‘In A. W. Tozer’s foreword to Leonard Ravenhill’s book – ‘Why Revival Tarries’ – Tozer made the following statements, which, I believe when truthfully considered, the conclusion will be that the words are very much appropriate for the present time:
Great industrial concerns have in their employ men who are needed only when there is a breakdown somewhere. When something goes wrong with the machinery, these men spring into action to locate and remove the trouble and get the machinery rolling again. For these men a smoothly operating system has no interest. They are specialists concerned with trouble and how to find and correct it. In the kingdom of God things are not too different. God has always had His specialists whose chief concern has been the moral breakdown, the decline in the spiritual health of the nation or the Church. Such men were Elijah, Jeremiah, Malachi and others of their kind who appeared at critical moments in history to reprove, rebuke, and exhort in the name of God and righteousness. A thousand or ten thousand ordinary priests or pastors or teachers could labor quietly on almost unnoticed while the spiritual life of Israel or the Church was normal. But let the people of God go astray from the paths of truth and immediately the specialist appeared almost out of nowhere. His instinct for trouble brought him to the help of the Lord and of Israel. Such a man was likely to be drastic, radical, possibly at times violent, and the curious crowd that gathered to watch him work soon branded him as extreme, fanatical, negative. And in a sense they were right. He was single-minded, severe, fearless, and these were the qualities the circumstances demanded. He shocked some, frightened others and alienated not a few, but he knew who had called him and what he was sent to do. His ministry was geared to the emergency, and that fact marked him out as different, a man apart. To such men as this the Church owes a debt too heavy to pay. The curious thing is that she seldom tries to pay him while he lives, but the next generation builds his sepulcher and writes his biography, as if instinctively and awkwardly to discharge an obligation the previous generation to a large extent ignored. Those who know Leonard Ravenhill will recognize in him the religious specialist, the man sent from God not to carry on the conventional work of the Church, but to beard the priests of Baal on their own mountaintop, to shame the careless priest at the altar, to face the false prophet and warn the people who are being led astray by him. Such a man as this is not an easy companion. The professional evangelist who leaves the wrought- up meeting as soon as it is over to hie him to the most expensive restaurant to feast and crack jokes with his retainers will find this man something of an embarrassment, for he cannot turn off the burden of the Holy Ghost as one would turn off a faucet. He insists upon being a Christian all the time, everywhere; and again, that marks him out as different. Toward Leonard Ravenhill it is impossible to be neutral. His acquaintances are divided pretty neatly into two classes, those who love and admire him out of all proportion and those who hate him with perfect hatred. And what is true of the man is sure to be true of his books, of this book. The reader will either close its pages to seek a place of prayer or he will toss it away in anger, his heart closed to its warnings and appeals. Not all books, not even all good books come as a voice from above, but I feel that this one does. It does because its author does, and the spirit of the author breathes through his book.
Is there not a cause?
‘And Eliab his eldest brother heard when he spake unto the men; and Eliab’s anger was kindled against David, and he said, Why camest thou down hither? and with whom hast thou left those few sheep in the wilderness? I know thy pride, and the naughtiness of thine heart; for thou art come down that thou mightest see the battle. And David said, What have I now done? Is there not a cause? …’ (1 Samuel 17: 28-30).
My personal story is representative of the majority of our board of directors. Like these thoughtful people, I do not count myself to be in the class of those extraordinary men referenced by A. W. Tozer; neither do I think I am in any way as equipped as Mr. Ravenhill was. And of course, I am not making what will be tantamount to the most illusory assumption were I to compare myself to the great King David. Quite upfront, I do reckon myself as one that cannot do a thing on his own without the Lord’s help.
Left to me, I love to stay in the background. Those close to me these past decades will ascertain this to be my preference. Not because of anything that terrifies me, but just my choice. My interest in any competition has since ceased. Thus, I dislike the slightest appearance that would suggest that I know more. Even when I was thrust forward by circumstances, I retreated afterwards as soon as feasible.
However, when I see what is going on in the Church today, I cannot but concur with David that something must be done because ‘Is there not a cause?’. Providentially, David was thrust into a war he did not seek, but one he could not walk away from since the ones that were supposed to take up the challenge failed and faltered. Similarly, we did not ask for this war, but here we are, one is being thrust on us. What are we to do? Back out? No. Like David, like Phinehas, like Luther, here we stand, we can do no other (so help us God. Amen).
While complaining to a friend some years ago about the sad trends in the Church, he – looking back in retrospect, rightfully – scolded me that this is the default when people who are prepared by the Lord to do His work refused to step into the ministry. He was right. No doubt it is now late into the plot, a plot that has been thickened. But, what can be done? Can things still be salvaged?
To be clear this course of action will not be easy. It will be fraught with dangers, even threats to mortal life. Regardless, I can not do otherwise, I have been drafted. I have received, what someone called, ‘the grip of a call from beyond myself’. Like Jeremiah, His word is like fire in my bone. I cannot keep quiet. Like Esther, I am all in; potential consequences be damned. By my estimate, speaking the truth as God’s servant is worth it all. I can afford to lose all earthly temporal things – if the Lord wishes – to gain, in turn, everything that endure. Though in time, this course of action may seem unwise, but as eternity will surely reveal, it is worth it. After all, it has been said that ‘he is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain what he can not lose’ (Jim Elliot – Martyr for the Gospel 1956).
Would you stand with me? Would you join hands with me? I wish you would. I know what it is like when the Lord has many people in a city (Acts 18:9-10) ). But this most-important work will not be contingent on that. With many or with few, this work must proceed. Perhaps the Lord was speaking to me in a parable years ago when I read the story of J.C. Ryle (1816 -1900) – the first Anglican Bishop of Liverpool. The book’s title is ‘J.C. Ryle: Prepared to Stand Alone’. Indeed, history reveals that it is not unusual for God’s errand men to stand alone. It is more like the Kingdom norm. Though alone, yet they are not alone. In the real analysis, they are the majority – a lesson learnt by Elisha’s servant, rather ately (2 Kings 6). Surely, one with God is a super majority. Praise God.
Who am I? and what specifically is my calling? Find out from HERE.