A Thought for Ministers of the Gospel

A friend sent me the following from Charles Spurgeon's historic and holy works. Nothing more needs to be said than is said below:

Excerpted from INCENSE AND LIGHT, March 11, 1883


I desire, in the third place, to show SOME SPECIAL PRACTICAL CONNECTION BETWEEN THE INCENSE AND THE LAMP. Let us read the text again: "And Aaron shall burn thereon sweet incense every morning when he dresseth the lamps, he shall burn incense upon it." So, then, there should be prayer especially at the dressing of the lamps: that is to say, when preparing our minds for that ministry by which we enlighten the people among whom we dwell we should be specially earnest in prayer.

Preparation for preaching and teaching is most important: God's work is not to be done carelessly as boys shoot arrows at random in their play. We must prepare both by reading and pleading: we must, like the apostles, give ourselves to the word of God and prayer. We are told by ancient Rabbis that when the priest who was appointed for that office went into the holy place he took with him the golden snuffers and the golden snuff dishes, and a vessel full of pure olive oil and by the help of these be attended to the trimming of the golden lamp. There were seven lamps on the candelabra:

some of these might have gone quite out during the night; he would have to take away whatever of snuff remained, wipe out the lamp, place a new wick, fill up with fresh oil, and then kindle the flame anew. In another lamp it may be the light was still burning but feebly: he might have simply to snuff it, take away the "the superfluity of naughtiness" in the golden snuff dish and make all things clean and right. Sometimes the light might be burning well and nothing was needed but to replenish it with oil. Thus all was set in order for another day. The like was done in the evening. In the process of trimming lamps there is a measure of offense: snuffs do not give forth a very dainty perfume, and the smear and smelt of oil are not altogether of sweet savor; therefore, before he trimmed the lamps, the priest kindled the incense. No snuff would then be offensive, for the overpowering fragrance of the incense killed it all and prevented the prevalence of any odour unfit for the house of God. When we go into our studies to try and trim our lamps let us remember that our first business is to pray. Alas, we have much of smoking wick about us; much negligence, much ignorance, many mistakes and errors; and thereby we shall grieve the Lord if Jesus is not called in to cover all. When we are preparing in secret to serve the Lord in public we shall make poor work of it if we do not beforehand draw near to God in prayer. We need that our garments should be made to smell of myrrh and aloes and cassia by being covered with the merit of Jesus, or else we shall offend even while engaged in the holy act of preparing to spread abroad the light of divine truth. You have to trim your lamps, brethren, and sisters, when you go into the Sunday-school - at least, I hope you do. I hope you do not run into your class with anything which first comes to hand: if you do not snuff your candles and fill your lamps with fresh oil your children will sit in darkness before a lamp which does not shine. No, there ought to be careful preparation, according as your time and ability will allow, and above all the pouring in of the holy oil of the Holy Spirit, by fresh fellowship with Jesus. In that process one of the chief elements is prayer. Dr. Adam Clarke used to say to young ministers, "Study yourselves dead, and then pray yourselves alive again"; and that is an excellent rule. Work in your study as if it all depended upon you, and then go forth and speak, trusting in God because all depends upon him.

Remember that the chief part of all study of God's word must be prayer.

This is the boring-rod and the powder by which we burst open the great rocks of truth. "To have prayed well is to have studied well," said Martin Luther, and so most certainly it is; therefore let none of us when we dress the lamp forget the incense.

Changes

Did you notice the title change? This is by design. My address remains the same for this blog. But my place for publishing will be changed. Our ministry is in transition. We are closing a volume of this journey, opening a new one.

As of April 18th, I will be a pastor in the United States. I will be in the Southern block of those great states, in south Mississippi.

The change is bittersweet. It has been delightful to serve our Lord Jesus in South America. We have done so since 1988, except for a brief return for medical needs at the beginning of the 21st century. So we have plenty of great memories and great hopes that we will see many hundreds of Peruvians and others in heaven one day. Only the Lord knows how many of the thousands that said they believed on the Lord under our ministry truly did. But we have great hopes.

Now it seemed good to the Lord to send us north of the equator once again. And we are excited. It's an exciting time in the world. It's a great time to be an active Christian. I can't wait to be back in the pulpit, equipping believers, challenging the congregation, seeking to evangelize the lost.

So, rejoice with me. But pray with me, too. The change is just now beginning to dawn on us. I look forward to it, but also walk in fear and trepidation.

The Great Adventure

Today is a milestone for me. I surrendered to preach the gospel message 31 years ago today. I still remember the battle, which had begun quite a long time before that. The battle heated up on March 5th, when the revival preacher said, “I believe God has called some young man to preach the gospel.” My heart nearly burst inside me. My knees grew weak. I began sweating and trembling. I gripped the pew and held on for all I had, hoping that invitation would end. Every night during that revival meeting the story was the same. I stood there, my sweat showering every one nearby, waiting for that conviction to pass so I could relax again.

A week later another guest preacher asked us if we were right with God to show it by giving him the right hand of fellowship. He did not want to take mine; I had hair past my ears and on my collar. No one dressed like that could be right with God, so far as he was concerned. I was just recovering from spinal paralysis (a herniated disc left me unable to move my legs at all), so it was difficult to make it down that aisle. But down I went. On my way home, singing the invitation hymn (I Surrender All) for all I was worth, God spoke. He said, “You’re lying.” The conviction began all over again. I asked the Lord why he said that. He told me I knew why. And I did. I could hardly get home. I got into the family room and fell to my knees; my parents were on the coast visiting family. I cried out for mercy. There was none. The path was clear. The call was clear. I grabbed my father’s topical Bible, looking for verses about the call to the ministry. My eyes fell on Is. 6:8. And I cried out again. This time Isaiah’s words were mine. It was only then that peace came.

It was there that the greatest journey of my life began. Before that day, to stand before anyone was emotional torture for me. I trembled so badly that I could not control my motions or my voice. After that moment, if I stand to preach, I am a completely different person. God takes over. I am empowered. There is no fear. There is only a burning passion to make clear every word God has spoken to me. I would not trade it for anything in the world.

Some do not believe that there is such a thing as “surrendering to preach.” Some well-meaning theologians ignore that possibility. If you did not have to surrender, fine. But believe me: I did not want to preach. I wanted to make money. I was not opposed to the ministry; I just wanted to do God’s work on my terms. So for me, I had to surrender. I surrendered all my dreams. I surrendered my will. I surrendered my entire future. I had to crawl back onto the cross and die to self. I had to remind myself I was crucified with Christ. I had to remember that the life I live today is the Christ-life. He makes my plans. He chooses my path. I just walk where he points. I say what he says to say. I am his. And he is mine.

As I said, I would not trade it for anything in the world. It’s a great adventure.

Urban Aches

This week was a vision trip with the youth pastor of a Louisiana church. It was to be to give him a vision regarding how his youth can plug into what we do down here. It was as much a fresh vision for me, as I rode with him and two of our three missionaries that he connected with. I saw sights and listened to pleas for spiritual help that stirred me deeply.

Some sights were so gripping that I was forced to stop speaking. As I watched men, women, young people, and children wandering in and out of crowded housing in Lima's inner city, I choked back tears. As we drove by the transvestites, prostitutes, and drug addicts, I felt their pain and wanted to reach out to them. Watching the homeless moved me, as well.

The incongruity of the sights was equally compelling. One street would be orderly and clean. Two blocks away, garbage would line the road and people would be thicker than the fleas on the street dogs down the road. In one part, tourists gawked at the interesting sights that a Latin American city offers. In another, we had to hide our belongings from the sight of the probable thieves that watched us. In fact, one man began running up to my window until he realized we spotted him; then he darted off in another direction.

All over the city, I was reminded of two things: Jesus died to set these people free. And we need many more workers to reach them before it is eternally too late.

Please pray for God to send his laborers to the urban centers around the world. Please pray for these large, lost groups of city dwellers.

Finding a Vision

I blinked and two weeks flew by. Time never stands still--at least not for a 50-something.

God let me go back to South America to lead a good group of men on a vision trip. They will adopt a part of Lima and begin sending teams down every few months. This partnership will, Lord willing, last up to 5 years.

I was both amused and impressed as I watched this group of men. I was amused at their reaction to our traffic. One man exclaimed, "I will never complain about traffic in Memphis again!" Others were far too busy praying for me, their driver. Even our Peruvian guest in the vehicle--himself a taxi driver--muttered, "Now I know what it feels like to ride in the back seat of my taxi." I guess I have become acclimated to driving in the big city. One thing is certain, those men learned how to pray!

I was impressed by their zeal for the lost. We did not do any persuasion evangelism; it was a vision trip. Some of you more spiritual readers may think we were unspiritual because we did not do any evangelism on this trip. But the men with me caught the same burden that wrenches my heart each time I enter a new community. We were overwhelmed by the lostness of Lima.

Once we went back to our rooms to have a prayer meeting; it was the middle of the day and we were completely overloaded with information about our task. I listened to the men as they begged me to make it easier and tell them where to work. I told them I could not do that; they had to find out where God was at work and join him there. So we prayed. They wept aloud over the task at hand. And God answered.

The pastor told me that he could not close his eyes without seeing one particular area I had taken them. There are literally hundreds, in the thousands, who live in that area who need the gospel. I asked them to pray for that part of the city before we moved on. We stood on a steep hillside and prayed for God's purpose and plans to unfold.

As though God had ordered our steps for that specific moment (I believe he had), one of our lay workers strolled up as we were about to leave. He told us the most recent strategic plans for the area. It was a confirmation, to the word, about what I had shared. Each way the pastor turned, there he saw the lost masses calling out to him.

It's all about finding a vision. These men traveled 3,200 miles with that express intent.

I believe God blessed them with a fresh one...

Those Spiritual Gifts

Do you know what your spiritual gifts are?

My top three spiritual gifts seem to be:

Prophecy
Exhortation
Teaching

Leadership is probably up there, too. But let's leave that aside for the moment. And I guess you could even add apostle, if you see it fulfilled through cross-cultural missions. No spiritual gift inventory I have seen to date asks questions that would reveal that.

As a missionary, I seek to work within the framework of my spiritual gifts. To do otherwise would be detrimental to the work of God. I also seek to form teams that best utilize their gifts. I think we fall short when we ask men and women to work outside their gifted areas. For example, to ask a person who is a strong administrator, but a weak teacher, to be a church-planter could be a misuse of that person's ministries, as given by the Holy Spirit. The converse would be equally true.

How do you carry out your ministry? What "form" do your teams take?

Don't Check Your Theology at the Door!

If you had the privilege or responsibility of giving one piece of advice to a new missionary or new pastor, what would it be?

One website I read said, “Be sure your belt fits, especially if you are large.” It was the first website that was listed for advice to ministers.

Another site said to write a business plan.

Then I found some more sage advice, such as, “Love God’s people.” That one was for pastors.
Adoniram Judson, that renown Baptist missionary of the 19th Century, said, “First, then, let it be a missionary life; that is, come out for life, and not for a limited term. Do not fancy that you have a true missionary spirit, while you are intending all along to leave the heathen soon after acquiring their language. Leave them! For what? To spend the rest of your days in enjoying the ease and plenty of your native land?” (Advice to Missionary Candidates, June 1832)

One of my daughters said to me, “To a pastor, I would say, ‘don’t be afraid of stepping on toes; preach the truth, no matter what.’ To new missionaries I would say, ‘Don’t go in assuming you know everything. Your expectations will get blown out of the water.’”

Someone else said, “To a missionary, ‘don’t lose hope; hang in there.’”

Here is my piece of advice, which applies to both missionaries and pastors: Don’t check your theology at the door. I am increasingly disappointed in the post-modern uncertainty that has begun to characterize our interaction with one another. In the name of tolerance, I fear, we are reluctant to have a strong and evident theology.

If you disciple men and women, but weaken your gospel to accommodate any given world view or culture, you have made weak disciples. And weak disciples equal a weak church.

Yes, there are areas of theology that are non-essential to the Christian faith; no, I am not referring to those areas. Yes, you will think some things to be non-essential that someone else will presume are essential; no, I don’t want to debate you on which are the essentials. I presume you are smart enough and have a walk with Christ that will allow you to develop a good theology.

Just don’t leave it at the door.

Now, what would your advice be?

The Final Pages of this Life Volume

Tomorrow is the last page of a long chapter in this volume of our life, and the first page of a new chapter in a new volume. At 10:40, I will fly north towards the great nation called the United States.

Looking back, it's been some ride. We returned to South America thinking we would do one thing. Before we even stepped foot on South American soil, we found that our job had changed. Not that we minded; we are here for the Lord's pleasure. It seemed that it pleased him to change our roles.

What have we seen in the past term of ministry? We have seen victory above all else. We have seen scores--hundreds--pray to receive Christ. We have seen dozens and dozens respond to the call to missions and Christian ministry. God started churches in some areas; in other areas, some churches ceased to meet. We helped build a community in one place. In another, the community gave us their building for us to meet church.

There have been joys in abundance. We have laughed and enjoyed deeply the presence of Jesus in our midst. Friends have been plentiful. There has been good fellowship with believers, both missionaries and nationals. Pam and I were even "officially married" in a local church in our 25th wedding anniversary. It was a fun celebration.

There have also been heartaches. But in all of it God has proven himself the faithful friend he tells us he is. We have been knocked to the ground, metaphorically speaking; but we were able to stand back up because our strength is not from us. Our strength is that same resurrection power that raised Jesus from the dead and seated him at the right hand of God in heavenly places. There he reigns victorious, above all principalities and powers. Here he reigns victorious in our hearts.

There have been battles. You don't start churches, win the lost, train leaders, disciple new believers, and other things important to starting churches without them.

Sometimes the battles have been intense. It's only the grace of Jesus that has enabled us to hold our heads high in those times.

Sometimes the battles have been personal. We are flesh and blood. We are not perfect. There are times we think we are farther along in our walk with the Lord, when suddenly someone does something or says something that reveals that our old nature still lurks behind some closed door. That old nature stinks, by the way; it's rotting and rotten. My old tennis shoes smell better!

We are looking forward to this time of rest. Our supervisor told us today to be sure to do just that. He told us to rest, to love on our two daughters living stateside, and to do all we could to not be thinking on this ministry we are leaving behind.

We are looking forward to writing a new chapter in our next life volume. The pages are clean, the pen is in the hand of a ready writer. What will it say? I don't know, because I don't know what the future holds; but I know who holds the future, as the song says!

The next time I write, I will be somewhere in southern America.

Peace! Kevin Shearer

Out of the Comfort Zone

On Sunday, we rubbed shoulders with people of considerable means. On Monday, our choir of 49 walked dirt streets, weaving between houses made of mat or thin plywood, and rubbed shoulders with men and women whose clothes were tattered and whose children could have taken two baths and still left a ring in the tub--if there was a tub to be found, that is.

These good men were definitely out of their comfort zone. But they handled it well, believe me. Their hearts swelled with joy and thankfulness. One man strained to read his notes under the dim lights that characterize most indoor lighting in that community (it was dark by then); I told him, "I bet you never complain about the lighting in your church again." He laughed and assured me that his complaining days were over. Walking down those streets has a way of doing it.

One big man gave me a bruising hug, thanking me repeatedly. He kept speaking of how needy those people were. I told him that he had to look past their physical poverty and recognize that their spiritual poverty was a far greater problem.

In all, The Mississippi Singing Churchmen have now sung to more than 2,500 people. They have seen more than 50 professions of faith. Their ministry is impacting Lima; but the Churchmen are being impacted, too.

They left their comfort zone when they stepped off Delta Flight 335. They fell into a wonderland of strange sights and sounds when they drove out of the airport gates. Now some wonder why they did not do this sooner.

It's a good thing to leave your comfort zone. It does wonders for your faith level. Don't get stuck on a lower level; don't be content when God can take you farther.

Just purpose to step out of the comfort zone. But do it God's way. Heed the voice of Jesus and go where and when he says to go.

A God Day

Yesterday I walked the streets of that former landfill now known as Oasis. It was cloudy--one of those heavy clouds we see that promises rain, but never comes through for us; that's how it is in a desert. The volunteers with me looked at the rain and commented, "Looks like rain." "Yep," I said. "But don't count on it; it doesn't rain here." So we stood there on that sand and dirt street with an icy wind whipping us as though we had taken the last cookie from the cookie jar. My sweater, normally enough for me, barely served as a wind-breaker.

I sent my team out to pass out flyers of an upcoming concert we will have in the area. While they passed out flyers, smiling and nodding (not one spoke any Spanish), I proceeded to walk amongst the people I have grown to love and enjoy being around. I played with children, boys and girls alike. I exchanged slaps on the back with the men. I hugged and kissed the ladies (ahem! on the cheek). More than once I heard, "Where have you been? Have you abandoned us?" I explained that I had been out taking care of other ministries. That was not good enough. They want a better explanation. So I used the "E" word: earthquake. Then they understood.

Before long, I found myself talking to Mario. Mario is 84. He has cancer. He is tired of living in pain. I offered to pray. It was all I could do; I don't have $100 a month for the pills they said would prolong his life. I prayed, asking God to bless Mario. He interrupted me, "It's Mario RODRIGUEZ." He wanted to be sure God blessed the right Mario. I told God I knew he heard what Mario had just said. I asked for strength, peace, and healing. Before praying I asked Mario if he knew the Lord Jesus; he told me he knew him with all his heart. It's much easier to pray for a man who says he knows the Lord.

Then I wandered down a narrow alley till I found Judith. Judith is a beautiful 18-year-old (approximately) who just gave birth to an even more beautiful baby girl. "Come see my baby," she said, excitedly. I stooped and went into the small straw mat hut with dirt floors. Theirs is better than some; they have three rooms. It was warm enough inside (thankfully). There, in the middle of the only bed they own, lay that precious baby. Judith looked up with proud, but pleading eyes. "Please pray for Chris; she has a lung infection and a blood infection." I did. Chris cried all the way through, sneezing from time to time. I told Judith I would be back. Judith has her own health needs. I know some doctors who plan to help meet them.

Everywhere I went, God used me to meet some need in someone's life. Everywhere I went, the people asked if I would be there that Sunday. I told them I would try. And I will. After all, you cannot plant a church down here if you do not walk among the people, seeking ways to meet them where they are.

I walked back to the main road, ignoring the most recent bite from the winter winds that blew around me. It was a good day. It was a "God" day.

Twenty-nine Years and Counting

March 12th was my 29th anniversary in the Christian ministry. It came and went without fanfare, only a realization that time flies, whether you are having fun or not.

It has been an exciting 29 years. I have seen some of everything.

I have been blessed to see scores repent and turn to Jesus in one meeting. I have been blessed to see revival and spiritual awakening in a sleepy community in South Mississippi. Yes, it was such a powerful thing that men and women would break out weeping when they saw me drive up with my chosen evangelist for the week; they would tell us how all day and night God dealt with their hearts and how they had hoped we would come by.

I watched God perform miracles of healing, of answered prayers for rain during a drought, of salvation for the most recalcitrant of men that I had ever seen.

I have been blessed to preach on two sides of the equator. I have enjoyed watching new believers from at least three countries open the word and discover for the first time the wondrous riches of God's word.

I have stood in communities where men and women had never seen a foreigner before (especially one as pale as I am). I have watched them wrestle with the gospel of Jesus Christ, before finally surrendering to him.

I have seen spiritual victory and suffered spiritual defeat. I have been on the proverbial mountaintop and sunk into the lowest valley. I have shouted in joyful glory of the overwhelming presence of the Holy Spirit; and I have shrieked in painful demonic attack, when it seemed that God had hidden his face.

We have suffered death, robberies, rejection, and who can remember what else? We walked through the wreckage of a downed airliner, searching for the remains of a fellow missionary. We wept with others and laughed with many more.

For most of my 29 years, I have been a voice crying in a desert--quite literally. Most of the places I have lived since 1989 have been cities in a desert in South America. There, God has taught me much. There, God has sustained me and my family.

There we were, as we watched our children grow; there we learned our first grandchild had died. There we learned the simple lesson that Jesus will never leave us ,or fail us, or abandon us.

If I live another 29 years, I hope they are at least as exciting as the last 29 have been.

May God give you as much joy and fruit--and more--as he has given me!