 |
| 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
No comments:
Post a Comment