The Presence

July 26, 1991

Hebrews 11:6

Introduction:

I have not always been a good Christian. I have been an utterly sincere Christian. One thing that I did, shortly after I made a 're-commitment' at age seventeen, has become a symbol in my own mind of my entire relationship with God across the years.

I ran, physically, after God, trying to reach Him, to find Him, to come near to Him.

Maybe I had an over-simplified, even arrogant idea about being a Christian. I had the idea that now that I am a Christian, I will give it everything I have, and I'll be a pretty good one! I'll be spiritual! I'll get my prayers through, and I'll do everything I know and be a credit to God and the church.

What's wrong with that? Probably nothing— but there are a lot of "I's" in that thought, aren't there?

Anyway, I ran after God, literally. Maybe more than once— but I remember one time vividly— it was in a bit of woods, no one else around to see or hear. I prayed, I called, finally I got up and simply ran, hoping that the energy would bring me closer to God.

Maybe I am still running after God! Maybe sometimes I need to run. But I have been discovering these past 40+ years that God is near when I realize that He is near— and that God is near even when I do NOT realize that He is near.

It isn't bad to run to God. James tells us, "Draw near to God, and He will draw near to you!" Perhaps it is even all right to go running after Him. But I'm not sure that it is necessary, or that a physical nearness is what James means at all.

I. DISCOVERING ISAIAH 41:10

I discovered Isaiah 41:10 on the way to Eastern Nazarene College in early September, 1949, in the Durkee's new Plymouth. The occasion was evening bible reading. I didn't know where I was, but God not only knew, He let me know that He knew.

A few weeks later in the jail in Wareham (my two room mates and I had been dropped off in the middle of the night, a college prank on freshman, and actually a kindly police sergeant offered us the use of his brand-new jail cells- 1949) it stood me in good stead.

II. THE WALK TO THE HAMBURGER STAND

Did you ever have God slip up beside you, like the Emmaus story tells? One night three college boys decided about 10 p.m. to go for a hamburger in the only place (then) in North Quincy that was open— a diner across from Sacred Heart Church. We talked of anything and everything, but somehow on the walk home the conversation turned to God, and to the desire we had to know Him.

When we turned off Hancock Street onto Elm Avenue we fell silent. We walked maybe a block, and then we said to one another, "Did you feel that, too?" Each of us in the deepest parts of our hearts had sensed that God Himself had walked along with us. I cannot tell you any significance for you. But I have never gotten over the thrill of knowing that one time as we talked about God He joined in the conversation with indescribable love.

III. I KNOW I AM SAVED!

(EDISON STUDY, 1970 OR SO)

The occasion was a seemingly totally unprovoked, simply going about my God-called task. There have been many times when I have "felt" close to God, or have been moved to a deep sense of gratitude for His blessings. But this day as I sat at my desk it "dawned on me" with sheer and deep persuasion of joy that I knew I was accepted, that I was saved. That is the only way I can describe the assurance. I do not try to catalog the experience as being "saved" or "sanctified," for I am sure I had been saved a long time before.

I would give a lot to have that experience repeated over and over— and there certainly are times when I "feel" anything but right with God. But that afternoon I *knew* and the memory of that certitude is precious indeed.

Experience is not the be-all and end-all of faith. Experience is not to be trusted apart from scripture and from covenant-making faith. But experience is a powerful witness in the journey with God.

IV. THE ROAD TO EMMAUS, THEN AND NOW

THE OCCASION: SEE LUKE 24

They were sad They were discouraged They were sinfully behind in their faith . . . but understandably so—no different from what I would have been, I'm sure

Jesus was: A companion in their walk He was an explainer of Himself in the scriptures He revealed Himself in the breaking of bread This experience brought: New joy, great assurance A desire to share The seeds of the church that continue to this day

Conclusion:

Many times I think that I am that new Christian, that teenager, running to Jesus— seeing if I can find Him and use Him to make me a super Christian.

And other times I think— yes, I am still running! I still don't know a great deal about being near. But then I quiet my mind and think:

Where, do you suppose, is Jesus right this very minute?

There is a beautiful church in a central city square, Copley Square, in Boston— Trinity Church, Episcopal. On one side of the church, facing a little park, is a statue of Trinity Church's most famous pastor, Phillips Brooks. Phillips Brooks was a noted preacher, a silver-tongued orator that held hundreds spellbound each Sunday. But he is best known for a Christmas carol that you have probably sung many times, "O Little Town of Bethlehem."

The statue of the pastor is notable because there are actually two figures in the statuary, and the pastor is the smaller of the two. He is standing in his pulpit, this figure of Phillips Brooks, with his hand on the Bible, but the larger figure, a hooded figure of the Christ, is standing just behind Phillips Brooks, and Christ has his hand on the shoulder of the man in the pulpit. There is a message I get every time I see this statue, and even every time I think about it. For I know that whenever I think about it, the Presence is there! In the dark, in the sunshine, in the cold of winter, in the heat, the Presence is there backing up that pastor!

I suppose I'm still running to Jesus! Not, now, to see if He will make me super-Christian, so that I can do great things. But because I need Him! And He has promised never to leave me, and that if I need Him, He'll come where I am.

Let us pray.