Finished reading: The Lord’s Work in the Lord’s Way and No Little People by Francis A. Schaeffer 📚
Part of the Crossway Short Classics Series for a reason. Definitely one I’ll return to regularly.
Quietness and peace before God are more important than any influence a position may seem to give, for we must stay in step with God to have the power of the Holy Spirit. If by taking a bigger place our quietness with God is lost, then to that extent our fellowship with him is broken and we are living in the flesh, and the final result will not be as great, no matter how important the larger place may look in the eyes of other men or in our own eyes. There will always be a battle, we will always be less than perfect, but if a place is too big and too active for our present spiritual condition, then it is too big.
Francis Schaeffer, reflecting on Jesus' words in Luke 14:7-11 and, in the process, offering prescient advice for Christians in the era of platform-building and online influence:
Jesus commands Christians to consciously seek the lowest room. All of us—pastors, teachers, professional religious workers, and nonprofessional included—are tempted to say, “I will take the larger place because it will give me more influence for Jesus Christ.” Both individual Christians and Christian organizations fall prey to the temptation of rationalizing this way as we build bigger and bigger empires. But according to the Scripture this is backwards: we should consciously take the lowest place unless the Lord himself extrudes us into a greater one.
Wise words, those. But how rarely are they practiced. I’m reminded of R. Lucas Stamps' article, “Pursue Obscurity.” The advice given in the title (courtesy of his mentor, Craig Bartholomew) is more active than we’re used to. As Stamps explains, “It is not enough simply to accept obscurity, if it happens to be our lot. Rather, there is virtue in positively pursuing obscurity, in seeking anonymity and nonrecognition.” Or, as Schaeffer puts it, we should consciously—intentionally—take the lowest place unless the Lord extrudes us (i.e., forces out under pressure) into a greater one. In other words, be like Augustine, who strenuously avoided the office of bishop and actually wept when he was thrust into the role by the people of Hippo.
Nowhere more than in America are Christians caught in the twentieth-century syndrome of size. Size will show success. If I am consecrated, there will necessarily be large quantities of people and dollars. This is not so. Not only does God not say that size and spiritual power go together, but he even reverses this (especially in the teaching of Jesus) and tells us to be deliberately careful not to choose a place too big for us. We all tend to emphasize big works and big places, but all such emphasis is of the flesh. To think in such terms is simply to hearken back to the old, unconverted, egoist, self-centered Me. This attitude, taken from the world, is more dangerous to the Christian than fleshly amusement or practice. It is the flesh.
Filing this one away under the tab labeled “Opposition to bigness and greatness in all their forms” (see here and here).
To be wholly committed to God in the place where God wants him—this is the creature glorified.
“And now we know what it feels like for the Jinn,” said Edmund with a chuckle. “Golly! It’s a bit uncomfortable to know that we can be whistled for like that. It’s worse than what Father says about living at the mercy of the telephone.”
Wheatfield (1879) by Pierre-Auguste Renoir:
