Every Thursday we’ll post something about relationships. Hope it’s useful.
“Woe unto you, when all men shall speak well of you!” – Luke 6:26
I had a rough experience as a 17-year old, a spiritual and emotional boot-camp event which I thank God for now. It shaped me, and my approach to Christian life and service, by hammering into me a simple, critical truth: Peace of mind trumps popularity.
At the time I was entrenched in the life of a local Pentecostal church where I played piano, participated in all services, and volunteered for virtually any task available. I’d established deep ties with the families there, and even deeper friendships with many of the other guys, so it’s no stretch to say it was my home. Pastor was my father; the congregants my family; the other young men my brothers and allies. Church was everything to me.
Then another young ministry sprang up in the area, attracting many of my Christian schoolmates and friends, and after visiting that group for awhile I was asked to play piano for their services as well, so for a few months I worked with both churches. The new group soon asked if I’d consider more full time service with them, and despite my ties to my church I felt strongly that this was, for me, God’s calling. It afforded the chance to not only help with worship, but with a variety of other duties as well, and the chance for an eventual full time position. The more I prayed about serving with them, the stronger I felt God’s leading to accept their offer. I chose, and it was hard. But I was certain it was right.
My Pastor, who’d watched my growing involvement with the other group, was well known for his prophetic gifts. Shortly after my decision was made, he no doubt sensed my direction before I had a chance to tell him. So one Sunday night in the middle of worship, he strode over to the piano where I was seated, having just played for the choir, and began thundering a “Thus saith the Lord” warning that I would be stepping out of God’s will if I went with another church, that I was being deceived, and that I must refuse their offer. And in those days, in that church, a prophetic word from the Pastor was nothing less than a direct message from God. To question it, much less defy it, was the ultimate rebellion.
(Full disclosure: I am still a Charismatic believer, active with the Assemblies of God, so I do believe in, and celebrate, the spiritual gifts.)
I was terrified. The prophet had just said, publicly and definitely, that I was wrong. The entire congregation shouted Amens and Hallelujahs after he finished, underscoring their agreement with him, and I sat trembling. When the worship was finished, I quietly left the building, facing and hating the crossroads in front of me. If I followed what seemed to be God’s direction in my life, I’d be openly rejecting the Pastor’s allegedly inspired warning, making me a backslider and traitor in the eyes of people who meant so much to me. Yet if I followed the Pastor’s direction, I’d be ignoring, and even betraying, what I really believed to be true. I got into my car, desolate, and decided to drive out to Calvary Chapel of Costa Mesa and run the whole situation past Chuck Smith, a man I had developed tremendous confidence in. His own church’s service was just ending, so I waited in line to speak with him.
He listened, smiled knowingly, and said, “This is nothing new. Having the gift of prophecy doesn’t make a man infallible. Go home and read this chapter – I Kings chapter 13 – and see what God has to say to you.”
It’s an obscure passage, one you may never have read. In it, a young unnamed prophet is sent to deliver a message to the King with a stern warning from God that he is not to stop in anyone’s home on the way to or from his mission. An older prophet encounters him, invites him over for dinner, and the young prophet declines, stating that he’s been instructed by God not to stop in anyone’s home. To which the older prophet replies, “I’m also a prophet, and an angel told me to have you come into my home.” So the young prophet, taking the older man’s word and ignoring what God had spoken to him personally, accepted the offer.
For letting another man’s “thus saith the Lord” override his own convictions, he was eaten by a lion on his return trip.
Point taken. I called my pastor the next day, told him my decision, listened to his objections, then moved on. I’ve never regretted it.
Following personal conscience and/or what you truly feel to be God’s leading brings you to a peaceful, albeit lonely, place. Obviously, it needs to be a leading that’s in line with scripture – I hardly think God will tell me one thing which contradicts what He’s already revealed in His word! I think it can be a lonely place because it’s impossible to engage relationally to people without them wanting something from you, which is fine. Tensions rise, though, when following your conscience means saying “no” to other’s desires or expectations. That’s when you choose between the peace of mind coming from obedience, versus the comfort of approval coming from those you’d prefer to be on good terms with. And while I’m the first to admit I’d love making everyone happy, I know there’s no way to live with any sort of integrity if you’re forever keeping the peace.
Sometimes our decisions are met with applause; sometimes the “boos” come from all sides, hurting us and encouraging us to reconsider our ways, cave to general opinion, and make nice. But I like the way Paul put it: “If it be possible, as much as lieth within you, live peaceably with all.” (Romans 12:18)
That’s preferable, but not always possible. Life’s not too nice that way – it will, at times, force a choice. When it does, God grant each of us the courage to value His will, and our obedience to it, over the approval of man. One brings comfort; the other peace.
And – hint, hint – He is not called the Prince of Comfortable Living.
