How does this happen? The first few years of my spiritual re-awakening were also 'years I spent in vanity and pride'. In my case, when I sing that well known hymn, I am singing about the time AFTER I connected with my Saviour, not before.
I have always looked at my late teens as a turn-a-round point in my life. It was the late sixties. Everyone was on a search of some sort. That's the time I felt that God turned my life around. It had been going nowhere; yet I knew that there was a purpose to life. I had just been too laid back to go after it.
I was a miner in Thompson, Manitoba, and through a series of circumstances, I dedicated my life to the pursuit of God. I met another guy my age who was an authentic example for me. I saw up close that it was possible for someone like me to live for Him.
Yet, I had this radical and impulsive streak. (It was the age of radicalism, remember?) I joined a small group of Christians which was meeting in a home and decided, under its influence, that every other denomination and organized church was somehow substandard. These people claimed that they were the closest thing to a New Testament church that existed. I believed them. No other church seemed to care about a biblical ecclesiology.
We were the elect, the chosen people. We were the ones who did things the New Testament way. We broke bread every Sunday, our ladies wore head coverings (although they wore the pants at home!) and the Holy Spirit led our meetings; there was no presiding officer or pastor. Everything was to be spontaneous and when people asked us what we called ourselves, well, we were just plain Christians. We dared not call ourselves Plymouth Brethren! That's what other people called us. We wanted to be the people who 'gathered to the name of Jesus Christ'.
At the young age of 19, I had become a Pharisee.
I left the small church that I had first attended (although they needed all the help they could get in that mining town). I told the pastor why I was leaving, and I told him how wrong it was to do church the way they were doing church. I left, not regarding the pain and grief I caused in my family or friends.
I lived with my brother and sister in law. I told them how wrong they were.
And I visited with another pastor, and told him how wrong he was. The man's name was George Nelner (His name will come up again). He didn't try to argue much with me. I had my pet verses and I knew how to use them, and I felt very smug as I left his office, because once again it was confirmed in my mind just how right I was and how wrong the whole ecclesiastical system was. (Why it never dawned on me how arrogant I had become, I will never know. I think it had something to do with the illusions that happen when there is a timber in one's eye; see Matthew 7)
Fast forward. I moved from Thompson back to Winnipeg, began fellowshipping with those brethren who were responsible for the effort in Thompson. There was a lot of good Bible teaching there. A lot of people there truly loved the Lord. But there was also an elephant in their living room that no one had the nerve to point out. Group denial is a powerful thing. There were times in those meetings when I had a stirring deep within that said, "This is spiritual pride and it stinks."
I had spiritually distanced myself from my friends and had alienated some of my family with my smug self righteousness. They knew me best, and they did not buy my self-righteous act for a minute; yet they had patience with me; my father most of all. I think my father knew that I just needed time to grow. And with time, I did. I think I know what it must be like coming out of a cult. I was summoned to a meeting one evening. It was with the elders (they really did seem austere and ancient). They read out of the book of Revelation, the passage that tells of the church of Philadelphia. It was the one church that did not receive any criticism from the Lord. Here are the words they read:
"See, I have placed before you an open door that no one can shut. I know that you have little strength, yet you have kept my word and have not denied my name. 9 I will make those who are of the synagogue of Satan, who claim to be Jews though they are not, but are liars-- I will make them come and fall down at your feet and acknowledge that I have loved you. 10 Since you have kept my command to endure patiently, I will also keep you from the hour of trial that is going to come upon the whole world to test those who live on the earth. 11 I am coming soon. Hold on to what you have, so that no one will take your crown. Revelation 3:8-11
They looked at me and asked, "Do you deny that we are the church Jesus was talking about?"
"Yes," I said, "I deny that this is the Philadelphian church."
The next Sunday I was 'read out of the meeting'. Excommunicated.
I walked out of the Gospel Hall that day, dazed but free.
I was free from a systemic kind of pride that overshadowed these groups of people. But pride as a property of our individual natures doesn't surrender that easily. Although this was a good beginning the Lord had to teach me a few lessons yet.
Fast forward another few years. My sister (who is only a year older than I am) had a series of very difficult circumstances that I will not detail in a public blog. She had also experienced the judgmentalism of some Baptist deacons who had shamed her without knowing her circumstances. Through their actions they made it very difficult for her to ever darken the door of a church again. Many Christians understand this dynamic. There are many 'walking wounded' whose church should have been their safe place. Unfortunately the church can also be a place where the deepest wounds occur.
My sister moved from Toronto to Calgary with her two children. There, with a lot of uncertainty, she, with her children and her partner sought out a church, and I was happy to hear that they had found a place where they were accepted and loved. Not long after that I was invited to their wedding.
The man who officiated the wedding and had become their pastor was none other than George Nelner. I am so grateful that my sister did not find a church led by someone with an attitude that I had displayed to George Nelner that day in Thompson. The grace that this man exuded was evident in his speech and his actions. He personified the words that Jesus spoke to the woman caught in adultery (John 8). "Neither do I condemn you. Go, and leave your life of sin."
Oh yes. George Nelner died this last month. He's gone to his heavenly home. I heard news of this, and it began to stir some of these memories in me. I wish that I could have done a better job of apologizing for being such an arrogant twit in his office so many years ago. I should have thanked him for being so gracious to my sister and brother in law. I can only hope they read blogs in heaven. George, this is me, making things right.
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