[7.5 minute read]
For the word of God is alive and powerful. It is sharper than the sharpest two-edged sword, cutting between soul and spirit, between joint and marrow. It exposes our innermost thoughts and desires.
Hebrews 4:12
Two men. One, a former president, fashioned a Bible to his own liking; the other, a French professor, tried to do that but was ultimately pierced through by its unconquerable swordplay and aliveness.
Thomas Jefferson thought the supernatural and miraculous works of Jesus were greatly exaggerated, so he took a razor to them in his New Testament. Once he had trimmed away all but the most core and basic teachings of Jesus, he sat back and sighed, satisfied with his compact version he named The Life and Morals of Jesus of Nazareth.
The Jefferson Bible, is an 86-page dumbed-down testament of Enlightened Man. It disregards Jesus’s virgin birth, resurrection, and ascension, along with anything else that defied common sense and reason. Or so thought the 77-year old American statesman.
Across the sea, Émile Cailliet was born in Dampierre, France on December 17, 1894. He served in the French armed forces in World War I, and distinguished himself with many degrees from two universities. After coming to America, he served as a professor French literature at the University of Pennsylvania; Scripps College and Claremont Graduate School in California; and Wesleyan University in Connecticut. In 1960, he began to teach Christian philosophy at Princeton Theological Seminary, in which capacity he continued until his death in 1983.
The following is his remarkable story (in his own words) of coming to faith through the supernatural appeal of the Word of God:
I was born in a small village of France and received an education that was naturalistic to the core. This could possibly have had a great deal to do with the fact that I did not even see a Bible before I reached the age of twenty-three.
To say that this naturalistically inspired education proved of little help through front-line experiences as a lad of twenty in World War I would amount to quite an understatement. When your own buddy – at the time speaking to you of his mother – dies standing in front of you, a bullet in his chest, what use is the sophistry of naturalism? Was there a meaning to it all?
One night a bullet got me, too. An American field ambulance crew saved my life and later the use of a badly shattered arm was restored. After a nine-month stay at the hospital, I was discharged and resumed graduate work.
During my stay at the American hospital, I had married a Scotch-Irish girl whom I had met in Germany on Christmas Eve the year before the war had broken out. She was, and has always remained, a deeply evangelical person. I am ashamed to confess that she must have been hurt to the very core of her being as I made it clear that religion would be taboo in our home. Little did I realize at the time that a militant attitude often betrays an inner turmoil.
I had returned to my books, but they were no longer the same books. Neither was my motivation the same motivation. Reading in literature and philosophy, I found myself probing in depth for meaning. During long night watches in the foxholes, I had in a strange way been longing – I must say it, however queer it may sound – for a book that would understand me.
But I knew of no such book. Now I would in secret prepare one for my own private use. And so, as I went on reading for my courses I would file passages that would speak to my condition, then carefully copy them in a leatherbound pocket book I would always carry with me. The quotations, which I numbered in red ink for easier reference, would mead me as it were from fear and anguish, through a variety of intervening stages, to supreme utterances of release and jubilation.
The day came when I put the finishing touch to “the book that would understand me,” speak to my condition, and help me through life’s happenings. A beautiful, sunny day it was. I went out, sat under a tree, and opened my precious anthology. As I went on reading, however, a growing disappointment came over me. Instead of speaking to my condition, the various passages reminded me of their context, of the circumstances of my labor over their selection.
Then I knew that the whole undertaking would not work, simply because it was of my own making. It carried no strength of persuasion. In a dejected mood, I put the little book back in my pocket.
At that very moment, my wife – who, incidentally, knew nothing of the project on which I had been working – appeared at the gate of the garden, pushing the baby carriage.
It had been a hot afternoon. She had followed the main boulevard only to find it too crowded. So she had turned to a side street which she could not name because we had only recently arrived in town. The cobblestones had shaken the carriage so badly that she had pondered what to do. Whereupon, having spotted a patch of grass beyond a small archway, she had gone in with the baby for a period of rest.
It turned out that the patch of grass led to an outside stone staircase which she had climbed without quite realizing what she was doing. At the top, she had seen a long room, door wide open. So she entered.
At the further end, a white-haired gentleman worked at a desk. He had not become aware of her presence. Looking around, she noticed the carving of a cross. Thus she suddenly realized that this office was a part of a church building – of a Huguenot church edifice hidden away as they all are, even long after the danger of persecution has passed. The venerable-looking gentleman was the pastor.
She walked to his desk and heard herself say, “Have you a Bible in French?”
He smiled and handed over to her a copy, which she eagerly took from his hand; then she walked out with a mixed feeling of both joy and guilt.
As she now stood in front of me, she meant to apologize, but I was no longer listening to her.
“A Bible, you say? Where is it? Show me. I have never seen one before!”
She complied. I literally grabbed the book and rush to my study with it. I opened and “chanced” upon the Beatitudes! I read, and read, and read – now aloud with an indescribable warmth surging within. I could not find words to express my awe and wonder. And suddenly the realization dawned upon me: this was the book that would understand me!
I continued to read deeply into the night, mostly from the Gospels. And lo and behold, as I looked through them, the One of whom they spoke, the One who spoke and acted in them became alive to me.
The providential circumstances amid which the book had found me now made it clear that while it seemed absurd to speak of a book understanding a man, this could be said of the Bible because its pages were animated by the presence of the living God and the power of his mighty acts. To this God I prayed that night, and the God who answered was the same God of whom it was spoken in the book.
(Eternity magazine, July 1974).
The Book of books is alive and powerful. It doesn’t just “understand us,” it enlightens and enlivens us to know God intimately and equips us to thrive in this hard, unyielding world. As H.B. Charles, Jr. put it so well, “It is the will of God to have the Spirit of God use the Word of God to make the children of God look like the Son of God.”
May his Word accomplish its perfect work in you and me today.
Selah, beloved.
Scott, thank you for the inspiring post. Joe
I appreciate your reading my stuff, Joe. Bless your day and be well my friend!
That was excellent!!!
I especially loved the statement, “H.B. Charles, Jr. put it so well, “It is the will of God to have the Spirit of God use the Word of God to make the children of God look like the Son of God.”
Amen!
I loved that quote also! He’s such a wonderful preacher and godly man. I’m grateful for his ministry.
Great story Scott. I never knew the part about Jefferson. We as people are constantly seeking fulfillment. We may try food, companionship, good deeds or any of a number of worldly pleasures. Only through a relationship with the Savior can we find that fulfillment. God truly does speak to us through His Word! We can find encouragement, correction, forgiveness, praises, hymns and many other things if we only will look. God bless!
Thank you for sharing this with us, Alan. I’ve been picking through Ecclesiastes again (for the umpteenth time) and finding these words as true and reliable as ever. Blessings to you and Michelle, brother!
WOW! This is SO powerful!! This statement made me stop and reread… you know… how you do when GOD highlights something… “Little did I realize at the time that a militant attitude often betrays an inner turmoil.” Boy, that explains so much about our response to those so loudly opposing us… what is the inner turmoil that brings you to so loudly oppose? Makes me want to see and pray differently. And how about the “book that knows me?” I am so grateful that the book knows me and leads me out of me… time and time again. Thank you for sharing this insight and for teaching me how to let the book speak to my right now need. Eternally grateful, my friend. Truly!
P.S. Love this picture of you and Sange!
Once again, your comments are beautifully crafted summaries and I’m eternally grateful to YOU, sister-friend. It’s truly a pleasure trading truths and sharing Jesus with you!
Very interesting as I hadn’t heard that about Jefferson. God’s Word is timeless and applicable to all. May we dig more and more into the truths of God’s Word with an open heart and mind. Our Daily Bread — that sustains us is irreplaceable! Keep sharing these great messages!
Amen. To whom else would we go for life-giving and -sustaining words? At times his Word is a hammer, beating us into gold. Sometimes it’s a sword, surgically revealing the diseases in our soul. But always — always — it is honey that restores our health. So very much appreciated, Beth. God bless, dear friend.
Southern Gospel music probably isn’t commonly on your radar, but you might like Karen Peck and New River’s “Four Days Late”—one of my favorites.
Wow, Lynn, I just listened to “Four Days Late” and it really ministered to my heart. The timing of my listening to it was spot on. Thank you for sharing it with me. Bless you and yours in the Lord’s love, my friend.
Interesting that my prior message ended up using initial caps.
I know. While I like the overall website design theme, I find that a bit odd also. I wish I could change that feature but, alas, I haven’t figured out out yet!