I do not do this often....as a matter of fact I have never done this before until today, and I seriously doubt that I will ever do it again. But today, just to see if I could stand it, I looked up a Joel Osteen clip on Youtube.
The clip was five minutes long....I got through two of those minutes before I turned it off.
However, as angered as I was to see a "Christian" leader twist the Bible into something it was never meant to be, I was more angered when I saw the first comment under the video which was:
"I'm a Muslim but i still listen and watch joel osteen on t.v. and youtube! he is so very inspirational!! and when you look at the core and foundation of both islam and christianity, you can find many things to be similar. love it"
Maybe I am mistaken, but I always thought that Christian preaching was about showing the gospel to all peoples no matter how offensive to them it may be, not making sure that all peoples are not offended by what the gospel says. I thought Christian preaching was supposed to speak of the beauty, worth, wrath, love, perfection, and all of the other many glorious attributes of Christ as shown through the Bible, and I also thought that Christian preaching was about showing how unworthy we are to have even heard of His holy being, much less to receive His wonderful grace and mercy.
I thought, as Christians, we were supposed to preach the Word so that our Savior may call His elect to Himself, not that He needs us, but because He commanded us to do so. For " How then will they call on him in whom they have not believed? And how are they to believe in him of whom they have never heard? And how are they to hear without someone preaching?" (Rom. 10:14) I had no idea that Christianity was about giving "sermons" that all religions can relate to.
I thought Christianity was about Christ.
Instead we have so many "Christian" preachers and teachers teaching "tolerance" to be a necessity to love. This concept seems so strange to me
It seems like the big three things that we "must tolerate" in order to display "love" is abortion, homosexuality, and false gospels/religions. But I thought that true love would try to abolish these evils rather than encourage them.
It seems to me that true love would try to rescue these people from theses things that will destroy them. It seems to me that true love would try to show Christ to these people so that He may perform a miraculous act in them in the same way as He has performed such an act in me and in many others.
Not because we deserved it. Not because we earned it. But because He is holy, He is righteous, and for some unfathomable reason He chose to love us.
Do not misunderstand me, I am not saying I am better than these people. I am not trying to point my finger at them and condemn them for being evil while raising myself up above them. If anything I am lower than they are. I, as Paul said, am the chief of sinners. I am flawed. I am not perfect by any means and do not claim to be, but by God's wonderful grace I am saved.
I am nothing, but Christ is everything. I try my best to display Him.
Do I succeed?
I would say no, or not as much as I would like at least. Like I said I am human and I am flawed, but I am striving. I want to fight the good fight. I want to run the race with endurance. I want to persevere in the faith.
All of the earlier mentioned observations are purely observations. By observing I am by no means trying to exalt myself, but rather I am trying to exalt Christ, and I hope and believe I have done so.
Maybe I am mistaken, but I do not think I am.
Excerpt From Spurgeon
(The following is an excerpt from Charles Spurgeon's autobiography. It is something that I have thought about for awhile, but I would have never been able to write it more wonderfully than Spurgeon has here.)
There was a day, as I took my walks abroad, when I came hard by a spot forever engraved upon my memory, for there I saw this friend, my best, my only friend, murdered. I stooped down in sad affright and looked at Him. I saw that His hands had been pierced with rough iron nails, and His feet had been rent in the same way. There was misery in HIs dead countenance so terrible that I scarcely dared to look upon it. His body was emaciated with hunger, His back was red with bloody scourges, and His brow had a circle of wounds about it. Clearly could one see that these had been pierced by thorns. I shuddered, for I had known this friend full well. He never had a fault; He was the purest of the pure, the holiest of the holy. Who could have injured Him? For He never injured any man. All His life long He went about doing good. He had healed the sick, He has fed the hungry, He had raised the dead. For which of these works did they kill Him? He had never breathed out anything but love, and as I looked into the poor sorrowful face, so full of agony and yet so full of love, I wondered within myself, "Where can these traitors live? Who are these that could have smitten such a One as this?" Had they murdered an opressor, we might have forgiven them; had the slain one who had indulged in vice or villainy, it might have been his desert; had it been a murderer and a rebel, or one who had committed sedition, we would have said, "Bury his corpse; justice has at last given him his due." But when you were slain, my best, my only beloved, where lodged the traitors? Let me seize them, and the shall be put to death. If there be torments that I can devise, surely they shall endure them all. Oh, what jealousy, what revenge I felt! If I might but find these murderers, what would I not do with them! And as I looked upon that corpse, I heard a footstep and wondered where it was. I listened, and I clearly perceived that the murderer was close at hand, It was dark, and I groped about to find him. I found that, somehow or other, wherever I put out my hand, I could not meet with him, for he was nearer to me than my hand would go. At last I put my hand upon my breast. "I have you now," said I. For lo! He was in my own heart; the murderer was hiding within my own bosom, Dwelling in the recesses of my inmost soul. Ah! Then I wept indeed, that I, in the very presence of my murdered Master, should be harboring the murderer, and I felt myself most guilty while I bowed over His corpse and sang that plaintive hymn:
'Twas you, my sins, my cruel sins,
His chief tormentors were;
Each of my crimes became a nail,
And unbelief the spear.
- Charles H. Spurgeon
There was a day, as I took my walks abroad, when I came hard by a spot forever engraved upon my memory, for there I saw this friend, my best, my only friend, murdered. I stooped down in sad affright and looked at Him. I saw that His hands had been pierced with rough iron nails, and His feet had been rent in the same way. There was misery in HIs dead countenance so terrible that I scarcely dared to look upon it. His body was emaciated with hunger, His back was red with bloody scourges, and His brow had a circle of wounds about it. Clearly could one see that these had been pierced by thorns. I shuddered, for I had known this friend full well. He never had a fault; He was the purest of the pure, the holiest of the holy. Who could have injured Him? For He never injured any man. All His life long He went about doing good. He had healed the sick, He has fed the hungry, He had raised the dead. For which of these works did they kill Him? He had never breathed out anything but love, and as I looked into the poor sorrowful face, so full of agony and yet so full of love, I wondered within myself, "Where can these traitors live? Who are these that could have smitten such a One as this?" Had they murdered an opressor, we might have forgiven them; had the slain one who had indulged in vice or villainy, it might have been his desert; had it been a murderer and a rebel, or one who had committed sedition, we would have said, "Bury his corpse; justice has at last given him his due." But when you were slain, my best, my only beloved, where lodged the traitors? Let me seize them, and the shall be put to death. If there be torments that I can devise, surely they shall endure them all. Oh, what jealousy, what revenge I felt! If I might but find these murderers, what would I not do with them! And as I looked upon that corpse, I heard a footstep and wondered where it was. I listened, and I clearly perceived that the murderer was close at hand, It was dark, and I groped about to find him. I found that, somehow or other, wherever I put out my hand, I could not meet with him, for he was nearer to me than my hand would go. At last I put my hand upon my breast. "I have you now," said I. For lo! He was in my own heart; the murderer was hiding within my own bosom, Dwelling in the recesses of my inmost soul. Ah! Then I wept indeed, that I, in the very presence of my murdered Master, should be harboring the murderer, and I felt myself most guilty while I bowed over His corpse and sang that plaintive hymn:
'Twas you, my sins, my cruel sins,
His chief tormentors were;
Each of my crimes became a nail,
And unbelief the spear.
- Charles H. Spurgeon
