|Our grandchildren at play defending Aslan|
By Ada Nicholson Brownell
Shouldn’t I say something to defend my Lord?
Much changed in the world between the time I was employed in the 1960s and when I reentered the work force recently.
Filthy language assaulted my ears then, but not to the extent it does now. Gutter talk has been elevated to everyday conversation, and it appears no words or subjects are off limits.
Even though I cringed every time I heard God’s name taken in vain, it seemed every dirty word clawed at my flesh, I managed to smile and go about my work.
But there was one thing I could not ignore: the deliberate, sacrilegious mockery of the Lord Jesus Christ.
One evening at work a young man who was brilliant and likable—despite an obvious bitterness toward God—was reading something that pertained to Jesus. He was the office clown, and his outburst of profanity and strange twists of wit usually brought gales of laughter from those around him.
Suddenly that night he began acting as if he were praying. He called upon Jesus in mockery, trying to feign sincerity.
Since I was busy, I thought I could ignore him; but the tumbling forth of his mockery assaulted my ears.
I had been subjected to such things before at the secular university I attended. Open attack on the deity of the Lord Jesus Christ seems to be popular among non-Christians today.
Previously I coined my own phrase about it: “Atheism is the opiate of the sinner.”
But as the young man pretended to pray, I found myself growing angry. I felt an intense desire to say something—to shut his mouth. I felt I should defend my Lord.
At the same time, I was hurt and wanted to cry. The Lord Jesus Christ is my life, my all. How could I continue to allow such profanity in my presence?
At other places where I had worked, people noticed I was different, and slowly the atmosphere changed. But this fellow seemed to take particular pleasure in attacking the Lord when I was present. And I said nothing.
For the next three weeks I wept at every church service I attended. After working in such an ungodly atmosphere, when I went to church I felt as if I’d gone to heaven. As uncontrollable tears ran down my cheeks and I basked in the love and presence of the Lord, I felt I had failed miserably in the office. Shouldn’t I say or do something in defense of my Lord?
The third week I was still having trouble with tears as the minister preached. During his sermon, he mentioned how Peter had tried to defend the Lord in the Garden of Gethsemane when the soldiers came to arrest Jesus.
As the soldiers seized Jesus, Peter drew his sword. The weapon flashed in the darkness and evidently he soldier ducked, for Peter cut off the soldier’s ear.
“Put away your sword,” Jesus said. “If I wanted protections, I could call ten legions of angels to assist me.”
Then Jesus touched the soldier’s ear and healed him (Luke 22:51).
Even though I had studied the incident many times, suddenly it came alive with new meaning. It made me realize how much God loves sinners! His love goes beyond my anger and desire to retaliate.
He doesn’t want my defense. He doesn’t need it. He wants me to show others His love—not anger; not a sword!
In spite of a sinner’s rebellion against Him Jesus still loves that sinner. “While we were yet sinners, Christ died for us” (Romans 5:8). “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends,” Jesus said (John 15:13).
The supreme act of love already has been given for me and for the office clown. I began praying more earnestly that he would accept that love— and that he would see that godly love in me.
THE PENTECOSTAL EVANGEL, July 22, 1984