3. The New Truth Seemed Unscriptural
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Strong Jewish traditions, based on the Word of God, had the disciples expecting a triumphant king, not a suffering servant. With Jesus’ new teaching seeming to contradict Scripture, is it any wonder that they did not want to explore the implications of what he was saying?
It is tragically possible for a good grasp of some Scriptures to actually close our minds to further biblical revelation the Lord wishes us to have.
As I have written elsewhere:
“Seek and you shall find” is a clear promise from God. So how can sincere Christians all seek God’s truth about a Bible passage or doctrine and not find the same thing? The obvious answer is that many of us stop seeking too soon.
When devout Christians come to wrong conclusions, much of their understanding is correct. Almost all of us, however, long to rush ahead and try to join the dots too soon. The problem then becomes our tendency to feel more certain than warranted by the evidence so far gathered, and to unintentionally close our minds to anything further God may wish to reveal to us that does not gel with our presumptions.
It is so hard to remain open to the possibility that we have reached our conclusions prematurely and that God has startlingly new things to show us on that topic. We tend to become closed off because we are rightly concerned about being seduced into error. Seldom do we consider, however, that we might already have slipped into a mistaken conclusion. This is one reason why humility is so critical for truth seekers.
“Who has bewitched you?” agonized Paul, distressed that the Galatians, who had started off so well in their grasp of spiritual truth were in danger of losing it all. The parable of the sower tells of those who don’t even start their spiritual journey because of birds that snatch the seed of God’s Word before it can take root. But the parable continues. Those who burst into spiritual life have no reason for smugly settling back. It’s a long, slow process from germination to producing grain and many, says Jesus’ parable, don’t make it.
We can start off so teachable and open to the Holy Spirit, that we grow remarkably in spiritual understanding, but if this growth turns to pride, everything sours. Like a ravenous lion, the Evil One waits for us to forget that spiritual revelation flows from the grace of God, not from our devotion or intelligence. Then the Evil One pounces, getting his revenge by perverting our divinely given knowledge into a source of pride that ends our spiritual growth spurt. Even our earlier gains can be mauled.
Spiritually devastating pride can ambush us at any stage of our journey. In fact, the further we go in God’s blessing, the greater the danger. King Saul started off so humble. Though chosen as king, he hid himself rather than take centre stage (1 Samuel 10:22). Soon after, he again displayed humility by refusing to use his popularity and authority to take revenge on those who despised him (1 Samuel 10:27; 11:12-13) As he grew accustomed to being treated as royalty, however, he slowly sunk into someone so drunk with pride that he repeatedly made a fool of himself and ruined his life.
No matter how much we grow in spiritual knowledge, there is always more in God and we never lose our utter dependency upon the Holy Spirit. The more we think we know, the more likely it is that we will cut ourselves off from new truths we desperately need. We must always be open to the possibility that our current understanding – no matter how Bible-based – is not the full picture.
Permit me to quote from my book “Waiting for your Ministry” to illustrate the power of humbly acknowledging that in God there is always more.
When I read that throughout his life George Muller “never stopped learning” and “was always willing to change” I knew I had found a vital root to his fruitfulness. While labouring in close association with Henry Craik, Muller discovered that Henry’s sermons were saving more souls than his own. I’d have assumed my mix of gifts was different and resigned myself to smaller yields. Muller was smarter. Careful observation revealed that Henry was more spiritually-minded, more fervent in prayer for soul-winning power and had a more direct approach. George prayerfully and humbly appropriated these elements into his own life and became an equally effective evangelist.
John Pollock writes of D. L. Moody’s amazing “capacity for growth right until the end.”
When eighteen-year-old Moody was interviewed for church membership he was asked “what has Christ done for us all – for you – which entitles him to our love?”
“I don’t know,” confessed Moody, “I think Christ has done a good deal for us. But I don’t think of anything particular as I know of.”
Two deacons were assigned to instruct him. Nearly a full year passed before he was finally accepted into membership and even then, commented his kindly Sunday School teacher, “little more light appeared.” After about another year, his ungrammatical attempts at prayer made people so uncomfortable that he was asked to keep silent in future.
Eventually he decided that although he could not possibly teach children, he could at least bribe them with sweets and kindness to lure them to Sunday School. Once, to his horror, he found himself with a small group of children and no speaker. He was forced to stumble through a Bible story. He gradually discovered he could tell a story to children, provided no minister was within earshot. Addressing adults was unthinkable.
At age twenty-eight he would invite seminary students to preach at a church. One day a student failed to arrive and he felt obligated to act as an inadequate substitute. Slowly, year after year, decade after decade, he developed into an outstanding evangelist.
He once invited theologian Henry Weston to address his conference. Moody could draw far bigger audiences, and, through Christ, save thousands more souls than this man. In fact, it is conservatively estimated that in an era before microphones, not to mention no radio or television or jets, 100 million people seized the opportunity to hear Moody. Of the eight encyclopaedias, biographical and Christian dictionaries I consulted, all devoted space to Moody; Weston did not rate a mention. So vast was Moody’s influence that Weston’s own students challenged his views on the basis of what they had heard from Moody.
Yet when Weston rose to speak, Moody carried his chair off the platform, placed it literally at Weston’s feet and sat there soaking in every word. Suddenly he shouted, “There goes one of my sermons!” Startled, Weston asked for an explanation. Moody replied that he would now have to dump one of his favourite sermons because Weston had just proved to him that it was based on a misconception. Weston recommenced his address only to be interrupted a little later by, “There goes another . . .”
Small wonder that like a towering tree, Moody kept growing and growing; eventually making those who had originally outstripped him look like stunted bushes. He developed gifts so vast that it is said he could have run for President of the United States.
To turn a vibrant, growing Christian into a tragedy, convince him he has already learnt all that he needs to know. It’s not where you start that matters; it’s where you end.
So the challenge confronting us is the need to be continually open to new revelations from God, even if the new is as perplexing as the Messiah seeming to break one of the Ten Commandments, or, like Peter being asked in a vision to eat unclean food, the new initially seems contrary to a truth you, or even your entire church, hold dear. (Of course, in such extreme cases we must exercise immense caution and humility lest we fall into serious error.)
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