Gooding, David: How We Build Our Churches

It's a great pleasure for me to come here to breath. On this occasion, I read your invitation as a very, uh, high compliment, because the subject you have chosen is notoriously a thorny subject. Therefore, I comfort myself in the first place that I have been here before, and you know that I'm not a Solomon. I shall not be pretending to be a Solomon in discussing over this weekend with you, in the will of God, subjects which have caused, uh, profound heart searching and sometimes heartache among the centuries of Christian experience. I'm aware that I shall hardly be able to speak one sentence in some parts of this weekend without running up against the deep-seated feelings and convictions of many of you here present. Therefore, I want to say at once that I hope what I shall say, if it be different from what you believe, nevertheless shall be said in such fashion and in such spirit as will be quite evident that I wish nothing to be offensive. And if only you will, uh, give me that, that I may rely upon you to know that I'm not meaning to be offensive, then perhaps I have your permission to be quite frank. That will clear the atmosphere and make it a brotherly discussion. At the same time, I point out to those of you who are visitors to this particular church here, that while they have, in their kindness, invited me to come, I am not speaking for them. They may well disagree with what I say, and uh, all my bad points, at any rate, you mustn't hold them responsible for them. In fact, I'm not going to speak this weekend for any particular church. I am a member of an independent church in Belfast, and none other, as far as I'm aware, and I am not even speaking as representing that church and its view. If they heard what I shall say this weekend, who knows? I'm simply going to speak from what I myself believe the, uh, scriptures. It's a great pleasure for me to come here to breath. On this occasion, I read your invitation as a very, uh, high compliment, because the subject you have chosen is notoriously a thorny subject. Therefore, I comfort myself in the first place that I have been here before, and you know that I'm not a Solomon. I shall not be pretending to be a Solomon in discussing over this weekend with you, in the will of God, subjects which have caused, uh, profound heart searching and sometimes heartache among the centuries of Christian experience. I'm aware that I shall hardly be able to speak one sentence in some parts of this weekend without running up against the deep-seated feelings and convictions of many of you here present. Therefore, I want to say at once that I hope what I shall say, if it be different from what you believe, nevertheless shall be said in such fashion and in such spirit as will be quite evident that I wish nothing to be offensive. And if only you will, uh, give me that, that I may rely upon you to know that I'm not meaning to be offensive, then perhaps I have your permission to be quite frank. That will clear the atmosphere and make it a brotherly discussion. At the same time, I point out to those of you who are visitors to this particular church here, that while they have, in their kindness, invited me to come, I am not speaking for them. They may well disagree with what I say, and uh, all my bad points, at any rate, you mustn't hold them responsible for them. In fact, I'm not going to speak this weekend for any particular church. I am a member of an independent church in Belfast, and none other, as far as I'm aware, and I am not even speaking as representing that church and its views. They might disown me if they heard what I shall say this weekend, who knows? I'm simply going to speak from what I myself believe the, uh, scriptures teach. Wherein so ever you perceive that my understanding is lacking, then I sincerely ask you, in the opportunities that will be available for discussion, that you come along and point it out graciously, if you please, because on occasions I'm a little bit sensitive, uh, and that you do, uh, together with me, pray over these things, that this weekend might be a waiting together upon God, that we all of us might come to obey his word the more intelligently and the more thoroughly. Let us begin then, shall we, by reading from the First Epistle to the Corinthians, and we shall begin to read in chapter three at verse ten. I happen to be reading from the revised version of eighteen eighty one. one Corinthians three ten. According to the grace of God, which was given unto me as a wise master builder, I laid a foundation, and another buildeth thereon. But let each man take heed how he buildeth thereon, for other foundation can no man lay than that which is laid, which is Jesus Christ. But if any man buildeth on the foundation gold, silver, costly stones, wood, hay, stubble, each man's work shall be made manifest, for the day shall declare it because it is revealed in fire. And the fire itself shall prove each man's work of, of what sort it is. If any man's work shall abide which he built thereon, he shall receive a reward. If any man's work shall be burned, he shall suffer loss, but he himself shall be saved, yet so as through fire. Know ye not that ye are a temple of God, and that the Spirit of God dwelleth in you? If any man destroyeth the temple of God, him shall God destroy, for the temple of God is holy, which temple ye are. Let no man deceive himself. If any man thinketh that he is wise among you in this world, let him become a fool that he may become wise. For the wisdom of this world is foolishness with God, for it is written, he that taketh the wise in their craftiness. And again, the Lord knoweth the reasonings of the wise, that they are vain. Wherefore, let no one glory in men, for all things are yours, whether Paul or Apollos or Cephas, or the world or life or death, or things present or things to come, all are yours, and ye are Christ's, and Christ's, Christ is God's. May God himself give us true understanding of his word. We are then this weekend to think together on the subject of the church, and more particularly on those practical matters that concern the way we run our churches. I would like to begin this evening by positing the fundamental question, does it really matter how we run our churches. As we all of us are aware, the ideas on how a church should be run are multitudinous, and the controversies that have raged down the centuries on this very topic have on times been bitter and very frequently confusing. Many people, therefore, feel that it is better that we drop the subject altogether. What, after all, has it contributed to Christian progress? Has it really helped in our spreading of the gospel? Might we not, with some justification, argue that so long as we have a church and it fulfills those practical, uh, needs for which a church should exist, that it doesn't really matter just how we organize ourselves, so long as we get on with the job. And could we not equally well argue that what matters how we run our church well or badly, that our main task as Christians is to go into all the world and preach the gospel to every creature. And that being our major obligation, we should rather concentrate on that, and while not being altogether indifferent how we run our churches, yet nevertheless see to it that we do not get lost in a maze of controversy about things ecclesiastical, forgetting our major task, which is the evangelization of the world. So it seems to me one could argue if one were disposed, and therefore I want to raise this fundamental question: does it really matter how we run our churches? My answer to that, put in brief, would begin like this. It all depends, surely, what we think a church is meant to be and what a church is meant to do. If our church is a kind of a spiritual filling station, then I don't suppose it really matters how the spiritual pumps are laid out, so long as one week we can come to this one and that week to the other one, and so long as we get filled up with our spiritual energies and are able to go forth to our sundry tasks in the world, what matters it really how the particular church at which we filled ourselves with spiritual good things was organized? Or, to choose a more dignified illustration, one goes to one house to be entertained, and one's hostess has her, um, dining room done out in antique fashion. The furniture is re- antique or reproduction. It's paneled oak on the walls, and the table, eh, has no tablecloth but just placemats. Uh, the f- the food is conventional. One enjoys a good dinner. One goes the next week to some other hostess, and her house is a split level affair, a- a- and the decorations are absolutely contemporary, and the food is rather exotic. That also is delicious. It all serves the basic purpose of feeding one anyway, and what matters whether old oak and, uh, period or modern contemporary, so long as one gets fed. And there are some who feel, it would seem from the way they behave, that so long as one gets fed with spiritual fellowship and hears the word of God preached, and one is strengthened therefore for the daily battle of life and for Christian activities, does it really matter? These people would seem to think it doesn't, how the particular church is organized in which you have thus been entertained and blessed. Now, of course, as you will perceive, I don't really, uh, subscribe to that theory. I do think it matters. But I want now to proceed, if I may, by referring to one particular problem that was beginning to be evident in the time of the Apostle Paul, a problem which has remained with us all down the Christian centuries. And I want to show, if I can, from Holy Scripture, how the Apostle viewed it, and why and for what reasons he regarded it as important. The problem is that problem that occupies the first four chapters of the First Epistle to the Corinthians. It was simply the problem of sectarianism, if you like. The problem of dividing up Christians into groups, and the taking for each individual groups of names in a distinctive fashion, distinguishing one group of Christians from another group of Christians. What were the names that they actually took in Corinth, we cannot now tell. For Paul, in his gentlemanly behavior, has chosen to use his own name and Apollos's and Cephas's in order to cover what were the actual names that were being used in Corinth. But there the Christians were some clustering around Paul and some around Cephas, to use the names Paul uses, uh, and some a- a- around Paul. So beginning that unhappy practice that has spread like wildfire throughout Christendom in the succeeding centuries. Now it is, one must confess, become such a common thing nowadays that sometimes one wonders whether it is worth, as I say, raking up the matter again. Does it really matter? If you are a Donatist and I'm a Montanist, uh, you are Orthodox and I'm Lutheran, what does it really matter for voluntary Christians? I think your name is funny, you think my name is most odd. Never mind. What does it matter so long as we agree on the basic thing? Well, let's follow Paul as he comes to this question and see why he thought it mattered tremendously. And what are those arguments that he brings to bear upon the topic? You will notice in the first place that in his eyes the subject is desperately important. Space in Holy Scripture, we might presume, is very scarce. And Paul spends no less than four whole chapters discussing this matter of the taking of names. You'll observe he first mentions it, if you have your Bibles ready to hand, it would help me in the exposition of the passage. Uh, you may notice that he broaches the subject in the first chapter and verse ten. I beseech you, brethren, through the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, that ye all speak the same thing, and that there be no divisions among you, but that ye be perfected together in the same mind and in the same judgment. For it has been signified unto me concerning you, my brethren, by them that are of the household of Chloe, that there are contentions among you. Now this I mean that each one of you says, I am of Paul, I of Apollos, and I of Cephas, and I of Christ. The subject then is broached in these early verses of chapter one. Would you care to notice that he is, um, still talking about this subject when he comes to chapter three? verse, um, two, I fed you with milk, not with meat, for ye were not able to bear it. Nay, not even now are ye able, for ye are yet carnal. For whereas there is among you jealousy and strife, are ye not carnal and walk after the manner of men? For when one saith, I am of Paul, and another, I am of Apollos, are ye not men? What then is Apollos, and what is Paul? So he hasn't forgotten the subject. He's still dealing with it when we come to chapter three. In the verses that we read just a while ago at the end of chapter three, he still pursues the same theme. And on into chapter four. So that if, uh, the Holy Spirit has been pleased to spend four chapters on this particular subject, we gather at once that the Holy Spirit regards it as exceedingly important, and that the ho- uh, the apostle himself is concerned that we shall study the matter carefully and at length. Let me now try and sum up the reasons, as I see them, that Paul gives. And in the first place, I must put this: the matter, the, the question of how we run our churches, and in particular, this question of taking to ourselves names and grouping ourselves in different parties with different labels. This is vitally important. For this reason, that a church is not merely a place where Christians come and find spiritual strength. A church is a temple of God. It is a place where we come to worship God. It is a place where we come to hold fellowship with divine persons. And while we only thinking of our own good and benefit, it is obvious that there is nothing more vitally af- affecting our practical spiritual good than our fellowship with divine persons. Would you not say that it lies at the very heart of Christian experience? This is not some additional luxury that we can afford to indulge in if we have time left over from the preaching of the gospel. This lies at the very heart of our Christianity, our personal relations with divine persons. It spells out our salvation. And because a church is a temple where thus we have fellowship with divine persons, Paul is to argue to us we must be exceedingly careful how we arrange our churches, lest our organization come to restrict and impair our fellowship with these divine persons aforesaid. In a later part of this epistle, namely chapter twelve, and to that chapter perhaps we shall recur on another occasion. Paul points out likewise, and in addition, that a congregation of Christians is in fact the bo- a body. It works as a body. It belongs to the great body of Christ. And he presses his simple analogy to remind us that just as in a human body, our members are interdependent, so is it with, um, the spiritual body of Christ. Now, in our physical bodies, it is obvious that the members are interdependent. My eyes do not like gravy. My stomach thinks gravy is marvelous stuff. My eyes need gravy. Therefore, my stomach takes the gravy and processes it and gets all those vitamins and trace elements and what have you that my eyes need and passes them along to my eyes. So likewise it is in the church. There are many blessings, many accessions of spiritual strength, many shafts of illumination that come not to us directly. They come to us from God, mediated by our fellow believers. How much today have we all enjoyed of the love of God as it has been passed on to us by fellow Christians? How much we owe every single one of us to a vast army of Christians who have prayed and who have taught us, who have suffered for us, who have worked for us. If, therefore, the church is a body, and a good deal of the benefit that God would send down to us, each one, is communicated and mediated to us through other members in that body, it stands to reason once more, and Paul will argue it very strongly, that it is exceedingly important that we give care how we arrange our churches, that all the members might find for performing their tasks, and none of the goodness that God would mediate to us in terms of practical salvation be impeded and choked by the misfortune of our ecclesiastical orga- organization. But tonight, let us content ourselves with these early pleadings of the apostle in chapters one to four. It is obvious that Paul is going to say, and say in the name of the Lord Jesus and with apostolic authority, that we just must not divide ourselves into parties and call ourselves by special names. Not even by the name of Christ, if we intend that somehow to distinguish us from another group of Christians. It seems to me that the plain reading of the English is amply sufficient without my comment to press it home upon us that the apostle says, the Holy Ghost says, the risen Lord says, we must not take names. That someone will object, oh, what's in a name? A rose by any other name would, uh, smell of sweet or something, if I can remember my Shakespeare. What's in a name? Well, let the Holy Apostle answer. In the first place, if I read him right, he says in that paragraph, verse ten to verse seventeen of chapter one, um that we must not take a name to distinguish ourselves from other groups of Christians. We must not take names and divide our loyalties around this famous man or that famous doctrine. For this reason that the taking of such names in the first place detracts from the unique glory of our Lord. Oh, how strongly and indignantly he almost spits it out. You call yourself after me, Paul, saying I am a Paul? My brethren, was Paul crucified for you? No, indeed not. This is not a question of where one hostess is as good as another. Paul may be a holy apostle. He may have suffered prison and torture to bring the gospel to. Maybe he is their spiritual advisor in God for the time being, but between Paul, who is merely a minister of Christ Jesus, and the blessed Lord himself, there is an immeasurable gulf of a difference. It is a wonderful thing to be allowed to come and tell others about the cross of Christ. An infinitely different thing to be the Christ who suffered on that cross. It is an insult. It is derogatory to this unapproachable dignity and glory of Christ. That anybody should take another name, even though that name be the name of an high apostle. Or would you say this is old stuff? What does it really matter? Don't we use names just for convenience sake? I want to be able to describe you to my friends, and I have to say, well, you know that man, that man, that, uh, you know, well, in the end I got to call you something, so I call you something. And it's only a matter of convenience. What does it really matter? But let's test out the argument with a homely illustration. Here is Mr. Brown. And Mr. Brown, being a bachelor, has the good fortune one of these days to have a friend, Mr. Smith. And Mr. Smith, in the kindness of his heart, one of these days introduces a very eligible young lady to Mr. Brown. And the expected happens, uh, Mr. Brown marries this good lady. Presently, um, he he some six months after they're married, he comes across one of her visiting cards that she's currently using. And if you please, on the card is Mrs. Smith. Funny, uh, it's Mrs. Smith. I thought it was my wife's handbag I got hold of, and this is her visiting card, but it's not Mrs. Brown on it, it's Mrs. Smith on it. Then he goes along to inquire, uh, who's this Mrs. Smith, my dear? Oh, she says me. No one knows. He thinks perhaps his wife has taken leave of her senses or something. Brown, you mean? The printer's made a mistake. No, Smith, you see, it was Smith that brought me to you and introduced me to you. What husband would do it? The thing is so ridiculous. I, I, I... It's nonsensical to tell a story like that, isn't it? But let me argue with the man. Oh, but my dear fellow, what's in a name? Does it really matter if she calls herself Mrs. Smith? It's only a name anyway. We know that she's your wife. It would be ludicrous. Would you allow me to improve on it a little bit? Of course, she wouldn't be so senseless as to call herself Mrs. Smith when all the while she's Mrs. Brown, but wouldn't it be nice if she called herself Mrs. Brown Smith? Sort of hyphenated name. Do you know, Mrs. Smith, really, but just to distinguish the fact that she was brought to Mrs. Smith, uh, by Mr. Brown. But I think it's absurd. When Jesus Christ, our Lord, has died for you, my brother. Suppose it was Luther that first introduced you to the Savior. Will you call yourself Lutheran? And say it doesn't matter because, well, it's only a name? As I read the pleadings of the apostle in the name of Christ, Christ himself feels exceedingly strongly. He had it in his mind that his people down the centuries would be plain Christian. And wherever Christians went, only the name of our blessed Lord would have been known. How shall we justify ourselves to him if to his name we have added other names. Then if I read the apostle's second paragraph right, the paragraph that proceeds, perhaps two paragraphs according to your reckoning, from verse eighteen of chapter one to verse thirty one of that same chapter, it can be summed up thus that this taking of names other than the name of our blessed Lord. This dividing our loyalties around Christian men or doctrines. It frustrates the deliberate strategy of God. Paul begins in verse eighteen what some people have thought to be a digression. It seems to me rather that he is still talking about the same theme. But in order to convince us that this matter of taking of names is exceedingly important, Paul goes back to God's fundamental strategy in the conversion of men, in the preaching of the gospel. He says, the word of the cross is to them that are perishing foolishness, and to us which are being saved, it is the power of God, for it is written, I will destroy the wisdom of the wise, and the prudence of the prudent will I reject. Where then is the wise? Where is the scribe? Where is the disputer of this world? Hath not God made foolish the wisdom of the world? For seeing that in the wisdom of God, the world through its wisdom knew not God, it was God's good pleasure through the foolishness of preaching to say then believe. We ought to observe that, of course, preaching as a method is not a foolish method. Paul uses a word which means not the method of preaching, but the message that is preached. You will observe in the words, says Paul, that the Christian message of the gospel, as a message in its content, does seem foolish. Anyone who has read any of the Greek philosophers or any modern philosopher will see at once what Paul means. The Christian gospel that comes to us and tells us about a crucified Christ is not only double Dutch, it is sheer foolishness. If it be offered as a something that will heal the world's troubles, why haven't philosophers for centuries puzzled their brains with the most intricate of arguments, trying to search for an answer to something that will make sense of life and heal the human difficulty? And does the apostle think that he will heal it all at once with a message about a crucified man upon a cross? It seems nonsensical. So also did it seem a stumbling block to the Jew. But notice, says Paul, please notice that this isn't because God, uh, tripped up or didn't, uh, realize what he was doing. The apparent foolishness of this message of the gospel is deliberate on God's part. He wants it so. The world's methods have not worked. The philosophers have not given us the answer, all honor to them. Jewish religion, God-given itself, has not supplied us with the answer. And now, therefore, God deliberately has chosen a message that will seem foolish. He wants it that way. Moreover, says Paul, you behold your calling. How that not many wise after the flesh, not many mighty, not many noble are called, but God chose the foolish things of the world that he might put to shame them that are wise, and God chose the weak things of the world that he might put to shame the things that are strong. And the base things of the world and the things that are despised did God choose, yea, and the things that are not, that he might bring to naught the things that are, that no flesh should glory before God. But of him are you in Christ Jesus, who was made unto us wisdom from God. Let us get those two emphases. Of him are you in Christ Jesus, who was made to us wisdom from God. Do you get the run of the argument? Not only is the gospel message through which you were saved an apparently foolish message, but you, uh, who have been saved, if I might, without any, uh, offense intended, uh, quote the apostles' words at you, just have a look a moment at your election, my good brethren. God hasn't chosen many, not even in this congregation, of the world's first tip-top ten philosophers, has he? Why not? You happy to put yourself where Paul put you for a moment? God has chosen the weak things of this world. Why has he done so? He has done so deliberately. He wants it to be evident to all concerned that if a man is in Christ, then the credit goes completely to God for putting him in Christ. Of God are you in Christ Jesus. It wasn't Paul's logic. It wasn't Apollos's eloquence. It wasn't Peter's practicality. That could be given the credit for the fact that these Corinthians are now regenerate people and are in Christ. Credit must go solely to God for putting them in Christ. How glad those Corinthians ought to be about it too. You see, after all is said and done, if it were the fact that those Corinthians had become Christians and were now in Christ because of Paul's logic, that is to say, they had heard him discussing with the Epicureans and the Stoics maybe, and whereas they themselves hadn't been able to think up any, uh, philosophy or answers to the, um, true philosophies of their fellows, when Paul came along, he was such a brilliant brain, uh, that he twizzled the old Stoics around his little finger and made the Epicureans look, uh, kindergarten children, and by the brilliance of his logic overwhelmed these Corinthians and converted them to Christianity. Well, of course, when Paul went and the aforesaid, uh, Corinthians were left, they'd only need another brilliant logician to come along, wouldn't they? And they'd have been left Christianity and into something else. Gnosticism, perhaps. I will have you know, says Paul, that God has deliberately, uh, uh, uh, chosen his strategy so that your salvation shall be demonstrably of God, and in the last analysis, of God alone. And because God has deliberately chosen this strategy, Paul is arguing, we are not to take names that give the credit to Paul, Apollos, or Cephas, and obscure from us the fact that it is of God and solely of God that we are in Christ Jesus. I used to live at one stage in County Durham. No one can live in County Durham, I submit, without being impressed constantly by the tremendous work that God did through our good Methodist Christians in those parts. Almost every little mining village has its two, sometimes three, and very often very large Methodist church. And it's deli- a delight to read about that great movement of God's Holy Spirit that must have swept thousands, if not tens of thousands, into the kingdom of God during the last century and the beginning of this. There used to be a very famous preacher in that, of that persuasion in County Durham, of whom my friends of all sorts used to tell me, uh, now and again. But he was reputed to have been walking down the street in one of the mining villages, uh, uh, of those parts one day, uh, it being about the noon hour when the pubs closed, and a man came staggering up the street, the worst for wear, and said, oh, Mr. So-and-so, are you one of your converts? He said, I thought you were. If you had been Christ's convert, you wouldn't have been in that statement, And eh. be. But if it is God that puts us in Christ, let our very organization and the name we give our church witness to that fact. Why should we, by our name, put the credit elsewhere. In the third place, it seems to me, as we come to chapter two of this passage, Paul argues that the taking of names, the dividing of Christianity into several groups, clustered round famous men, or maybe famous doctrines, is not only itself a symptom of carnality, but by its effect leads on to a withered spiritual experience, because it diverts our attention from the Holy Spirit of God. Paul, again, I want to submit to you, hasn't forgotten his original subject as he comes into this chapter too. Some expositors say he has. But now he points out that whereas in the gospel he preaches a message which is apparently foolish, nevertheless, among them that are perfect, he does preach wisdom. There are deeper things of God. And I repeat, they are not meant to be sort of, uh, additional and deluxe courses in Christianity that if you had the time, you could go in for if you please. They are meant, of course, for every Christian. And they are courses of spiritual wisdom. They're not, uh, content merely with the milk of the gospel. They are the stronger meat, to use Paul's own phrase. And of course, if we would be vigorous Christians and not mere babes in Christ, we need to assimilate this stronger spiritual food, this wisdom. But herein is a problem. How will a man understand these things? The princes of this world cannot understand this spiritual wisdom, says Paul, for a very simple reason. No man knoweth the things of a man, save the spirit of a man which is in him. If I want to find an illustration of that, I normally refer to my dog, or my dog has long since been dead, but, um, I do find him very helpful. No man knows the things of a man, save the spirit of a man. There are things about you, of course, that your dog does understand. There are some things that you can share with your dog, beef steaks, for instance. They have a similar effect on your dog and on you. But if it came to an oil painting by Rembrandt, you might station your dog in front of it for a half an hour, and he would still look silly and wag his tail or growl or some other inappropriate reaction. Why? Because he just hasn't got your spirit. The only way you'll ever make that dog appreciate Rembrandt is to give him of your spirit. Similarly, there are in the things of God things that can only be understood by God's giving us his Holy Spirit. Oh, I know it's lovely to go out into your garden and watch the sunset and feel all moved and stirred as you watch God's handiwork. There are some things about God that the unregenerate man can enjoy, are there not? The colors of a sunset, the beauties of a morning frost, the wonder of the flowers and the song of the birds. But let it not prompt us to that, uh, rather empty nonsense. One is nearer to God's heart in the garden than anywhere else on earth. Of course, there are things far beyond beef steaks for you. These deeper things of God, but like God's very heart, these can only be understood by a man if that man has received God's spirit. And God has given us his spirit, says the apostle, all of us who have trusted the Savior. That we might understand these lovely things. The natural eye hath not seen them, nor the ear heard them, neither hath it entered into the heart of man, whatsoever things God has prepared for them that love him, but unto us God has revealed them by his spirit. But now, if we would enjoy them, we must make up our minds to be spiritual men and women, and to give place and opportunity to that selfsame Holy Spirit. These Corinthians, you might think, possessed of many spiritual gifts, coming behind in no spiritual gift, in fact, according to chapter one. um you might have expected them to have been in a state of commendably advanced spiritual progress, enjoying the deep things of God. Why is it then that at the time of writing, Paul has to tell them that they are simply babes, carnal babes, only able to take the very elementary milk? Why is it? Well, just here, we come back to our subject. Their carnality, their merely human outlook has led them astride. They have gone off following Apollos, or maybe is it Cephas or Paul or somebody or other. And getting their eyes off the source of their spiritual illumination and wisdom, and onto men who were at best but the vehicles and channels of that revelation, they have found the stream dry up, and their own spiritual powers atrophy. If I wanted to be sympathetic and make excuses, I think I could think of some, couldn't you? I suspect there were some in the church, and they said, you know, Paul is our man. We've got nothing against Peter, of course, but you know, he didn't have much education, did he? Uh, fisherman, actually, and he's a dear brother. But, you know, he can't hold a candle to Paul. You really get some deep teaching from Paul, more philosophic turn of mind, you know, tremendous, uh, grasp of Old Testament scripture in such a wonderfully profound way of, uh, uh, uh, extricating the mysteries of God. Paul is our man. There are others who say, yes, yes, yes, yes. Well, do you like Paul? Well, actually, we find a bit of a bore, you know, it goes on a long time anyway, does Paul. And, uh, uh, you know, his speech is contemptible. He hums and he hars, and his grammar is all at sea. Uh, we prefer ourselves upon us, you know, a marvelous preacher. One minute he makes you cry, the next minute he makes you weep. He can hold a congregation spellbound if you don't feel the time going by. Apollos is our man. And I would say, yes, but you know, it's all right, but what we want is something practical, helps you in everyday life, you know. I mean, after all, when you listen to Paul, what do you get out of it anyway? A lot of his knowledge. Uh, now what you want is something practical, and that's what Peter gets us, you know. Go anywhere to get Peter. I can't tell you if that was the kind of reasoning that led them in those early days to group themselves in these factions. Or was it half understood truths? Paul putting an emphasis here and somebody putting an emphasis there, and people, instead of maintaining the balance, going to one extreme or to other, I don't know what. But this is explicitly stated, that this lies at the center of their poverty-stricken spiritual experience. And instead of giving prominence in their church to the Holy Ghost to use whatsoever and whomsoever servant he would, they have got their eyes off the Holy Ghost and his presidency and got it onto the vessel, and inevitably that way leads out into the wilderness of spiritual barrenness. If we are not sensitive, then the Holy Spirit, the divine persons are sensible. They will not allow us permanently to get ourselves off center, diverted from the center whither our spiritual eyes should look. For it would be plain damage to our soul to substitute the most saintly servant for the divine persons themselves. Then as he comes into chapter three, and our good chairman gave me permission to go on till nine o'clock. Paul has yet one more argument to bring. He says, brethren, allow me to remind you, as you meet at a church, you are a temple of the Holy Ghost. I laid the foundation, Jesus Christ, no other foundation can ever be laid. You each one build thereon, but do take care how you build. It is possible to build well, to build in rich and solid materials into your local church. It is possible to build badly and to build in cheap and worthless elements into your local church. Remember, please, says Paul, that this church of God is thrice holy. It is built upon the foundation of our blessed Lord himself. It is owned by God the Father, indwelled by the Holy Spirit. And in sum, it is God's church and not your church. So that should a man say to himself, but I'm sorry, Paul, I beg leave to disagree. I think it's a very good thing that we take names to ourselves and call ourselves, what, Donatists or Orthodox or whatever you will. I think it's good. Then I fancy Paul will say to you, but please, sir, before you do it, would you remember it isn't your church to do it with anyway? It's God's church. And God says don't. Wouldn't that be an end of the matter? I go into many homes, and over the years I discover how tolerant people are and how accommodating to the wishes of their guests. What endless trouble they'll go to, how they will put themselves out to accommodate the guest and his peculiar ideas and comforts. I suppose I came to your home to stay the weekend, and the first night I was there, I walked into the lounge, got hold of the radiogram, shifted it across the other side, and shunted the piano around to a different place. You'd think that was a charming eccentricity on my part, wouldn't you? I hope you would have the patience not to say anything. But suppose when you came down tomorrow morning, you found that I'd moved all the lounge furniture into the dining room and all the dining room furniture into the kitchen. You would cease to regard it as an eccentricity then. Your sense of being the owner of a house would have been most grievously offended. And shall we come into a church, into an assembly, into a congregation, and treat it as if it were our present. You feel strongly, perhaps, someone here feels strongly that it ought to be named. My good friend, God feels strongly that it oughtn't to be. May courtesy ought to have decided the issue long since, but if it be not enough, hear the solemn warnings of God's word. For if we would be fair to this solemn passage, we must read it into the context. This gold, silver, and precious stone, this wood, hay, and stubble. Doubtless the parable extends throughout all our activities and can be applied generally, but in this context, its first and immediate application is on this very matter of take. Dividing Christians up into groups, calling them by sundry labels that are less than those that belong to all Christians indiscriminately. In that context, they come. And God says, please don't take a name like that. Or if we do, then God calls it rubbish. And warns us that if we build into our churches wood, hay, and stubble of sectarianism, then at the solemn judgment seat of Christ, we shall see God's indignation. Burn up the rubbish that we have built. And finally, it degrades the children of God. Paul hasn't finished his argument, his argumentations. I better finish mine. Let no man deceive himself, he says. If any man thinketh that he is wise among you in this world, let him become a fool. If you say, but, uh, you know this matter of taking of names, it's not only innocent, but it's positively helpful. I mean, after all, in the poli- political world, where should we be if we didn't know whether the speaker was a liberal or a conservative? I don't know what you have down here. I'm sorry, I don't know the terms. Um, or a Labour man. You want to know where the man stands, what party he belongs to, surely. Isn't that the way, uh, political thinking is carried on? I don't agree with the conservative or the liberal, as the case may be, but, um, I respect him, and I like to know that he's liberal, and I'm not ashamed to be, uh, whatever I am. And, uh, do you know it is by mutual arguments and you being your party and I being mine, and you arguing for your party's views and I arguing for my party's views that solely contribute to the progress of political thought and the running of the place, so long as we have a sense in all our party politics to be gentlemanly. Well, you can, you can justify political systems that way. But then, says the Holy Spirit, now if a man is wise in this world, do you think that's a good method? Do you think that's a wise way? How about, says God, now when it comes to my things, be a fool and do it my way. Indeed, says Paul, the Lord knoweth the reasonings of the wise, that they are vain and fruitless. Only God's ways in the end are wise, and only God's ways in the end leave even his people with their proper dignity. Wherefore, let no one glory in men, for all things are yours, whether Paul or Apollos or Cephas or the world or life or death or things present or things to come, all are yours. We are Christ's and Christ is God's. If then all are yours, why do you take the name of just one? Here is a little prince and his little sister, a princess. They're walking one day in the grounds of the palace. And a little boy, of course he's only about seven— he's mad on the gardener. Do you know the gardener, Jones? He's got the latest lawnmower, ransoms, I'm sure. It's a wonderful thing that you run around, you know, sit on the seat and you can go around guiding. And the little prince thinks Jones is the last man in the world. He's just it. He loves it when Jones lets him get up on the seat and takes him for a ride in the grass box, maybe. He says nobody like Jones. His little sister is six. She's not interested in lawnmowers. She thinks the seamstress is a veritable queen of the world. Her lovely dresses she makes. One day His Majesty comes out onto the lawns, and he sees, uh, the seven-year-old just about pulling the hair out of his sister princess. What's it all about? Why, uh, six-year-old has maintained the point that the same stress is the best. And, uh, seven-year-old is saying not so in your life or won't have it said, Jones the gardener is the best. Now what shall the king do? It says, my dears, you mustn't fight like that. These men are good men, but you know they're only my servants. And I have those men there cutting the lawn for me and for you. And I have those lovely ladies inside, and they make dresses for you, and they do our shirts. And we've got all sorts of servants. Do you know, all those servants are there for you, all of them. You mustn't get so taken up with one that you're prepared to fight with each other over the hour. It's all yours, and all the mourners, and all the palace buildings, and all the palace grounds, it's all yours. But don't start fighting and making sides over this particular servant or the other. Would it not demean the sons of a king to do like that? Oh, thank God for that wonderful servant of God, Paul. How much we owe him here, particularly in Europe. Thank God for that courageous soul, Luther, how much we every man and woman owe to him. When shall we finish praising God for dear old Wesley and the vast contribution he made? We thank God for him. We sing his hymns yet and are helped thereby. But if any of those three men were with us, would not they say, but who are we but servants? You mustn't take our names. For Paul is yours, and Luther is yours, and Wesley is yours, and all the other many thousands of servants that God has had, they're all yours. Please don't demean yourselves by calling yourself by any other name than the name which is alone the mark of ownership. Ye are Christ. And maybe if we went home tomorrow determined to do away with our labels as Christians, we should find those labels are not merely labels. They are the outward evidence of bigger and deeper problems of our p- our special ideas on organization. Therefore, if the Lord will, in the coming lecture, I hope to try and say something about those deeper problems. But enough, perhaps, if first God challenges us over this weekend with a simple thing. If we say, but what is a name? It's only a little thing. Then, my good friend, it would only be a little thing to scrap it, wouldn't it? And if Christ prefers it that way, wouldn't we be prepared to do a little thing? God bless his word and cause us to think thereon for his mercy.