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When I First Trusted Him
By Lance Cameron Kidwell
Revelation 2:4-5
"Nevertheless I have this against you, that you
have left your first love. Remember therefore from where
you have fallen; repent and do the first works, or else
I will come to you quickly and remove your lampstand from
its place-- unless you repent.”
2 Corinthians 11:3
But I fear, lest somehow, as the serpent deceived Eve
by his craftiness, so your minds may be corrupted from
the simplicity that is in Christ.
Do you remember when you first fell in love with the
Master? Those times of new found intimacy, days of discovery,
hours of tears, of joy, of sobering heaviness. Do you
remember the feelings you associated with Him… the
longing, the astonishment, the wonder of it all. Do you
remember the simplicity of Christ? When it was nothing
but Him and you – no ministry, no projects, no arguments,
no factions. Just Jesus.
As your Christian walk develops a subtle shift presents
itself. It seems to be the road to maturity, to fruitfulness
perhaps. Your Christianity begins to become more complex
and involved. At first it may be a doctrinal allegiance
– the oneness of God, the importance of Baptism in
Jesus name, perhaps something as simple as the plan of
Salvation or a principle of holiness. It’s not that
these things are bad or even unnecessary. But your walk
with him almost imperceptibly reaches out and includes
this third party. It’s now you and Jesus and this
thing. As time wears on maybe a ministry or church duty
joins the party, perhaps identification with an organization
or faction. Your passion for Jesus now is not so much
a personal commitment and mutual love – but an allegiance,
a political party line, or even a “class.”
All of us have been here. When walking with him is more
like marching in a parade, displaying your colors and
keeping in time. When witnessing is almost a campaign,
just glad-handing, empty rhetoric, trying to secure another
“vote.” When holiness is an issue not a process.
When prayer is a practice not a passion. When “Christian
Love” is a slogan and a tool. It is here that our
religion begins to fail us. It is here our feet leave
the ground and we float into the ether of theory and jargon.
Our life stops changing and our innocence is replaced
by an almost dishonest pragmatism. Our heart stirs not
when the preacher paints the ghastly portrait of Calvary,
but rather when he touches our “pet issue” or
routs us hard enough to stimulate a refreshing breath
of conviction. Conviction that disturbs the parched ground
of our heart and recalls the living faith which once grew
there.
Oh, to have only Him again!!! Not Jesus and doctrine,
not Jesus and politics, not Jesus and social action! Just
Jesus! Oh, to shed the masks and sheep’s clothing.
To stand before Him as a simple child, to crawl into that
familiar lap of intimacy and clutch his robes tightly
to our tear-stained faces!
What does it take to remember the simplicity of Christ?
The scripture in Revelation gives us an answer from the
Master’s lips. “Remember from where you
have fallen, repent and do the first works…”
Remember from where you have fallen
First, we must recall in our minds that place we once
were. Like lost travelers retrace our steps until we can
clearly see the place. When I go through this I remember
those early days. When as a boy I lay on my stomach listening
to Keith Green records in my bedroom. When without knowledge
or training, I stumbled about as I tried to do anything
for Him. I wrote articles, not because I had anything
particularly profound to say, but because I wanted to
do something, anything, for Jesus. I prayed with an unlearned
mouth. I didn’t know what I was supposed to say,
or how to say it – I just said whatever my heart
seemed to say in whatever words seemed to fit. They weren’t
always beautiful or even coherent prayers – but I
meant every word! I didn’t care how long or how short
I prayed. I didn’t particularly care if I covered
everything that needed to be prayed for, or that fit on
a chart. I just talked to Him. I believed that he was
listening. I believed He was right there hanging on every
word.
When I first trusted Him, I knew my inadequacies. I didn’t
question my fitness for the task; I knew I couldn’t
perform it! But I believed promises. I depended on Him
like a child clings to his mothers arm. At the same time,
however, I wasn’t afraid to say anything or do anything
that I thought he’d want me to do. I figured if I
could do nothing without Him that just eliminated any
restriction on what He could do through me! It didn’t
seem embarrassing or silly to shoot for the stars. Failure
was basically a normal routine and assumed as a part of
growing.
It’s this place of innocence and desire that I remember.
When I thought I was growing from there, really I was
falling from that place. Self-confidence is not a virtue
gained by a Christian, it’s a crutch used by a Christian.
My faith wasn’t necessarily grown by my experience,
but often tempered and caged by it. It seems backward
to desire less confidence and less sophistication, but
are these born of the spirit or by the flesh?
Paul, in shock, asks the Galatian church, “Are you
so foolish, that having begun in the Spirit you are made
perfect in the flesh?” That which began in dependence
on Jesus is it to be finished by the work of these hands?
That’s foolish! You have not learned that behavior;
you’ve forgotten something!
Picture those early times. Remember the songs you sang,
the things you learned, the places in God you in wide-eyed
wonder peered into. Read again the books that challenged
you and changed you, that stretched your faith, and pulled
at your heart. Read the notes scribbled in the margins
of your bible in hurried script trying to capture what
you ate at the Master’s table. Recall the hushed
reverence, the giddy excitement, the yearning sky-searching,
the simple trust.
Repent
When we first came into His family, we went through a
process called repentance. With a bowed head and a tear
in our eye, we knelt at an altar and turned our back on
a host of things. Whether it’s smoking, vulgarity,
licentious sex or uncontrolled rage, the sins we tore
ourselves from were as real as the bench in front of us.
At a definite point in time we nailed these things to
the cross and left them behind us. As we walked on, however,
repentance became less a real experience and more a doctrine.
Repentance became what the world needs to do, or what
sinners need to realize not something that happens to
us. As we separate ourselves from the process of repentance,
we lose the practice of putting away things that aren’t
like Him. We collect inconsistencies and un-submitted
hang-ups. We lose our skills of discernment and allow
idols to creep up unawares between Jesus and us.
It’s a lot like cleaning a house. A home that only
has one cleaning will not remain tidy forever. Why? Because
people still live there. You still need to take out the
trash on a regular basis, you still need to straighten
up the coffee table and make the bed’s you sleep
in. It’s not that your first cleaning wasn’t
sufficient for the time, it’s just that a house that’s
continually used needs continual maintenance. Why do we
think our souls are any different? We have grown as people,
and in order to remain healthy we must prune and refine
that growth so that we will continue to grow in the right
direction!
Repentance needs to be a lifestyle. Every day we need
to consider our ways and measure them against the full
stature of Christ. We need to discern the influences in
our life and pull and position ourselves that we might
become more and more like Him. If Paul in the late years
of his ministry could exclaim, “Oh, that I might
know Him!” how much more do I need to strain at the
limits of my flesh, to subject my actions, and refine
my motives to be more like the Master!
Repentance pits your unrefined flesh against the measure
of scripture. It examines in detail your image in the
mirror of the revealed word of God. We can not grow out
of repentance; we will never mature to a place where repentance
is a memory. Every day we need to sift our hearts, weigh
our motives in the balance and place every thought under
the obedience of Christ.
Do the First Works
Finally, we must do again the things that brought us
to Him in the beginning. Often in the course of our Christian
walk we get caught up in new and novel ways of following
Him. Whether they are prayer walks, devotionals, scripture
memory or any such thing they can not replace the simple
and indecorous works of the beginning.
When I first began to follow Him, I knew nothing of hermeneutics,
homiletics, or prayer warfare. I didn’t have a thorough
grasp of Angelology or church politics. I knew nothing
but Jesus Christ and Him crucified. As I grew, I added
to my knowledge of that story history, methods, doctrinal
aberrations and other such concepts. The fault is not
in increasing in understanding. The fault is replacing
that central story with anything. Nothing but that staggering
image of a bloody and beaten Savior can be the source
and center of my motivation. Nothing can compete with
or shadow the Cross.
There is a difference in a relationship with a person
and a relationship with a book, a teaching or a culture.
All these things must be subject to Him. The contraptions
of religion may deepen the context within which I place
my faith in the person of Christ, but they must never
replace Him. He is everything – take this whole world,
but give me Jesus! All teaching must point to Him, all
books must exalt Him, all songs must glorify Him.
“The First Works” are simply prayer, feeding
on the word, and loving Him. They may also be worship,
fasting, receiving teaching, and fellowship with your
brothers and sisters. But they are what you did in “gladness
and simplicity of heart (Acts 2:46).” What might
have become a duty must again become a joy. What might
have become a ritual must again become a life giving experience.
Oh, that prayer would be simply talking to Jesus, not
posturing and poetics! That the Word would be bread not
a cliché!
Oh, to put away wrangling with words, traditions of men,
lifeless service and dead men’s devotion! To take
up the mantle of sacrifice, of simple love, of childlike
innocence! To shed pretence and position and to gain Christ!
To count but dung the accolades of men, but press on to
the whisper of those words, “Well done, my good and
faithful servant!” It’s not enough to shout
and sing, to touch an emotional button or to put on a
religious show; we must once again do the works we did
in the beginning. Pray, feed on the Word, conform your
character, seek Him!
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