losing one’s religion

If you googled Charles Templeton you would read about a gentleman who traveled with Billy Graham in his early years of ministry. People called them the ‘Gold Dust Twins,’ a term meaning they were inseparable and untiring in the work of evangelism.

While the National Association of Evangelicals (NAE) in 1946 dubbed Templeton among the “best used of God” and “most gifted,” he paid greater honor to his friend. Of Graham he wrote, “There is no feigning in him: he believes what he believes with an invincible innocence. He is the only mass evangelist I would trust.”

doubt and defection

It all started to unravel two years later. ‘Chuck’ Templeton enrolled in Princeton seminary, a progressively liberal institution, in 1948. His studies watered the seeds of doubt already growing in his heart re: the goodness of God and the trustworthiness of scripture.

For many years, Charles Templeton battled with his demons. His internal struggles caused him great physical distress. A physician advised him to settle his spiritual issues before they killed him.

In 1957, the once prominent evangelical evangelist, the budding preacher of hope, declared himself agnostic. In 1996 his memoir, FAREWELL TO GOD: MY REASONS FOR REJECTING THE CHRISTIAN FAITH, was published.

Most sadly, Charles (“Chuck”) Templeton died from complications to Alzheimer’s in 2001.

a grim reality

For it is impossible, in the case of those who have once been enlightened, who have tasted the heavenly gift, and have shared in the Holy Spirit, and have tasted the goodness of the word of God and the powers of the age to come, and then have fallen away, to restore them again to repentance…
Hebrew 6:4-6, ESV

It is a frightening thought that we, given over to ourselves, could fall away like Charles Templeton. Our New Testament book of Hebrews has much to say on these matters.

While it is possible to be a truly good person, give witness to one’s personal confession of belief, have exemplary conduct and blameless character…you can still be utterly lost.

There are doctrines of demons and Potiphar’s wives and poisonous grifters and bright city lights that beset us on every side. Whispers of doubt, menacing flirtations and suggestive come-hithers abound. If not for God’s grace, we could easily become shipwrecked, stuck deep in the muck and mire of sin.

As Gandalf warned Frodo Baggins:

“It’s a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don’t keep your feet, there’s no knowing where you might be swept off to.”

The grim reality is the Christian world is littered with spiritual shipwrecks; people who once professed Christ, now walking in darkness. To even these the gospel call goes out: “Turn! Turn! There’s mercy with Christ!”

There’s no indication Chuck Templeton ever repented and turned back to Christ. By all indication he died in his sin. Did he lose his salvation? No, he merely proved by dying in sin that, though a great and admirable man and exemplary evangelist once upon a time, these never bore the fruit of true salvation.

jesus I am resting, resting

Lee Strobel interviewed Chuck Templeton a couple of years before he died. In the interview Strobel asked him if he would like to believe. Templeton replied, “Of course! If I could, I would. I’m eighty-three years old. I’ve got Alzheimer’s. I’m dying, for goodness sake.”

There’s an eternal gulf between, “If I could…” and “I can’t, but you can, Jesus. I trust you.”

The writer of Hebrews speaks of resting. Jesus said, “Come to me and I will give you rest.” That’s it. That’s the tweet, as they say. Come to Jesus. Keep coming to Jesus. Don’t hide. Don’t run away. Don’t ignore him. Come to him. Find rest for your burdened soul.

This, then, is the crux of the sermon of Hebrews. Take great care and be very sure that you end up on the side of Jesus. Do not neglect so great salvation (Hebrews 2:3). Live each day, moment by moment in his love (Jude 21). There is a rest that comes from that (Hebrews 4:3).

I am resting because Jesus invited me to and I’m taking him at his word. Obviously I’m not trusting in my ability to be faithful to him but rather in his faithfulness to hold me and keep me from falling (Jude 24-25). His love draws me in so I am less inclined to wander away. The key is to keep looking to Jesus.

Keep taking your messes to Jesus your High Priest (Hebrews 4:15-16). He has more than enough grace to forgive and restore you. He understands. He sympathizes with your weakness. He knows you’re “prone to wander.” He can handle your doubts. Keep taking it to Jesus. He is a Savior who “deals gently” with us (Hebrews 5:2).

I am on Christ’s side. Better, he is on my side (Romans 8:31-34). I don’t live in fear that I will blow it and God will strike me down. I am sobered by stories like that of Templeton. I do not want to be that man. With God’s help and his constant grace, I rest in the truth that I am his and he is mine.

Jesus, I am resting, resting
in the joy of what thou art;
I am finding out the greatness
of thy loving heart.
Thou hast bid me gaze upon thee,
as thy beauty fills my soul,
for by thy transforming power,
thou hast made me whole.

Jesus, I am resting, resting,
in the joy of what thou art;
I am finding out the greatness
of thy loving heart.

O how great thy lovingkindness,
vaster, broader than the sea!
O how marvelous thy goodness
lavished all on me!
Yes, I rest in thee, Beloved,
know what wealth of grace is thine,
know thy certainty of promise
and have made it mine. [Refrain]

Simply trusting thee, Lord Jesus,
I behold thee as thou art,
and thy love, so pure, so changeless,
satisfies my heart;
satisfies its deepest longings,
meets, supplies its ev’ry need,
compasseth me round with blessings:
thine is love indeed.

Ever lift thy face upon me
as I work and wait for thee;
resting ‘neath thy smile, Lord Jesus,
earth’s dark shadows flee.
Brightness of my Father’s glory,
sunshine of my Father’s face,
keep me ever trusting, resting,
fill me with thy grace.

Jesus I Am Resting, Resting, Jean Sophia Pigott (whose brother, a missionary to China, lost his life with 76 other missionaries during the Boxer Rebellion of 1901)

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bornagainniversary

Today I’m 48 years old.

In the Lord.

It all started on a Sunday in our family room, kneeling in front of the couch. Dad was on his knees beside me. A half-eaten Sunday dinner was cooling on the dining room table…

january 20, 1974

The family, just home from morning worship, was sitting down for a meal of roast and potatoes, and I was all tied up in knots.

About an hour and a half earlier I had a kung fu grip on the back of the pew in front of me and my knuckles were stretched white. I was sitting with my mother a third of the way back on the outside left, facing the platform. Forrest Hills Baptist Church was more packed than normal.

We had a guest speaker that morning, Monroe Parker. I don’t remember too much about the sermon, only that he used scary illustrations about people who died without Jesus. On hospital beds, in car wrecks, every sort of life-shortened tragedy.

It was revival week with the evangelist, so the altar was mostly filled with weepy folk. As the choir started through another verse of Softly and Tenderly, I leaned out into the aisle, still gripping the pew. I chanced a quick look at my mom, who nodded and smiled knowingly, and that was all the motivation I needed to join a trickle of souls to the front.

Ann Plant was an altar worker known well by our family. She met me, saw how miserable I was, and hastily led me to an open spot on the platform steps.

It was already assumed I was saved (I was a really good kid) so she led me in a “rededication of life” prayer. She smiled and hugged me and I went back to my row where mom waited. I forced a smile because I still felt heavy inside. Where was that lightness of step and brightness of spirit I expected?

On the drive home from church, I remember sitting in the backseat between my two sisters. I was very quiet. Positioned with my feet on the hump, I leaned forward and stole glances of my sad self in the rearview mirror. I could see dad‘s eyes occasionally sliding over to meet mine.

Finally, he furrowed his brow and asked if I was okay. I didn’t look okay. It was all so very discomfiting.

For a thirteen year old kid, a trip to a church altar and a vulnerable prayer with an adult should at least earn you some level of peace. Not me. I didn’t feel fixed.

praying with dad

Sunday dinner was not in the least bit enjoyable for a boy who liked to eat. I pushed vegetables around the plate with my fork, worrying over stuff like being killed in a car wreck and lost for eternity. Pretty out-there stuff for a thirteen year old.

Midway through the meal dad and I exchanged looks. He saw the misery on my face. I felt lost and told him so. He looked at mom and she said lunch could wait. Rising from his place at the head of the table, dad set down his napkin and pushed away.

“Let’s go into the family room, buddy” he said kindly. “I think I know what you need.”

I followed dad to our sofa and took my place beside him on my knees. There, father and son side by side, settled the matter of my soul once and for all. I started to cry. It felt for all the weight of the world that what we were doing was right. I exhaled all my pent-up breath and answered my dad, phrase by phrase, in the sinner’s prayer.

Two minutes later, we were done. Dad hugged me and told me I was saved and that I shouldn’t doubt it ever again. And honestly, by the good grace of God, I never have.

There’ve been some touch-and-go moments in my life, but, forty-eight years later (and counting!), the testimony holds because Jesus holds me.

This is my story, and this is my song:

a salvation hymn

I love GOD because he listened to me,
listened as I begged for mercy.
He listened so intently
as I laid out my case before him. Death stared me in the face,
hell was hard on my heels.
Up against it, I didn’t know which way to turn;
then I called out to GOD for help:
“Please, GOD!” I cried out.
“Save my life!”
GOD is gracious—it is he who makes things right,
our most compassionate God.
GOD takes the side of the helpless;
when I was at the end of my rope, he saved me.
Psalm 116:1-6, The Message

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Advent Podcast #2: God With Us Misfits

Advent Cry: Why are You so interested in me?

Can you relate?

“…As she nears the well with fevered thoughts she pulls up because there is a Man who appears to know she’s arriving.

It’s as if He’s waiting there for her.

She gingerly steps toward Him, taking note the look of bemusement on His face. What strikes her most is He is most obviously a Jew.

And He’s standing right where she needs to go!

…This week, on the Pasture’s Podcast.

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