Devotions

“When he saw the multitudes, he was moved with compassion on them, because they fainted, and were scattered abroad, as sheep having no shepherd. Then saith he unto his disciples, The harvest truly is plenteous, but the labourers are few; pray ye therefore the Lord of the harvest, that he will send forth labourers into his harvest” (Matthew 9:36–38).

Jesus made it plain: “The harvest is ripe, but the laborers are few.” So, why are there so few laborers? Churches today are packed with believers who claim Christ is their very life. Millions of dollars are spent on erecting worship centers everywhere.

The truth is, if we’re not capable of reaping souls—if our lives don’t reflect the transforming power of the gospel we preach—then we have discounted ourselves as laborers. Our walk with Christ should offer proof to the world that God’s promises are true.

As laborers, we are the harvest instruments in the Lord’s hand. In the days of Christ, such an instrument was a scythe, a long, curved, single-edged blade with a long handle. It was forged by a blacksmith, who put it into a fire, then placed it on an anvil, where he pounded and bent it into shape. Then the whole process was repeated again and again, until the cutting edge was filed with a rough-edged surface.

The parallel is clear: God is forging laborers. He isn’t just pounding away at sin. And this forging process explains why the laborers are few. The majority of churchgoers are like the thousands who volunteered to go with Gideon in the Old Testament. God saw fear in many of them, knowing they wouldn’t endure the fire, the pounding, the hard times. And out of the thousands who followed Gideon, only three hundred were chosen.

The same thing happens today. Those who are truly called to harvest are called to endure the refining, shaping fires and the continual hammering. Yet, not many endure.

Scripture shows that David, Job and other Old Testament saints came out of their dark times by remembering God’s faithfulness to past generations. David writes that whenever his heart was desolate, “I remember the days of old; I meditate on all thy works; I muse on the work of thy hands” (Psalm 143:5). Asaph, who wrote twelve of the Psalms, did the same: “I will remember the works of the Lord: surely I will remember thy wonders of old” (77:11). Indeed, Asaph says that all of Israel “remembered that God was their rock” (78:35).

It’s a wonderful blessing to remember all our past deliverances. Deuteronomy tells us, “Thou shalt remember all the way which the Lord thy God led thee. . . . Beware that thou forget not” (Deuteronomy 8:2, 11).

Yet, remembering God’s deliverances was more than just a blessing to the Old Testament saints. It was a necessary discipline. The Israelites devised all sorts of rituals and observances to recall the Lord’s deliverances in their lives.

Likewise today, the Church of Jesus Christ is called to remember God’s past deliverances. We have been given a way to remember that is much better than in Old Testament times. You see, since the days of David and Asaph, God has poured out His Holy Spirit, and the Spirit now abides in our human bodies.

The Holy Spirit comforts us in our dark times and brings to our remembrance God’s past faithfulness. But He does more than that. The Spirit often gives us an understanding of the purpose behind our fiery trials so that our faith will not fail.

When we look at Asaph’s life we see that this devoted, godly man does not share any kind of understanding with us in Psalm 77. Simply put, we don’t know what his dark hour accomplished in his life. All he could tell us was, “Thy way [of God] is in the sea, and thy path in the great waters, and thy footsteps are not known” (Psalm 77:19). Asaph’s conclusion was, “God’s ways aren’t known. I don’t know why He allowed me to fall into such depression and discouragement. I only rejoice that He has made me free.”

It is the Father’s nature to give. A child who grows up in a giving home learns to share, and Jesus has His Father’s giving nature. Now Jesus is beckoning us to carry on the family name through a giving life.

To do this, Christ supplies us with a powerful image at the Last Supper. He lifts up the bread and wine and says, “This bread is my body, broken for you. And this cup is my blood, poured out for you” (see Mark 14:22-23). Note what Jesus then does with the bread: He blesses it, breaks it and gives it. In doing this, Christ demonstrates to us what a poured-out life looks like. It is blessed. It is broken. And it is given away. That’s what it looks like to be a son or daughter of the living God.

This is the central difference between the average human being, whose primary aim is to meet his own needs, and someone who has found out life’s purpose and pours himself out for others. In Christ, we are called to move from a “getting” life to a “giving” life. Jesus empowers this transition for us in the Spirit, replacing our worldly spirit with His own godly Spirit. He tells us, “You have been blessed by Me and now you are meant to give those blessings away.”

This is a glorious theology—but it’s the hardest transition we will ever make in life. Over the past few years the top-selling Christian books have focused on the “getting” side of life. Their central theme is how God longs to bless His children. We know that’s true of God because of His giving nature; He wants to open the windows of heaven to pour out His mighty resources on us. He does indeed want to bless our marriage, our health, our finances. So these best-selling books have their place, and I admit I’ve drawn help from some of them myself.

But there’s something missing in these books. There is something much better than a blessed life of getting—and that is a broken life of giving. A getting life is easy; a giving life is difficult—and rewarding.

Remember, He blessed. He broke. He gave away. Often in the church this process breaks down after the first step. Many Christians don’t get past the blessing part. They don’t allow their lives to be broken before God, so they never make it to the last step—giving. Thus they never see the fulfillment of God’s purpose in blessing us.

We live in a time when a worldwide threat of planned nuclear or chemical explosion looms. The hearts of millions of people are failing them for fear, and the Church of Jesus Christ is being challenged as never before in history. We are looking out at a world that is spinning into chaos.

As I survey all this, I ask: “Where is the voice of authority in Christ? Where are the shepherds, the congregations, the lay Christians who are thinking as Jesus does? Where are those who aren’t pursuing their own agendas, but are seeking the mind of the Lord in these times?”

Those focused only on bettering themselves are drifting away from intimacy with Christ. They may preach Christ, but they know Him less and less. And they’re opening themselves to great temptations.

I ask you: Is your church thriving, yet no one seems to be likeminded with Paul, setting their affections on Christ’s concerns? What about you? When you see someone who’s unemployed, do you pray for him? Do you seek ways to be of assistance, to serve?

Where are the young Timothys today? Where are the young men and women of God who will reject the siren call to success and recognition? Where are those who will set their hearts on fervent prayer, bringing everything in their lives under subjection to become true servants of Christ and His church?

Our prayer should be: “Lord, I don’t want to be focused only on myself in a world that’s spinning out of control. I don’t want to be concerned about my own future. I know You hold my path in Your hands. Please, Lord, give me Your mind, Your thinking, Your concerns. I want to have Your servant’s heart.” 

“Take heed unto thyself, and unto the doctrine (teaching); continue in them: for in doing this thou shalt both save thyself, and them that hear thee” (1 Timothy 4:16).

It was from a jail cell in Rome that Paul wrote to the Philippian church and declared that he had the mind of Christ: “I trust in the Lord Jesus to send Timothy shortly unto you, that I also may be of good comfort, when I know your state” (Philippians 2:19).

This is the thinking, the outworking, of the mind of Christ. Think about it. Here was a pastor sitting in jail, yet he wasn’t thinking of his own comfort, his own hard situation. He was concerned only about the spiritual and physical condition of his people. And he told his sheep, “My comfort will come only when I know you’re doing well, in spirit and body. So I’m sending Timothy to check up on you on my behalf.”

Then Paul makes this alarming statement: “For I have no man like-minded, who will naturally care for your state” (2:20). What a sad statement! As Paul wrote this, the church around him in Rome was growing and being blessed. Clearly, there were godly leaders in the Roman church. But Paul says, “I have no man who shares with me the mind of Christ.” Why was this so?

“For all seek their own, not the things which are Jesus Christ’s” (2:21). Evidently, there was no leader in Rome with a servant’s heart—no one who had cast aside reputation and become a living sacrifice. Instead, everyone was set on pursuing his own interests. None had the mind of Christ. Paul could trust no one to go to Philippi to be a true servant to that body of believers.

Paul’s words here cannot be softened: “Everybody is out for himself. These ministers seek only to benefit themselves. That’s why nobody here can be trusted to naturally care for your needs and hurts—except Timothy.”

As we look around the church today, we see the same thing going on in many congregations. Ministers and parishioners alike are going after the things of this world: money, reputation, materialism, success. They are called to serve the Church of Jesus Christ, but they don’t know the mind of Christ. And Jesus’ mind-set is one of sacrifice, love and concern for others.