"Dear Dokimos"
In the constant search for helpful written ministry that would be suitable to include in this magazine, the editor frequently finds himself leafing through the brittle pages of some very old publications. The writers of those aging documents are all in the glory and they rest from their labor. They little thought that, in some distant land and far-off day, a man like me would read their yellowed page and draw sustenance from what they penned with ink-dipped quill in the dim light of an oil lamp, or guttering candle.
Such thoughts led me on to wonder who at last may read this copy of "Counsel." Perhaps, after the Church has been caught up to glory, a tribulation saint, in some attic refuge has just discovered this very copy among bundles of old papers. With trembling hand and furtive glace he turns the pages, and wonders who were those writers,, whose names appear in the index? How did they live for God in their day? What was the condition of the Church before they were so suddenly caught up from the earth to glory? Does that dear suffering saint not deserve an honest answer? Will an open letter suffice?
"Dear Tribulation Saint, Dokimos,
Greetings in the Name of Christ Jesus, our Lord and yours. We have gone to glory and anticipate your soon deliverance. Let us at once affirm that our Beloved Lord Jesus is more radiantly glorious than ever we imagined, even in our highest and holiest moments on earth. All heaven is illumined by the shadowless light of the Lamb, a glory that excels the spectrum of the rainbow. The atmosphere is sweet and fresh with the fragrance of the Lily. The armies of heaven are assembling, soon to follow the King of kings and Lord of lords in battle array.
Take heart, beloved of the Lord, your suffering will soon be over and He will come whose right it is to reign, and the glory of the Lord will cover the earth as the waters cover the sea. You wonder who we were, how we lived and what was the condition of the Church while we waited for the Lord from Heaven?
Of course, we were only sinners saved by matchless grace and redeemed by the precious blood of Christ. In those pre-rapture days we were rich and increased with learned expositions. We grew fat on theological dainties while we 'dialogued' about social problems and religious questions that cost us absolutely nothing. We feasted on our own fellowships and separated ourselves from other saints who did not agree with our man-made rules and regulations. We built magnificent meeting places and fed one another there with the finest of Biblical instruction and religious entertainment.
We stepped up the cadence or our music and turned up the volume to attract the world. We did not seem to hear the sob of the sorrowing, the cry of the brokenhearted and the wail of perishing souls. We tapped our toes to the world's tunes and got involved in the world's politics. The final fury of which, you, dear fellow believer, are suffering now.
We worshipped our idols in the domed temples of sport and, as fan-atics, we sacrificed countless hours we could never recall. We zipped up our Bibles in plastic Bible bags on Sunday evenings and unzipped them again the next Sunday morning. We preached orderly, eloquent, fervent sermons on Sundays, then subjected our families and workmates to our ill temper on Mondays. This, because Christ was replete in our homiletics but not reigning in our hearts or homes.
We relegated precious truths of the Church to our library shelves to gather dust and replaced them with carnal alternatives and the organized methods of big business. We discarded the God-given symbol of submission, called it culture only for Corinth, irrelevant for our day, and caused obedient angels to wonder in silence at such an insult to their glorious Lord, and gave the rebellious angels opportunity to gloat that, at last, a creature glory was displayed in the Church.
We formed religious corporations with self-appointed offices to control millions of money, which we invested in the stocks and bonds of the world's system to get still more money. All the while, overwrought missionaries struggled with broken printing presses and woefully inadequate equipment. Missionary hospitals and clinics lacked modern facilities and adequate stocks of medical supplies.
Outside the door of our complacency, malnourished children with distended stomachs gazed in silence and far-off multitudes hungered for bread and died, drugged in the dark. Worn-out missionary vehicles, loosened and rattled by jungle roads and washboard trails, lay silently rusting, waiting for tires, batteries and spare parts. Aged believers in our own towns, urgently needing nursing care and comfort in a Christian atmosphere, had to leave their loved ones and their familiar places to find a distant haven, or else go to the world's provision for a place to end their days.
Men - and women - rose up and sought to turn God's people aside from the Truth, diverting them away from the Lord Jesus with religious forms and innovations. Some even turned backwards to childish things, seeking signs and wonders and became preoccupied with subjective experience. Others, charged with the care of the flock of God, became so busy in the world and their own affairs, that they hired a man to do their work, and left him to it.
The Gospel of the Glory of the blessed God was rarely heard in its purity and power. In many places the gospel meeting was discarded as 'outdated,' or we replaced it with yet another introverted fellowship meeting. Meanwhile, lost men and women drove past our beautiful buildings, and wondered what was going on inside.
Yet is spite our lukewarm condition, the Lord did not forsake us. He knocked and knocked and knocked again, ever seeking an entrance, to take His rightful place within. Thankfully, here and there, there were individuals, and repentant companies of God's people who heard His voice and opened up to enjoy His rich provision. These lived holily, loved greatly, served faithfully, and looked earnestly for the Lord to come, and they finished well.
Dear Tribulation saint, we cannot with for your suffering, but perhaps had we known more about persecution than profits, more about pain than the world's pleasures, more separation from it and its methods than wallowing in them, this letter would have been different and our reward also. We did hear a distant, muffled cry at times, but we were so comfortable in our upholstered pews, it disturbed us only slightly. It went something like this, 'Awake thou that sleepest and arise from among the dead...' Then, one ordinary day, the Lord Jesus came and took us by surprise to glory. So ended for us, life's mortal day on earth.
Still, you remain, to glorify God in your body and in your spirit by life or by death. Faint not beloved, soon the King in His glory and beauty will appear for you. Be thou faithful unto death. Your crown awaits. So that you, and by His Grace, even we also, shall be to the praise of His glory. Until then, farewell, beloved sufferer, faithful servant, weeping singer. Soon God shall wipe away the tears of sorrow from your eyes, as He has already wiped the tears of remorse from ours." JBN
from Counsel Magazine