What’s the combination to evangelistically unlock the soul of a Muslim?  Must you have expert knowledge of Muhammad  or the Koran to expose their errors?  Must you have sophisticated arguments to persuade of the logical validity of the Trinity or the deity of Jesus?

In his book, The Gospel for Muslims (Moody), Thabiti Anyabwile fields the question, “How do you share the gospel with Muslims?  I feel so unequipped.”

He responds: “It’s a fine question, but it has a fatal flaw  It assumes that somehow Muslims require a different gospel or a special technique, that Muslims are somehow impervious to the gospel in a way that other sinners are not.” (p. 13).

Whittle Islam down, and you discover that pure and simple, it’s a religion of salvation by works.  The teeter-totter must tilt toward righteousness.  Praying five times per day, fasting during Ramadan, almsgiving, making a Mecca pilgrimage — these are all efforts to earn Allah’s favor.

On the Day of Judgment, a Muslim’s good works must outweigh his bad ones.  Only then, may he enter Paradise.  The Koran reads: “Then those whose balance (of good deeds) is heavy, they will be successful.  But those whose balance is light, will be those who have lost their souls; in hell they will abide” (Sura 23:102-103).

The seesaw must tip to the side of virtue.  And here’s the gaping hole for the gospel.  No Muslim can ever be very confident about his final destiny.  He’s never good enough.  In a transparent moment, most will admit that they’re haunted by gnawing fears of forever punishment.  Self is a sorry savior.  The weight of their sins is too heavy for their consciences to bear.

Just like burdened sinners everywhere, Muslims need a mighty Savior — someone to remove the awful load.  We must present Jesus as the lone beast of burden: “Behold the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world” (John 1:29).  His divine shoulders are broad enough.  His Golgotha sacrifice atoned enough.  Faith in Him is good enough.

Thabiti writes of a Muslim woman who had come to believe in Christ as her saving Lamb:

“She was a very attractive professional woman in her midtwenties.  It was clear she had attended the discussion on Islam  at the invitation of a friend.  Finally, the crowd dwindled, and she shyly and politely thanked me for the talk.”

“Then the look.  I’ve seen the look a number of times before.  In an instant, a once forbidden but now ineffable joy broke across her face.  Tears streamed down but her face beamed brightly.  Her eyes grew slightly wild with excitement.  She told me that her family was from Iran.  She now lived and worked in the United States with her parents.  But she has a secret.  In the last two weeks, she has heard the gospel of Jesus Christ and she now loves him as her Savior.”

“I don’t know how to tell my parents, or what will happen.  But I have never been happier in my life.  I can’t explain it. . . .  More tears.  More beaming” (pp. 17-18).

“Whatever your hand finds to do, verily, do it with all your might; for there is no activity or planning or knowledge or wisdom in Sheol where you are going” (Ecclesiastes 9:10).  Life is short.  What you do, do it quickly.

No unwelcome tasks become any the less unwelcome by putting them off till tomorrow. It is only when they are behind us and done, that we begin to find that there is a sweetness to be tasted afterwards, and that the remembrance of unwelcome duties unhesitatingly done is welcome and pleasant.

Accomplished, they are full of blessing, and there is a smile on their faces as they leave us.

Undone, they stand threatening and disturbing our tranquility, and hindering our communion with God. If there be lying before you any bit of work from which you shrink, go straight up to it, and do it at once. The only way to get rid of it is to do it.

~ Alexander MacLaren (1826-1910) ~

“Mr. Chanski, we have options.”

That’s what the radiologist said to me and my wife Dianne nearly 24 years ago when he saw in the ultrasound that our pre-born son had a spinal defect.  He was suggesting an abortion.

In those day, we wept a lot.

Our third born son, Austin, was married on Saturday to Anne Schmidt — happy, glad, laughter-filled, joyous day! He was born with spina-bifida, and back then we never thought he’d get out of a wheelchair. Now he has not only a black belt in Tae Kwon Do, but also a bride on his way to Jamaica.

“Weeping may endure for a night; but a shout of joy comes in the morning” (Psalm 30:5).

Thomas Brooks writes:

Their mourning shall last but till morning. God will turn their winter’s night into a summer’s day, their sighing into singing, their grief into gladness, their mourning into music, their bitter into sweet, their wilderness into a paradise. The life of a Christian is filled up with interchanges of sickness and health, weakness and strength, want and wealth, disgrace and honour, crosses, and comforts, miseries and mercies, joys and sorrows, mirth and mourning; all honey would harm us, all wormwood would undo us; a composition of both is the best way in the world to keep our souls in a healthy constitution. It is best and most for the health of the soul that the south wind of mercy, and the north wind of adversity, do both blow upon it; and though every wind that blows shall blow good to the saints, yet certainly their sins die most, and their graces thrive best, when they are under the drying, nipping north wind of calamity, as well as under the warm, cherishing south wind of mercy and prosperity. 

Today, I talked to a young man who will tomorrow leave home, and head off to a college campus in a distant location.  There, the parental training wheels will be removed, and he’ll be on his own for the first time in his life.  Such a place is filled with exhilaration and opportunity, but also with temptation, seduction, and diversion.

His godly mother (whom he said may cry when saying goodbye) and father have poured the best years of their lives into this young man, and long for his prosperity.  And the memory of Mom and Dad can be a blessed bodyguard to keep him from squandering the days, months, and years ahead.

Here is an excerpt from John Paton’s autobiography.  The setting is in Scotland during the mid 1800’s.  Paton describes himself as a young man leaving his home in Torthorwald to attend school in Glasgow (just to get to the train he had to walk about forty miles). His godly father walked with him for the first leg of the journey:

My dear father walked with me the first six miles of the way. His counsels and tears and heavenly conversation on that parting journey are fresh in my heart as if it had been but yesterday; and tears are on my cheeks as freely now as then, whenever memory steals me away to the scene. For the last half mile or so we walked on together in almost unbroken silence – my father, as was often his custom, carrying hat in hand, while his long flowing yellow hair (then yellow, but in later years white as snow) streamed like a girl’s down his shoulders.

His lips kept moving in silent prayers for me; and his tears fell fast when our eyes met each other in looks for which all speech was vain! We halted on reaching the appointed parting place; he grasped my hand firmly for a minute in silence, and then solemnly and affectionately said: “God bless you, my son! Your father’s God prosper you, and keep you from all evil!”

Unable to say more, his lips kept moving in silent prayer; in tears we embraced, and parted. I ran off as fast as I could; and, when about to turn a corner in the road where he would lose sight of me, I looked back and saw him still standing with head uncovered where I had left him – gazing after me. Waving my hat in adieu, I rounded the corner and out of sight in instant.

But my heart was too full and sore to carry me further, so I darted into the side of the road and wept for time. Then, rising up cautiously, I climbed the dike to see if he yet stood where I had left him; and just at that moment I caught a glimpse of him climbing the dike and looking out for me! He did not see me, and after he gazed eagerly in my direction for a while he got down, set his face toward home, and began to return – his head still uncovered, and his heart, I felt sure, still rising in prayers for me. I watched through blinding tears, till his form faded from my gaze; and then, hastening on my way, vowed deeply and oft, by the help of God, to live and act so as never to grieve or dishonor such a father and mother as he had given me.

The appearance of my father when we parted has often through life risen vividly before my mind, and does so now as if it had been but an hour ago. In my earlier years particularly, when exposed to many temptations, his parting form rose before me as that of a guardian Angel. It is no pharisaism, but deep gratitude, which makes me here testify that the memory of that scene not only helped to keep me pure from the prevailing sins, but also stimulated me in all my studies, that I might not fall short of his hopes, and in all my Christian duties, that I might faithfully follow his shining example.

“Hear, my son, your father’s instruction, and do not forsake your mother’s teaching; indeed, they are a graceful wreath to your head, and ornaments about your neck” (Proverbs 1:8-9).

This week, a dear couple in our church experienced a still-birth, after eight and a half months in the womb.  The nurse said, “I can’t find a heartbeat!”  It was devastating.

Nicholas Woltersdorff, wrote after losing his son in a climbing accident: “It’s so wrong, so profoundly wrong, for a child to die before his parents. It’s hard to bury our parents, but that we expect. Our parents belong to our past; our children belong to our future. We do not visualize our future without them. How can I bury my son, my future, my next in line? He was meant to bury me!”

On the way to the hospital, I called a pastor friend and his wife, who about 18 years ago experienced a stillbirth of their nearly full term son.  They said: “Don’t lecture.  Don’t feel like you need to say anything.  Just have long arms and big ears.”

The best expression of love Job’s three counselors delivered was their concerned presence and profound silence.  “Then they sat down on the ground with him for seven days and seven nights with no one speaking a word to him, for they saw that his pain was very great” (Job 2:13).

But eventually, we have to say something.  Here’s some advice from a woman who personally endured a stillbirth:

What NOT to say or do for the grieving parents.

“At least you didn’t get to know the baby.”  That baby was carried inside its mother’s body.  How can any relationship be any stronger or intimate?

“You are young you can have other children.”  This child was a person.  It can not be replaced. You would not tell a grieving child “Don’t worry your mom is young, and she’ll marry you a new dad.”

“I know how you feel” – If you have never lost a child, you do not know how they feel.

“You should be over it by now”  It doesn’t matter how long it’s been. You do not ever get over it.

“You should be happy it didn’t suffer.”  Of course they didn’t want their child to suffer.  They wanted a completely healthy and happy child.

“At least you have your other child/children.”  Again they are very grateful for their other child/children, but they wanted to keep all their children. 

“At least it didn’t live a few hours and then die.  That would have hurt worse.”  They would have loved to have heard their babies cry, see the color of their eyes, tell them how much they love them while they were living.

Do not act as if their child never lived.  She/he did and they loved, and still love her/him with all their heart and soul.  

What TO say and do to and for the grieving parents:

“I love you!”

“Can I do anything for you?”

“I am here to listen when you want to talk about your precious baby.”

“Can I watch the other children so you can rest?”

“Can I clean the house for you while you rest?”

http://www.angelfire.com/tn/praisinghim/kindness.html

Imagine a reasonably solid Christian said to you after church one Sunday morning, “Look, I’d like to get more involved here and make a contribution, but I just feel like there’s nothing for me to do.  I’m not on the ‘inside’;  I don’t get asked to be on committees or lead bible studies.  What can I do?”

What would you immediately think or say?  Would you start thinking of some event or program about to start that they could help with?  Some job that needed doing?  Some ministry that they could join or support?

This is how we are used to thinking about the involvement of church members in congregational life — in terms of jobs and roles: usher, Bible study leader, Sunday School teacher, treasurer, elder, musician, song leaders, money counter, and so on.  The implication of this way of thinking for congregational members is clear: if all the jobs and roles are taken, then there’s really nothing for me to do in this church.  I’m reduced to being a passenger.

However, if the real work of God is people work–the prayerful speaking of his word by one person to another — then the jobs are never all taken.  The opportunities for Christians to minister personally to others are limitless.

So you could pause, and reply to your friend, “See that guy over there on his own:  That’s Julie’s husband.  He’s on the fringe of things here; in fact, I’m not really sure whether he’s crossed the line yet and become a Christian.  How about I introduce you to him, and you arrange to have breakfast with him every couple of weeks and read the Bible together?  Or see that couple over there?  They are both fairly recently converted, and really in need of encouragement and mentoring.  Why don’t you and your wife have them over, get to know them and read and pray together once a month?

— from The Trellis and The Vine, by Colin Marshall and Tony Payne, pp. 26-27

“The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.  He makes me to lie down in green pastures; He leads me beside quiet waters.  He restores my soul; He guides me in paths of righteousness for His name’s sake” (Psalm 23:1-3).

Long ago, Thomas Kelly spoke about his experience of riding on a small riverboat in the treacherous waters of the St. Lawrence River between Montreal and Lake Ontario:

“I remember the first time I came down the St Lawrence River; as the Long Sault Rapids came in sight, all the passengers were intently looking at the rushing, foaming waters in the distance.  Soon the boat was brought to a halt and a man was taken on board.”

“He was an Indian, a man about 55, stalwart and strong, and I believe the only pilot that had ever successfully attempted to steer a vessel through those raging waters.  I watched him with peculiar interest, as he put his hands on the wheel and pointed the boat towards the rapids.  With hands busily working the wheel at times, and his eyes riveted, as it were, on some object ahead of him, he held that great vessel steady to its course; and as we were flying, with almost the rapidity of thought, I beheld, little more than an arm’s length from the boat, huge rocks protruding out of the water.”

I thought: ‘So HE brings us.’

“My dear friends, I plead with you to halt this morning, and put out the rope of faith, that Jesus, the great Pilot, may come on board.  You may be nearing agitated waters and dangerous rapids, which will wreck you for ever without His guidance.”

Dr. David Murray is a professor at Puritan Reformed Theological Seminary, and the Blog Creator of  “Head, Heart, Hand”.  He was guest speaker at our annual one-day youth conference at Harbor Church here in Holland on August 7.  We call it our Mid-Summer Lord’s Day.  We had over 150 youth in our building.

For the day’s finale, David Murray consented to be interviewed about the details of his personal testimony.

The hour was a special one.

You can watch, or just listen here.

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Paul loved his kinsmen, the Jews, so much so that he could wish himself accursed that they might be saved (Romans 9:3).  And now in Acts 22:1f he finally had his opportunity to address the heart of the nation on the Temple stairway.  There he stood beaten by the mob he was trying to save.  He probably had bruised ribbs, a lacerated forehead, a black eye, and a bloody lip.

He would have been within the bounds of truth to begin his sermon with, “Liars, hypocrites, white washed tombs, hear my defense.”  But that’s not how he began.  Instead, he shouted, “Brothers and fathers, hear my defense.”

He didn’t seek to denigrate and humiliate his audience, but to woo and win them.  Then he quit his Greek, and began speaking in their Aramaic, to soothe the savage mob, to win their favor, and to get on their wavelength.  He even gave his Pharisaic credentials: “I studied under Gamaliel and was zealous for the law . . . as you are today. . . I also persecuted the Way, binding and putting men and women in prison.”  He was saying in essence: “Hey, I feel your pain.  I too hated Christians.  They were like cockroaches to me, and I was the chief terminator in Jerusalem.  You grind your teeth against Christians?  I have the wear marks on my incisors to prove my past hatred for them.”

Notice in this Paul’s sensitivity and tact in witnessing for Christ.

Gordon Keddie writes in his commentary on Acts (p. 278): “Too many Christians seem to think you can shout people into the kingdom. They stand up, blast away about sin for a while, ‘present Jesus’ as Savior, and call for a decision.  It’s as if merely badgering people with biblical truths is a means of grace! Paul could have after all, just as well rebuked the mob loudly for trying to kill him. He could have told them he counted their Pharisaism as “rubbish” (Phil3:8) in comparison to knowing Christ Jesus . . .  Paul didn’t just throw the gospel into their faces, but sought to woo them.”

A man in our church reported talking with a fellow businessman on an airplane.  He wanted to get to Christ, but he began with the NHL.  He found a common enthusiasm for hockey, so he warmed the man up by discussing the Red Wings and the Maple Leafs.  They were bonded.  He eventually got to Christ.  They exchanged emails and cell phone numbers.  He sought to become all things to this man to save him.

Paul’s speech teaches us to seek to find out what we have in common with our hearers, to enlist their sympathies by showing the marks of our common humanity, to show sympathy and kinship.

Play in a softball league with them.

“Oh really?  I too was raised Roman Catholic!”

“Aw man, my parents also divorced at an early age, and it tore out my heart.”

“You just lost your dad to a heart attack?  I still remember when my dad died, and how I used to for weeks wake up in the middle of the night weeping uncontrollably.”

In these kinds of ways, we can wisely woo in our witnessing.

Michigan State Quarterback Kirk Cousins, who is a hometown boy from here in Holland, MI, delivers the speech to represent the players at the 2011 Big Ten Kickoff Luncheon.

“From everyone who has been given much shall much be required” (Luke 12:48).