Month: December 2019

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God picks his moments

I was busy wiping a cow’s backside when the Lord spoke.

On our farm in England, we kept 150 dairy cows. We struggled to make money, so we decided to keep pedigree Holsteins, worth several times an ordinary cow. Their daughters could fetch thousands of pounds.

The only thing was, you had to take them to livestock shows. If they won, their value increased.

Showing cows was an art. We began halter training as calves, so they were tame. We gave them the best food; the cows had to be in glowing health for the show. But one thing you cannot do is house-train a cow!

On the day we rose early and clipped, washed, polished and sprayed. Ethel, my favorite, was ready for the ring. We’d spent hours with her, and she sparkled.

Then she lifted her tail, about to poo. Disaster! I grabbed the prong and piled straw behind her to catch the splashes. When she’d finished, I picked up a giant loo roll and wiped up. That was the moment the Lord spoke.

“John!” His voice echoed in my head as clear as a bell. “Do you want to do this for the rest of your life?”

He got me! I loved farming and I loved my cows, but God’s Kingdom was far more important. I think that was the moment I decided to sell the farm. Was it easy? No.

But the Lord promises, “Everyone who has left houses or brothers or sisters or father or mother or children or fields for my sake will receive a hundred times as much and will inherit eternal life” (Matthew 19:29).

Our life has been an adventure ever since, traveling the world, seeing thousands saved and healed. What a privilege to work in the Lord’s harvest fields, and I no longer have to clean cows.

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Commissioned

“Commissioned,” Ali said. “We’re commissioned by the star. We can’t go home, Ben.”

Ben pointed behind them. “The king’s lying, that’s all. Didn’t you see his eyes?”

They left the city gates and passed a lively market. Shouts echoed from the stone walls. Produce cluttered the pavement―melons, onions and pomegranates. They steered their donkeys away from the crowds.

A third man, Saba, stroked his white beard. “He’s right, Ali. The man’s poison, but we don’t have to obey him.”

 “He’ll kill us, Saba!” Ben sliced his throat with his finger.

Saba nodded. “So we travel at night.”

Ben spread his arms and shrugged. “Yeah, with the lions and bears and bandits. You’re nuts!”

Ali grabbed Ben’s shoulders. “Come on, Ben, let’s get this thing sorted. We’ve come a long way. We can’t turn back now. And anyway, don’t you want to see him?”

The cobbled road followed a ridge through sparse forest. Here they rested in the afternoon, letting the donkeys graze in the shade. They waited until the stars grew fat and journeyed on, reaching the village at dawn.

Roosters crowed. Dogs slunk into the shadows. A flock of young girls, chattering like sparrows, carried water jars on their shoulders.

“How do we know which house?” Ben asked.

Saba pointed to the sky. “Still present.”

Ben looked up and nodded. “I didn’t expect that. Not here.”

“Commissioned,” Ali said.

They turned into a narrow alley, the donkeys’ hooves kicking dust.

Saba coughed. “I think we’re here, gentlemen.”

A small crowd clustered around an adobe and thatch house. In the doorway, stood a young man, grinning. A teenage girl emerged, holding a newborn child. Her face shone.

The crowd fell silent. They stepped back.

The three travelers knelt in the dust and bowed, their faces to the ground.

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Why is idolatry so deadly?

The Ten Commandments begin: “You shall have no other gods before me. You shall not make for yourself an idol.” Pretty stern, but what exactly is an idol?

Other gods are things we’ve not made, like the sun, moon, angels or people. An idol is something we’ve made, images or art, sport or entertainment, as long as we worship it. By doing so, we’re putting ourselves first.

“But John, I don’t bow down to my football or my TV.” Probably not, but who is your priority? Your team or the Lord? Your programme or church? Who comes first?

By making it ourselves, we are saying to God, “I don’t need you, my ways are better than your ways, my thoughts are greater than your thoughts.” Putting ourselves first.

Yesterday I met a man full of his own importance. “I am not badly informed,” he said, and then ranted against the church, the Bible and our political leaders. For him, his thoughts were greater than the Lord’s. Idolatry.

What about money?

Jesus said, “You cannot serve God and mammon,” and mammon is a spirit. Do we make decisions based on the Lord’s will, or on how much money we have? If money makes the call, it’s in charge! Idolatry again.

Deadly greed

Greed is defined as “a selfish and excessive desire for more than is needed.” James calls it “selfish ambition.” Putting ourselves first again. Idolatry. Here’s the rub:

 For of this you can be sure: No immoral, impure or greedy person―such a man is an idolater―has any inheritance in the kingdom of Christ and of God (Ephesians 5:5).

Mahatma Gandhi said, “The world has enough for everyone’s need, but not everyone’s greed.”

Greed consumes at the expense of others. How much do we really need?

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What is church?

Photo: Jeremy Bishop, Unsplash

When we come together, what do we do? Sing, pray, preach, offering, notices, communion and coffee. That’s church, surely? Actually, the Scriptures suggest otherwise.

The Apostle Paul has a very different picture in mind. When you come together, he writes in 1 Corinthians 14:26, Everyone has a hymn, or a word of instruction, a revelation, a tongue of an interpretation. Everyone? John, that would be chaos.

What about this then: And if a revelation comes to someone who is sitting down, the first speaker should stop (1 Corinthians 14:30). Have you ever seen it?

If that describes church, what we mostly do is celebration. That’s fine but allows little scope for the body of Christ to function in the gifts of the Spirit, for the common good.

Come with, not for

Jesus said he came to serve, not to be served. We call our meetings services. If so, we should bring something to serve others. In our entertainment age, have we forgotten? The Lord says, No one is to appear before me empty-handed (Exodus 34:20). Instead of coming for, we should come with.

It requires training, participation and faith. It’s also hard in large meetings. Perhaps we should redefine “church” to be a body of participating members.

Three levels

“Celebrations” could be less frequent gatherings of these churches, enjoying the buzz and encouragement of the larger group. This way several churches could even share the same facilities, structures, or staff.

“Churches” would be the regular mid-sized group where participation was both possible, taught and expected. Finally, members could still “do life together” in our homes – sharing meals, stories, prayer and support.

That would challenge our sense of unity! Which was precisely the problem in Corinth. For more, see my new book, The Seven Seals of the Holy Spirit.

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My vision of choice

The worship service seemed to dissolve. I became aware of a small church on a broad rise, set in rolling countryside. A small crowd emerged from the south door, laughing together.

To the right, beneath the sun-bright sky, a gentle breeze wafted the scent of elderflowers from the verdant hedgerows. It was a perfect English day in May. But not on the left of the church . . .

St Martin’s Church Fifield Bavant Wiltshire

Here all was grey and red and black – a stark and arid landscape of canyons and cliffs. A narrow lych-gate guarded its awkward entrance.

Was the Lord giving us a choice? For nine months since we’d put the farm on the market in 1989, we’d prayed for direction. “Lord, what do you want us to do?” We were willing to go anywhere―but where?

On the left side of the vision, a huge silver cross dominated the black sky. The choice was clear. “I must go the way of the cross,” I told the Lord. “But didn’t you promise to bless our choices? What about the right side?” Hanging in the right-hand sky was a tiny cross.

“Lord, I’ve chosen the left, but it looks bleak. Can you show me more?”

Zooming into the picture, I flew past rocks and gullies towards a vast black forest. As we neared, the forest became people gathered around a pimple of light. Closer still, the light became a blazing preaching platform―the people an immense, black crowd. Tropical trees surrounded the throng.

Beyond the trees, we approached another gully, down which I had to leap, and beyond that, a distant landscape of further adventures. “Thank you, Lord,” I said. “I’ve seen enough.”

Two weeks later, we received a call from Reinhard Bonnke’s team, Christ for all Nations, inviting us to be their international crusade directors.