Troubles

Elizabeth Elliot Devotional


Title: Church Troubles

When the church prays "hallowed be thy name" it is usually pretty obvious that that holy name is far from hallowed in the way we as church members behave. In our travels we see and hear much about church troubles, and I am always reminded of the high priestly prayer of the Lord Jesus just before He went to the cross. As He prayed for believers ("those you have given me") His petition was, "Holy Father, protect them by the power of your name--the name you gave me--so that they may be one as we are one" (John 17:11, NIV).

For those who would later believe He prayed, "that all of them may be one, Father.... May they be brought to complete unity to let the world know that you sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me" (John 17:21; 23, NIV).

The answer to that prayer seems yet remote. Ought we not to put ourselves, each of us as individuals, in a position to cooperate with God in His bringing about this unity? How shall the world recognize His love unless we act in love toward one another? No one, I feel sure, would disagree here--in theory. Love each other. The obstacle is our selfish, self-determined selves.
Most churches have problems with the choir.

Martin Luther said, "If you can confine the devil's work to the choir, do so." But let's suppose that the problem seems to be the pastor.

(I confess to a certain bias in favor of these harried souls--I have a nephew, two nephews-in-law, a son-in-law, and a brother who are pastors). He's too young or too old, too conservative or too liberal, his sermons are irrelevant to our needs, or too long or too pointed for this congregation, he's a social mismatch, not sensitive to the variety of folks we've got here, he's partial--in short, we got the wrong man, it's a bad mix, the solution is simple: get rid of him. Then all will be well.

Before we take such a position of sovereignty, assuming we know the root of the trouble and are warranted in enforcing our "solution," might we not ask ourselves a few questions? (I do not refer here, of course, to cases which unequivocally call for dismissal, such as immorality or heresy.)

Who called this pastor? Was it the bishop? The church? Was the decision prayed over? Do we believe in the Holy Spirit's guidance?

Do we understand the shepherd of the flock to be one who bears responsibility and authority?
"Encourage and rebuke with all authority" was the apostle Paul's word to a young shepherd (Titus 2:15, NIV). To Timothy he said, "Command and teach" (1 Timothy 4:11, NIV). "Obey your leaders and submit to their authority...so that their work will be a joy, not a burden" (Hebrews 13:17, NIV). Have we respected that divine assignment?

If the sheep send the shepherd out of the fold, will not the sheep themselves be devastated, as well as the shepherd? Spiritual devastation is often the result of taking things into our own hands. No humility is wrought in us, no more robust faith is born.

Have we learned the meekness which understands the power of patience, of quiet waiting on God, and the futility of employing massive methods to get our own way? What about the reverence that trusts God's hidden, seemingly slow, working out of His own mysterious purposes? Impatience hardens.

Have we challenged evil with the wrong weapons?

"By the meekness and gantleness of Christ, I appeal to you.... Though we live in the world, we do not wage war as the world does. The weapons we fight with are not the weapons of the world. On the contrary, they have divine power to demolish strongholds" (2 Corinthians 10:1,3-4, NIV).

Are we willing to accept suffering? How much do we know of costly action, sacrificial love? Have we been willing to lay down our lives for this man, travail in prayer, accept the cross in the depths of our own hearts? The demands of faith cut across human logic and politics, and often oppose all ordinary methods and even common sense.

Have we pondered Jesus' warning not to expect His church to be without spot or wrinkle? The net brings in good fish and bad. The tares grow along with the wheat. He is at work perfecting His own bride--we'll never manage it ourselves.

Are we willing to let the cross cut painfully--humbly to relinquish our grasp of what we believe to be the true nature of the conflict, let go of our certainties of what "ought to be,"
and of our particular "rights"? Can we, in the spirit of Christ, mortify our whims, accept setbacks, accustom ourselves to misunderstanding, quit asking "What about my needs?" Let God take care of those--He promised He would, all of them.


"The Christian turns again and again from that bewildered contemplation of history in which God is so easily lost, to the prayer of filial trust in which He is always found, knowing here that those very things which seem to turn to man's disadvantage may yet work to the Divine advantage. On the frontier between prayer and history stands the Cross, a perpetual reminder of the price by which the Kingdom is brought in" (Evelyn Underhill, Abba).

Perhaps, if we would earnestly and prayerfully consider these things, both pastor and flock might be changed and the severance thus avoided. Perhaps not, but in the process we, the sheep, will certainly have learned to trust the Chief Shepherd more fully, and will have become a little more like Him.

"Love divine has seen and counted
Every tear it caused to fall,
And the storm which Love appointed
Was its choicest gift of all."