Monday, July 11. 2005
Spiritual Schizophrenia
Are we evangelical Christians afflicted with spiritual schizophrenia? Let's take a few minutes to think about it.
On Sunday we sing, "I serve a living Savior."
On Monday we act as if He is dead.
On Sunday we sing, "My Jesus I love Thee, I know Thou art mine, for Thee all the pleasures of sin I resign."
On Monday we pitch our tents as near as we can to Sodom.
On Sunday we sing, "O the best book to read is the Bible."
On Monday we spend our time poring over Sears' Catalogue.
On Sunday we sing, "He's the Lily of the Valley, the bright and morning star. He's the fairest of ten thousand to my soul."
On Monday we listen to a godless media cursing His name, and attacking His attributes, and we never lift our voices in protest.
On Sunday we sing, "Rescue the perishing, care for the dying, snatch them in pity from sin and the grave."
On Monday we do not care enough to even hand out a tract.
On Sunday we sing, "Stand up! Stand up for Jesus, ye soldiers of the cross."
On Monday we are ashamed to identify ourselves with someone who is standing up for Jesus, especially if that person lives within a hundred miles of us.
On Sunday we sing, "Redeemed! How I love to proclaim it."
On Monday we chicken out before our next door neighbor.
On Sunday we sing "None of self, and all for Thee."
On Monday we are so tied up in our own little box, we wouldn't take ten minutes to phone some lonely shut-in, who is pining in loneliness for a little bit of love.
On Sunday we sing, "I love to tell the story. 'Twill be my theme in glory."
On Monday we are either too cowardly or too proud to tell the story to our own relatives.
On Sunday we sing, "Dare to be a Daniel, dare to stand alone."
On Monday we brand anyone who dares to stand alone as a troublemaker.
On Sunday we sing "Dearer than all, dearer than all, He is my King, before Him I fall."
On Monday we take up our cudgels to defend our worldly churches, and apostate denominations.
On Sunday we sing, "Let goods and kindred go."
On Monday we expend all our time and strength polishing our materialistic gods, and compromising with our kindred.
On Sunday we sing, "I'm not ashamed to own my Lord, nor to defend His cause."
On Monday we tremble lest some religious fanatic should talk to us about His cause on our party-line.
On Sunday we sing, "Take the world but give me Jesus."
On Monday we spend our afternoons watching sensual soap operas, and our evenings watching the games.
On Sunday we sing, "Take my silver and my gold, not a mite would I withhold."
On Monday we wouldn't buy a postage stamp to write to some lonely missionary.
On Sunday we sing, "Faith of our fathers, living still, we will be true to thee till death."
On Monday we take sides with the apostates against anyone in our midst who is contending for that faith today.
On Sunday we sing, "All to Jesus I surrender."
On Monday it would require a blast of dynamite to uproot us out of our regular routine.
On Sunday we sing "Not for ease or worldly pleasure, nor for fame my prayer shall be."
On Monday we blow our budget buying that status symbol which will up us on the social ladder.
On Sunday we sing, "O that old rugged cross, so despised by the world, has a wondrous attraction for me."
On Monday we court the favor of a godless world, cower before it, and boast about the good rapport we have with it.
On Sunday we sing, "I serve a living Savior."
On Monday we act as if He is dead.
On Sunday we sing, "My Jesus I love Thee, I know Thou art mine, for Thee all the pleasures of sin I resign."
On Monday we pitch our tents as near as we can to Sodom.
On Sunday we sing, "O the best book to read is the Bible."
On Monday we spend our time poring over Sears' Catalogue.
On Sunday we sing, "He's the Lily of the Valley, the bright and morning star. He's the fairest of ten thousand to my soul."
On Monday we listen to a godless media cursing His name, and attacking His attributes, and we never lift our voices in protest.
On Sunday we sing, "Rescue the perishing, care for the dying, snatch them in pity from sin and the grave."
On Monday we do not care enough to even hand out a tract.
On Sunday we sing, "Stand up! Stand up for Jesus, ye soldiers of the cross."
On Monday we are ashamed to identify ourselves with someone who is standing up for Jesus, especially if that person lives within a hundred miles of us.
On Sunday we sing, "Redeemed! How I love to proclaim it."
On Monday we chicken out before our next door neighbor.
On Sunday we sing "None of self, and all for Thee."
On Monday we are so tied up in our own little box, we wouldn't take ten minutes to phone some lonely shut-in, who is pining in loneliness for a little bit of love.
On Sunday we sing, "I love to tell the story. 'Twill be my theme in glory."
On Monday we are either too cowardly or too proud to tell the story to our own relatives.
On Sunday we sing, "Dare to be a Daniel, dare to stand alone."
On Monday we brand anyone who dares to stand alone as a troublemaker.
On Sunday we sing "Dearer than all, dearer than all, He is my King, before Him I fall."
On Monday we take up our cudgels to defend our worldly churches, and apostate denominations.
On Sunday we sing, "Let goods and kindred go."
On Monday we expend all our time and strength polishing our materialistic gods, and compromising with our kindred.
On Sunday we sing, "I'm not ashamed to own my Lord, nor to defend His cause."
On Monday we tremble lest some religious fanatic should talk to us about His cause on our party-line.
On Sunday we sing, "Take the world but give me Jesus."
On Monday we spend our afternoons watching sensual soap operas, and our evenings watching the games.
On Sunday we sing, "Take my silver and my gold, not a mite would I withhold."
On Monday we wouldn't buy a postage stamp to write to some lonely missionary.
On Sunday we sing, "Faith of our fathers, living still, we will be true to thee till death."
On Monday we take sides with the apostates against anyone in our midst who is contending for that faith today.
On Sunday we sing, "All to Jesus I surrender."
On Monday it would require a blast of dynamite to uproot us out of our regular routine.
On Sunday we sing "Not for ease or worldly pleasure, nor for fame my prayer shall be."
On Monday we blow our budget buying that status symbol which will up us on the social ladder.
On Sunday we sing, "O that old rugged cross, so despised by the world, has a wondrous attraction for me."
On Monday we court the favor of a godless world, cower before it, and boast about the good rapport we have with it.
So while the church wallows in apostasy
And the world heads for damnation, we settle for singing:
Onward Christian soldiers
Marching as to war
Within the safety of our sanctuaries
Until time shall be no more.
My Heavenly Father: I confess that I have substituted Sunday ritualism for daily Biblical Christianity, and that I am a big, religious phony. O God, deliver me from my self-deception.
Thy Word says that God is a Spirit, and those that worship Him must worship Him in spirit and in truth. O God, I confess that my worship has been little more than hollow humbuggery. I confess that I have been worshipping Thee with my lips while my heart has been far from Thee.
Forgive my play-acting, forgive my pretense of worship. Forgive my namby-pamby sentimental devotion, my canting ritualism and my sham piety.
I confess my moral insensibility, my spiritual inertia, and my supine professionalism.
O God cleanse me from my sin. Deliver me from being an evangelical schizophrenic. Enable me to have Thee, and Thee only as my goal. Enable me to accept Thy Word as final authority in my daily life, and not my own reasoning.
Enable me to submit myself daily to Thee to believe Thee. Enable me to submit myself daily to Thee to obey Thee. O God, unite my heart to praise Thy Name, and make me a genuine Christian for Jesus' sake. Amen.
And the world heads for damnation, we settle for singing:
Onward Christian soldiers
Marching as to war
Within the safety of our sanctuaries
Until time shall be no more.
My Heavenly Father: I confess that I have substituted Sunday ritualism for daily Biblical Christianity, and that I am a big, religious phony. O God, deliver me from my self-deception.
Thy Word says that God is a Spirit, and those that worship Him must worship Him in spirit and in truth. O God, I confess that my worship has been little more than hollow humbuggery. I confess that I have been worshipping Thee with my lips while my heart has been far from Thee.
Forgive my play-acting, forgive my pretense of worship. Forgive my namby-pamby sentimental devotion, my canting ritualism and my sham piety.
I confess my moral insensibility, my spiritual inertia, and my supine professionalism.
O God cleanse me from my sin. Deliver me from being an evangelical schizophrenic. Enable me to have Thee, and Thee only as my goal. Enable me to accept Thy Word as final authority in my daily life, and not my own reasoning.
Enable me to submit myself daily to Thee to believe Thee. Enable me to submit myself daily to Thee to obey Thee. O God, unite my heart to praise Thy Name, and make me a genuine Christian for Jesus' sake. Amen.
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