptistic in nature. He can later return and shore up the doctrine and reveal his Baptist origin in that subsequent teaching. But if this is a New Testament church, and we hope it is, that church will still have the responsibility to choose whether or not to be identified as a Baptist church. Missionary Z cannot force that upon them.
For that matter, neither can I require that the churches I help plant choose the name of Baptist. It is a matter of local church autonomy. The chances are that they will choose the name of Baptist, because we wield much influence. But I cannot require it. I will not require it. I will only seek to be baptistic and hope that the name "Baptist" finds its way on the sign. Anything more could be construed as paternalistic and counter-productive to the missionary enterprise.
Kevin, from Somewhere in South America
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
The Right to Fight
Let me be clear from the outset: this is not one of those "Rodney King-like" appeals, pleading that we all just get along. This is a mosaic; we need to know when to fight and when not to fight. After all, if any of you read Wild at Heart you know that a man's gotta fight (pardon my grammar). I mean, just look at King David: 2 Samuel 11:1 says, "Then it happened in the spring, at the time when kings go out to battle, that . . . David stayed at Jerusalem." Guys, we are princes; we are made to bend a bow of bronze. (2 Sam. 22:35)
It's right to fight for the faith. That is what Jude said, "Contend earnestly for the faith." A century ago a group of men decided that needed to be done. They set forth what we now call the essentials of evangelical faith: the virgin birth, deity, and lordship of Jesus Christ; the efficacious death, burial, and resurrection of Jesus; salvation by grace, through faith in Christ alone; the innerant authority of the Bible as the word of God. Add to that the imminent return of Jesus, the person and work of the Holy Spirit in the life of the believer, the missionary mandate given to the church, the importance of personal evangelism, and the power of prayer. Those (and perhaps a few others I did not mention) are the essentials.
Oh, by the way, back then they called them "The Fundamentals of the Faith." Today we call a fundamentalist anything but right. We allowed the world to influence our use of a perfectly good word, making it pejorative. Forgive me if I do not allow the world to steal perfectly good words and destroy them. Ask God's forgiveness if you think all fundamentalists are crazed lunatics (yes, that is redundant) who only seek to steal your freedoms.
It's right to fight when that fight is spiritual warfare. Paul said we wrestle all kinds of principalities, powers, world forces, and spiritual forces in the heavenlies." - Ephesians 6
I did not learn about spiritual warfare in South America. I learned about it in south Mississippi. I learned plenty about spiritual warfare in south Mississippi. I know we say that we don't see demons behind every bush, but there were days it seemed as though there were as many demons as there were pine trees.
That only increased down here in South America. But regardless of when, where, or how many, the truth still remains that "greater is he that is within us than he that is in the world." Amen to that! Lift the sword of the Spirit and stand firm in Christ's strength!
It's right to fight those social ills that plague us. Abortion is a plague. Gender neutrality is a plague. Those so-called sexual preference rights are plagues on society.
Down here we can add to that list the rampant drinking. That bottle of alcohol is one baby we can toss out with the bath water. Europe may love its booze; you can keep it to yourself. And yes, I can quote all the Bible verses you can throw back at me; so please don't bother.
But it's not right to fight when that fight is motivated by selfish, sensual, and worldly desires. James 4 says, "What is the source of quarrels and conflicts among you? Is not the source your pleasures that wage war in your members? You lust and do not have; so you commit murder. You are envious and cannot obtain; so you fight and quarrel." Flesh fights are from the same poisonous tree as worldly wisdom.
That man who slips in front of you in the line of traffic suddenly becomes your enemy; he invaded your space. He took your place in line. That one who buys the last imported soft drink (only those living overseas will relate to this) has suddenly stolen what is "rightfully yours." After all, you wanted a soft drink. Now he took it. It doesn't matter that the can is past date. It doesn't matter that you prefer Pepsi and they only sell Coke. It only matters that someone else got it.
For those North Americans who read the above and shook their heads in dismay, just recall last Christmas. I watched the news videos of my fellow compatriots as they wrestled over dolls, action figures, and stuffed toys. I saw women claw and scratch. And I have been in church business meetings that had plenty of verbal clawing and scratching.
As I look at what is going on in the SBC today, I greatly fear that we have some King Davids who did not go out to battle. We have some princes who cannot or will not bend that bow of bronze. Now they are bored, looking for a place to vent the energy God intended for them to expend against their true enemies.
When my words and actions are detrimental and do not have the ultimate goal of edifying, instructing, protecting, encouraging, and even expanding the citizens of the kingdom of God--as well as expanding the kingdom itself, then my words and actions are wrong. My motives are wrong. My fight is not right.
I defend your right to fight. But make sure your fight is a right fight.
It's right to fight for the faith. That is what Jude said, "Contend earnestly for the faith." A century ago a group of men decided that needed to be done. They set forth what we now call the essentials of evangelical faith: the virgin birth, deity, and lordship of Jesus Christ; the efficacious death, burial, and resurrection of Jesus; salvation by grace, through faith in Christ alone; the innerant authority of the Bible as the word of God. Add to that the imminent return of Jesus, the person and work of the Holy Spirit in the life of the believer, the missionary mandate given to the church, the importance of personal evangelism, and the power of prayer. Those (and perhaps a few others I did not mention) are the essentials.
Oh, by the way, back then they called them "The Fundamentals of the Faith." Today we call a fundamentalist anything but right. We allowed the world to influence our use of a perfectly good word, making it pejorative. Forgive me if I do not allow the world to steal perfectly good words and destroy them. Ask God's forgiveness if you think all fundamentalists are crazed lunatics (yes, that is redundant) who only seek to steal your freedoms.
It's right to fight when that fight is spiritual warfare. Paul said we wrestle all kinds of principalities, powers, world forces, and spiritual forces in the heavenlies." - Ephesians 6
I did not learn about spiritual warfare in South America. I learned about it in south Mississippi. I learned plenty about spiritual warfare in south Mississippi. I know we say that we don't see demons behind every bush, but there were days it seemed as though there were as many demons as there were pine trees.
That only increased down here in South America. But regardless of when, where, or how many, the truth still remains that "greater is he that is within us than he that is in the world." Amen to that! Lift the sword of the Spirit and stand firm in Christ's strength!
It's right to fight those social ills that plague us. Abortion is a plague. Gender neutrality is a plague. Those so-called sexual preference rights are plagues on society.
Down here we can add to that list the rampant drinking. That bottle of alcohol is one baby we can toss out with the bath water. Europe may love its booze; you can keep it to yourself. And yes, I can quote all the Bible verses you can throw back at me; so please don't bother.
But it's not right to fight when that fight is motivated by selfish, sensual, and worldly desires. James 4 says, "What is the source of quarrels and conflicts among you? Is not the source your pleasures that wage war in your members? You lust and do not have; so you commit murder. You are envious and cannot obtain; so you fight and quarrel." Flesh fights are from the same poisonous tree as worldly wisdom.
That man who slips in front of you in the line of traffic suddenly becomes your enemy; he invaded your space. He took your place in line. That one who buys the last imported soft drink (only those living overseas will relate to this) has suddenly stolen what is "rightfully yours." After all, you wanted a soft drink. Now he took it. It doesn't matter that the can is past date. It doesn't matter that you prefer Pepsi and they only sell Coke. It only matters that someone else got it.
For those North Americans who read the above and shook their heads in dismay, just recall last Christmas. I watched the news videos of my fellow compatriots as they wrestled over dolls, action figures, and stuffed toys. I saw women claw and scratch. And I have been in church business meetings that had plenty of verbal clawing and scratching.
As I look at what is going on in the SBC today, I greatly fear that we have some King Davids who did not go out to battle. We have some princes who cannot or will not bend that bow of bronze. Now they are bored, looking for a place to vent the energy God intended for them to expend against their true enemies.
When my words and actions are detrimental and do not have the ultimate goal of edifying, instructing, protecting, encouraging, and even expanding the citizens of the kingdom of God--as well as expanding the kingdom itself, then my words and actions are wrong. My motives are wrong. My fight is not right.
I defend your right to fight. But make sure your fight is a right fight.
Friday, March 10, 2006
What Are You Doing about the Lost?
I’m in Quito, Ecuador as I write this. For the geographically challenged, that’s somewhere in South America.
My purpose in being here is to dialog with a dozen other missionaries, all with a fiery passion to win their peoples to Christ Jesus. We are mobilizers. That means we work to mobilize South Americans to go into all the world.
I was singularly impressed by one thing: there are millions of lost in South America. There are peoples of hundreds of tribes who have never heard the wonderful message of eternal and abundant life Jesus Christ offers them. One man shared with us today about Colombia. I could only shake my head as I saw the graphics that revealed the numbers of tribes who have never even been contacted. As far as anyone knows, not one believer exists among those tribes.
Someone once asked me about that kind of tribe. What will God do with those who never heard the gospel? Will he send them to hell? No one I know likes the answer to that question. But here it is in clear words: the lost go to hell, period. Does God delight in that? I seriously doubt it. God is infinitely greater than you or I. If we don’t delight in that thought, how much more does it grieve our Father in heaven? But man must respond to the revelation God has given him. Man, by his nature, too often rejects that revelation. But when man does respond, God moves towards him. Someone once said that he believed God would go as far as to wreck a plane to get a man to an unreached tribe if someone in that tribe had responded to the revelation God had given him. I agree.
But let me ask an even more pointed question. If you know there are tribes that have never heard, and you have a personal relationship with the Lord Jesus, what are you going to do about it? Your very smallest responsibility is to obey the words of Jesus, found both in Luke 10 and Matthew 9, “The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few; pray to the Harvest Master, therefore; ask him to send out workers into his harvest.” (My paraphrase) Your very minimal responsibility before God is to ask him to send laborers.
Your next response could be sacrificial. God may be answering our prayers by telling you to go to one of the thousands of tribes around the world that have not heard about Jesus. He called me to the gospel ministry twenty-eight years ago this week. That is, I heard his call that long ago. I recall something about being called before the foundations of the earth. After all, God’s plans are eternal; this is an eternal truth we are speaking about here.
You are also expected to be financially involved. If you can’t go, you can give. You may be able to give far more than Americans give (as a rule). I know people who spend thousands on their dogs and cats. That’s a yearly expense. Do you know what God can do with a few thousand dollars? Imagine, if he can multiply 5 biscuits and 2 fish, he can certainly use your giving to win hundreds to Christ.
Let me ask it again, what are you going to do about the lostness in the world? When you stand before Jesus, what answer will you give to that question?
My purpose in being here is to dialog with a dozen other missionaries, all with a fiery passion to win their peoples to Christ Jesus. We are mobilizers. That means we work to mobilize South Americans to go into all the world.
I was singularly impressed by one thing: there are millions of lost in South America. There are peoples of hundreds of tribes who have never heard the wonderful message of eternal and abundant life Jesus Christ offers them. One man shared with us today about Colombia. I could only shake my head as I saw the graphics that revealed the numbers of tribes who have never even been contacted. As far as anyone knows, not one believer exists among those tribes.
Someone once asked me about that kind of tribe. What will God do with those who never heard the gospel? Will he send them to hell? No one I know likes the answer to that question. But here it is in clear words: the lost go to hell, period. Does God delight in that? I seriously doubt it. God is infinitely greater than you or I. If we don’t delight in that thought, how much more does it grieve our Father in heaven? But man must respond to the revelation God has given him. Man, by his nature, too often rejects that revelation. But when man does respond, God moves towards him. Someone once said that he believed God would go as far as to wreck a plane to get a man to an unreached tribe if someone in that tribe had responded to the revelation God had given him. I agree.
But let me ask an even more pointed question. If you know there are tribes that have never heard, and you have a personal relationship with the Lord Jesus, what are you going to do about it? Your very smallest responsibility is to obey the words of Jesus, found both in Luke 10 and Matthew 9, “The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few; pray to the Harvest Master, therefore; ask him to send out workers into his harvest.” (My paraphrase) Your very minimal responsibility before God is to ask him to send laborers.
Your next response could be sacrificial. God may be answering our prayers by telling you to go to one of the thousands of tribes around the world that have not heard about Jesus. He called me to the gospel ministry twenty-eight years ago this week. That is, I heard his call that long ago. I recall something about being called before the foundations of the earth. After all, God’s plans are eternal; this is an eternal truth we are speaking about here.
You are also expected to be financially involved. If you can’t go, you can give. You may be able to give far more than Americans give (as a rule). I know people who spend thousands on their dogs and cats. That’s a yearly expense. Do you know what God can do with a few thousand dollars? Imagine, if he can multiply 5 biscuits and 2 fish, he can certainly use your giving to win hundreds to Christ.
Let me ask it again, what are you going to do about the lostness in the world? When you stand before Jesus, what answer will you give to that question?
Friday, February 24, 2006
Missional Musings
I am a missionary. I am writing from somewhere in South America. We are that other part of the world that so many people think has such ready access to the gospel that perhaps it is reached. But it is far from reached. In fact, if Jesus were to come today, 95% of South America would be left behind.
So that is why I am writing this today. It's my chance to remind the Christian church of the hundreds of millions of lost men and women in South America.
Let me define "lost." "Lost" means that a person has not repented of their sin. "Lost" means that person stands condemned already because he or she is separated from God by their sin. "Lost" means being controlled by a sinful nature, led by the passions of that nature and by the Prince of this world--Satan. "Lost" means that if a person were to die in the condition of being lost, that person would be eternally separated from God in a very real place called Hell.
Let me define "saved." "Saved" means being delivered from the condition of lostness. "Saved" means being rescued from the kingdom of darkness and transferred, or placed, in the kingdom of light--which is the kingdom of God. "Saved" means being purchased; the price was blood, pure blood.
How does one go from being lost to being saved? One must believe; he must repent. In other words, a person must exercise his will to turn from lostness to the salvation that has been offered.
Believe? Believe in what? One must believe that one person and only one person can be their savior. That would be Jesus, the Christ. He is God come in the flesh. His life was a perfect one. His singular mission was to seek and to save that which was lost. He lived perfectly, died perfectly, and was perfectly raised from the dead. Jesus' death was a barbaric and cruel death. It was a cross, a torture instrument. Yet neither the Romans nor the Jews killed him. Jesus gave up his soul. No one could take his life from him; it was his to lay down for us. And he did. But God raised Jesus bodily from the dead. And Jesus lives today. To be saved, one must believe that.
To be saved, one must make Jesus Lord of his or her life; this is because Jesus is Lord! To be saved, one must turn away from that Christ-less life to a life with and in Christ. That is called repentance. You turn your mind and your heart to Christ. You do it with your will.
As I said, some 95% of those living somewhere in South America have not made such a commitment to Christ. They are lost. They are in danger of dying lost.
While so many of my group's leaders and "theologs" are debating procedural events, I want to try to use this to call a few of us back to focus on the main thing. Some days I will write about Somewhere in South America. Other days I will take on issues special to the United States. Everyday I hope to exalt Jesus Christ.
Just another missionary
So that is why I am writing this today. It's my chance to remind the Christian church of the hundreds of millions of lost men and women in South America.
Let me define "lost." "Lost" means that a person has not repented of their sin. "Lost" means that person stands condemned already because he or she is separated from God by their sin. "Lost" means being controlled by a sinful nature, led by the passions of that nature and by the Prince of this world--Satan. "Lost" means that if a person were to die in the condition of being lost, that person would be eternally separated from God in a very real place called Hell.
Let me define "saved." "Saved" means being delivered from the condition of lostness. "Saved" means being rescued from the kingdom of darkness and transferred, or placed, in the kingdom of light--which is the kingdom of God. "Saved" means being purchased; the price was blood, pure blood.
How does one go from being lost to being saved? One must believe; he must repent. In other words, a person must exercise his will to turn from lostness to the salvation that has been offered.
Believe? Believe in what? One must believe that one person and only one person can be their savior. That would be Jesus, the Christ. He is God come in the flesh. His life was a perfect one. His singular mission was to seek and to save that which was lost. He lived perfectly, died perfectly, and was perfectly raised from the dead. Jesus' death was a barbaric and cruel death. It was a cross, a torture instrument. Yet neither the Romans nor the Jews killed him. Jesus gave up his soul. No one could take his life from him; it was his to lay down for us. And he did. But God raised Jesus bodily from the dead. And Jesus lives today. To be saved, one must believe that.
To be saved, one must make Jesus Lord of his or her life; this is because Jesus is Lord! To be saved, one must turn away from that Christ-less life to a life with and in Christ. That is called repentance. You turn your mind and your heart to Christ. You do it with your will.
As I said, some 95% of those living somewhere in South America have not made such a commitment to Christ. They are lost. They are in danger of dying lost.
While so many of my group's leaders and "theologs" are debating procedural events, I want to try to use this to call a few of us back to focus on the main thing. Some days I will write about Somewhere in South America. Other days I will take on issues special to the United States. Everyday I hope to exalt Jesus Christ.
Just another missionary
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