1/27/52

Scripture: II Timothy l: 1-14

Text: II Timothy 1: 2 -- “Grace, Mercy and peace, from God the Father and Christ Jesus our Lord.”

One evening this week, Mrs. Kingdon and I were leafing through some old hymnals that have been on a shelf in the Church School library for a long time. Several were of the “gospel hymn” type and I was interested in the number of those rather “catchy” tunes that I could remember. Frankly, I used to enjoy the swing of some of them - and still do occasionally. But the words of many of them are a weak, and often incoherent, expression of the theology that is far better expressed in the older traditional hymns currently used in our churches.

I remember one that was sung for a while with great gusto by old and young alike in a church I attended in my early youth. The chorus repeated the words: “Saved! Saved! I’m saved by the blood of the crucified one.” Those words represent a form of spiritual truth. Yet I doubt that the song would have any very deep appeal to very many of the people of our churches in this day. Its language has one aspect of the “churchiness” of a period that no longer appeals widely to people.

A woman of dignity and sincerity was making her testimony of religious devotion in an open air Salvation Army meeting. With unquestioned sincerity, she said, to any who would listen: “I am saved, I have been washed in the blood of the Lamb. I was a sinner, but Christ died for me and took away my sins, and I am saved. And he died for you my brothers; believe on him and you will be saved from your sins.” It is possible that some half-drunken wreck from the gutters of the city’s cruel life may have responded in hopeful desperation to that testimonial appeal. But most of the folk who stood around in respect, and even reverence, were unmoved. It left them cold. Most of this generation is in that crowd.

[whole life should be testimonial]

And yet the whole purpose of our religious interest is to make us care. The distraction of our generation, with its confusing claims, must not deprive us of our capacity for noble care.

If Church language about salvation gets in the way, or leaves us cold, we must, through different words, get hold of the truth back of the language that moves people to noble living.

Quite apart from the language of revival hymns and sermons; apart even from the language of some of the older translations of our Bible, we do well to perceive, back of it all, what made people think and act as they have done when lifted by a great spirit of constructive righteousness. For the thing that is represented in the word “salvation” is the only attitude that can remedy the personal and social evils of our time, or any time.

We hear reports of contemptible dishonesty in government. The remedy for it is enough aroused citizens, who in their own lives have the vision to care, to expose, root out and vote out the evil and require the placing of people in positions of trust who do care. We read appalling reports of drug addiction by some young folk who have been so devoted to their own sensations that they were easy marks for the dope peddlers. The peddling of harmful and illicit narcotics ought to be ruthlessly stamped out. But the most effective way to kill the evil would be for every person to care so much that not one individual would risk the integrity of his life for the “kick” which is described to allure some of the country’s youth.

The self-control which will curb all sorts of intemperate and wasteful living is not so much a matter of self denial as of self direction by a soul that cares. If God has an arrangement for making us care, we do well to know something about it.

The careless life disintegrates. A huge basswood tree in a deep woodsy spot was known to a boy who liked to play around it. As he learned about trees, he realized that this tree had withstood the storms of a half century or more. But one quiet day in summer, a mere breeze toppled it over with a crash. When the boy and his father examined it, they found that the whole interior of that tree had disintegrated to sawdust, by the action of insects that had eaten away, unknown, unheeded, unseen. It is so with a person who doesn’t car about integrity. He may seem to get by with a little dishonesty; and then a little more, and perhaps even with a great deal; but, inevitably, his force of character will disintegrate.

One who does not care may get by, for a time, with sheer self-indulgence of one sort or of many sorts. But in the long run, his health or his influence, or both, will disintegrate.

A person who cares only for himself may make quite a show of life for a time. But inevitably, the connections that bind him to other people disintegrate.

Unity and integrity of life come to those who care with some wholesome, dominating purpose. All this is not just to make us personally cautious. One of the experiences of God’s arrangement for making us care lies in the discovery that life is not a game of solitaire, but team play. What you or I do matters to others, who play and work with us. If you row your own boat on a small lake, it does not matter greatly whether you move swiftly or slowly, straight or zigzag, steadily or by fits and starts. But if you are a member of a rowing crew, it makes a tremendous difference. Whoever fails to put his full weight into his oar, in rhythm with the other oarsmen, makes it harder for the others to get the boat across the line.

Most of life is not a lake where everybody paddles his own canoe. Much of it is a stormy sea whereon safety, and even survival, depends on the coordinated efforts of a ship’s crew.

One of the hardest things to bear, for one who has made a fool of himself and gotten into some disgraceful mess, is the knowledge that its consequences hurt, not only himself, but his family and his friends. And by the same token, the happy family is one whose members take pride in the accomplishments of each other. And each member knows that the credit he accomplishes brings satisfaction and pleasure to the others. This is true of the fraternity to be found in a lodge of Masons.

Actually God’s “salvation” (is not that what we are discussing, after all?) involves a further experience of His arrangement to make us care. It is our contact with people who do not spare themselves.

In an eastern city a young dentist, well at the top of his profession, able to command large fees from wealthy clients, turned his concern to a more difficult and far less lucrative field. He saw that there was great need of the benefits of competent dental care, for the great middle class of people in his city -- people who did not have the money of the wealthy, and who were not supposed to go to the clinics for the poor, and yet many of whom could not afford the standard prices of dental work in that city. It is not a dramatic case, but is an example of unsparing concern by one who could, and did, tackle a hard problem in human welfare with selfless concern.

It does something good for us when we meet with someone who throws his selfish interest aside for others. The story is told of a workman who was handling a windlass while two others dug in a deep hole beneath. As the two down the hole loosened dirt and pieces of rock, they put it all in a large bucket, and he lifted it to surface by cranking the windlass and winding up the bucket rope. The men had filled the large bucket with pieces of rock, and then had gone on with their digging while he slowly wound it toward the top over their heads. Just as it reached the top, something went wrong and the whole load plummeted toward the bottom. In 2 or 2 seconds it would crash down on the heads of the fellows who were digging below. There wasn’t time to grab a tool or a stick or even to shout a warning. In the only faction of a second that could count, without thinking of anything except the lives of those two men down there, the man on the surface jammed his fist into the gears. His arm was drawn in nearly to the shoulder, but the bucket stopped. One good arm was sacrificed for two lives. Kind of foolish from the standpoint of self preservation. And yet one does care for a spirit like that. Why? You just care; that is all; without explaining it.

The man may have been rough and uncouth. Maybe he swore and spit tobacco juice to shock the sensibilities of your mother’s aunt! It could be that he was not the type to walk into the Rotary Club or swing a golf stick at the County Club. But far more important than the surface evidences of respectability, to the eyes of all who care, is the unsparing streak of selflessness that lifts every other admiring spirit.

Perhaps the spirit of really caring for life at its righteous best is what our church fathers were talking about when they spoke of salvation.

There is another religious expression that is useful for young and old alike when understood in terms of Christian action and conduct.

Paul wrote a salutation to his young friend, Timothy, in the words “grace, mercy and peace.” He often closed his letters with some such expressions as “The grace of the Lord Jesus Christ be with your spirit.” Because we have associated those words often with a benediction at close of worship, or with the quieting comfort offered to those in distraction or sorrow, we are apt to lose sight of the spiritual punch, the strength, the incentive of the meaning.

Perhaps the word “grace” suggest a girl’s name, or describes a pleasing personal carriage, or remind one of thanks at table. But it is intended as a word of personal power by Paul, and by Jesus, who used it before Paul. When Jesus says, “My grace is sufficient for you” [II Corinthians 12: 9] he is speaking not in terms of refuge from trouble, but of the personal ability to live victorious over trouble - to live with it and to do something about it! “Grace” is God reaching down into our need, not to lull us to contented sleep but to give us power in our testing and burdens. As used in New Testament times, it is a word of zest. The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ is the spirit of God with intense realism and strength. It is what enables us to face those days when it seems that each day alone is all we can bear. But, with that grace, we do live the day, not just getting through it but living it through.

Mercy is a quality not of the weak but of the strong. Do not allow it to be a linguistic image of some frail, lacy, or indulgent old aunt. It belongs to the vigorous, sometimes the stern, always those who are strong enough to be in position to choose it.

Strength sometimes breeds bullies, among both children and adults. Sometimes it begets ruthlessness. Mercy tempers strength, puts meaning into it. And all people need to experience it from others in order to have it to show toward others.

“The mercy of the Lord is from everlasting to everlasting” for those who sincerely seek his ways of right. [Psalm 103: 17].

And then there is the bequest of peace. “My peace I give unto you,” said Jesus Christ. [John 14: 27]. It is always a good idea to remember that Jesus’ words were spoken in stormy, corrupt and violent times. Peace, for him, might have meant keeping his mouth shut, staying in the fair security of a tradesman’s shop and doing as other fairly good people did, or meant to do. He could have had shelter, food, clothing; possible a household of his own; probably the regard of his neighbors and town folk.

Evidently that did not mean peace to him, for he left his home, forsook the shop, refused to conform to other people and openly pointed out the points at which they fell short; went hungry and without shelter part of the time, never had a family of his own, was thrown out of his own church and town and was nearly killed by those who should have been his neighbors.

Of the comfortable, and seemingly secure kind of peace I have first described, he simply said “I came not to bring peace, but a sword.” [Matthew 10: 34]. His own peace was the kind that meant self composure and confidence in the midst of the most violent struggle against evil and ignorance and entrenched self regard. And he talked of this kind of peace when the air was thick with rumors, a betrayer had gone out, even Peter’s loyalty threatened to give in to popular will. Crucifixion was only a few hours away.

And yet he wasn’t mis-using a word. He was using “peace” in the finest and most right sense. For peace is something to be firmly and devotedly built.

People of Jesus’ day had gotten into the habit of using the word “peace” as a salutation like “good morning” or “good-bye.” It might be used to break an awkward silence. It could be an awkward ceremonial in conventional speech. In the Lord’s speech, it was a gracious achievement! Said He, “The words which I speak unto you, they are spirit, they are life.” [John 6: 63]. Peace was a glorious transaction to him, and to those who understood him. It is fundamental rightness with God and his universe.

I once read of a woman who found, after having put off for some time a consultation with her doctor, that she had a serious malady which might soon cost her life if not treated immediately. Of course the discovery shocked her. She was in anything but a tranquil state of mind.

But she planned to accept the treatments whether painful or not, to cooperate with the physician in everything he directed. She slipped into her church and prayed. She arose with a new kind of peace; not submissive acceptance; certainly not passive tranquillity; but a positive, confident eagerness to get about the cure of her illness. For her, that was the peace that passes all understanding -- a building, healing, strengthening experience -- something that belonged to her soul’s well being, no matter what the state of her bodily health.

The grace, mercy and peace of God, in Christ is something refreshing, renewing, and strengthening. It is like the salvation that comes to those who care and who plunge into life with more power than any mortal possesses, except he be blessed of God in his spirit.

And so Paul says to Timothy, and Jesus Christ says to each of us, young and old alike, to everyone of his own, “Grace, Mercy and Peace to you!” And for all who receive this blessing, newer and greater things shall be continually revealed and required by the Giver of the grace!

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Dates and places delivered:

Wisconsin Rapids, January 27, 1952

Wisconsin Rapids, October 23, 1955