Sowing the Wind

“For they sow the wind and they shall reap the whirlwind.”

The blossoms of spring. The warming sun. The gentle breeze. The façade of death. Lives that had been seeking, yearning, pleading—gone. A tense calm. A waiting crowd. The protruding of bayonets. Other lives watching their world of dreams shattered by a curious excitement, a breathless fear. The whirlwind has begun.

For two years I have ministered to the student world of Kent State University, where last month, in the midst of anti-war protests, four students were slain and eleven wounded in the unexpected heat of confrontation with the Ohio National Guard. I have never been in war, but that day as I stood with hundreds of students on the campus commons I knew how ugly war could be. And I shared with them the shock of comic-book fiction coming true. The whirlwind blew as it willed, and there was no one who could hold it back. We knew not where it came from or where it was going. We did realize its presence—deep in the clefts of our souls. We wanted to hide. Too late.

The whirlwind has begun. The unalterable laws of the spiritual dimension are proving their reliability. God is not mocked. What a man plants in his life and in the lives of others will yield back manyfold. And we have sown the wind.

We have sown the wind of permissiveness in the home. “Honor your parents”—true. But what honor is there for a commander who puts a soldier into the battle without training him for war? Young people need (and many genuinely want) some absolutes for their lives, proven in righteousness, demonstrated in honest experience, and taught with love. What are the absolutes we offer? Without the pronouncements of the Infinite-Personal God there can be none, really. Unfortunately, he is increasingly avoided.

What are the young people today to hold in assurance and trust? Dad and mother do not agree on “truth.” Often they are violently opposed, while the child becomes the pawn to win the match. Or the parents seek for their personal success and happiness but have no long-standing definition for either one. No source of direction there. Why not let Johnny do his own thing? Maybe he will do it better.

Actually we are all children at heart. “Mature manhood” is “the stature of the fullness of Christ so that we may no longer be children.” So perennial children threw their rocks at the “bad guys.” Someone lost. Who? By what measure can we really be sure? Which is worse: killing or being killed? Why can’t I hate?

Can National Guard troops firing real bullets be colaborers with the permissive home? Shouldn’t we have expected confrontation sometime? “Honor … that your days may be long in the land.” But the days are growing shorter. We are reaping the whirlwind.

We have sown the wind of egotistic humanism. How prophetic that the first fruits should be located in the same field in which the seed was sown! For years we have believed that man is the center of the universe and that he alone can determine its destiny. Result?

In my daily work with students, one common trait presents itself in the majority (with different manifestations): pride. Young people today have no absolutes for defining “value,” but they are certain they will find it—within themselves. Their minds have become the invaluable tool for discerning reality, and all ideas worthy of serious consideration must be earmarked “Intellectual.”

The egotistic tendencies of many are presently expressed in the cry for peace. We are deeply concerned with the course of Southeast Asia. But when members of one segment of society begin to assume the messiah complex in this course, they may lose sight of the objective and look only at the means—themselves. The seed sown: man is god. The result: one faction alienates itself from the rest of society to become the one indispensable god. This is not just a few. A bulk of the student world participates—vicariously. And the ultimate result on their personalities is the same. “The works of human nature are … enmity, strife, jealousy, anger, selfishness, dissension, party spirit …” “To set the mind on the flesh is death.…”

The sound of gunfire draws the eyes of the world more intently to willing champions who rise more boldly to fulfill their destiny, to preach their message of love and make it their experience, to stand alone in their own mirage of hope, to enjoy the deceptive taste of victory, to seek to establish their own righteousness and not submit to God’s righteousness. (“The preaching of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing.”) God help us; we are reaping the whirlwind.

The Church is not innocent. It too has sown the wind. The Church has offered absolutes but has shown little comprehension of their reasonableness, has provided little appropriate course for implementation, and has given little evidence of their truth.

The greatest commandment is love. Where? For whom? The Church has made God’s priority a relative issue: relative to class, to race, to effort demanded, to time consumed, to personal gratification, to theological hassles, to church organization. “Hereby shall all men know [awareness with certainty] that you are my disciples [those disciplined to obey all that he has commanded] if you love [fully and always] one another [both giving and receiving without distinction.]” The indifference of the world and our young people give evidence: we are reaping the whirlwind.

The Church has sown its own brand of humanism, too. We have “the form of godliness but deny the power of it.” Every moment spent, every effort made, and every doctrine taught without the express intervention of God’s Spirit depends on human nature and tends to spiritual pride. We deny God’s Spirit often in our prayers, our giving, our disciplining, our living. We claim our victories, but we know, and the world knows, that we testify only to our own achievements. We have sown by the flesh. We don’t know how to sow to the Spirit any longer. We are empty. Our strength has been depleted. But we are also proud. We can’t let Christ down? We can’t let ourselves down! In maintaining the form only, however, we have let both down in the end.

Our young people know our “humanist” game. Why should we be surprised if they begin to play it with “secular” rules? It is the same game: man becomes his only practical hope. We inherit the whirlwind. “If we sow to the flesh, we shall from the flesh reap corruption.”

God’s spiritual order is intact. Nothing has gone wrong. Everything is working together as it should. We are the ones who suffer because of God’s own perfection. But God’s spiritual order is our only deliverance. “The Spirit is like the wind … so is everyone who is born of the Spirit.” The kind of wind we sow—is this not to be reckoned with? Yes, it is!

The past year in my work with Navigator, Campus Crusade for Christ, and Inter-Varsity chapters at Kent State, I saw God doing tremendous things. Christian young people were growing spiritually. Lives were beginning anew with Christ. God’s Son was increasingly becoming an issue on the campus. All things indicated that this was God’s time for K. S. U.

The school newspaper carried a number of articles with the emphasis on the Good News of Christ. In December a Christian basketball team played the Kent State varsity team. During half-time these Christian players presented Christ’s claims to hundreds of student spectators. Bible-study groups began in a number of dorms, as well as among the faculty. Hundreds of students received a personal presentation of the Gospel. Many responded. Then eight weeks ago, after months of planning and prayer, the Navigator, Campus Crusade, and Inter-Varsity groups combined in an all-out evangelistic thrust into the campus, using popular music and outstanding speakers. More than two hundred contacts were made through this strategic move. New discussion groups on Christ sprang up. The month of May seemed essential to the spiritual flow of this school year.

Could it be that the whirlwind viewed that Monday afternoon was a direct result of months of sowing God’s wind? “Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion.” Had Satan finally uncoiled? Was this his whirlwind? If so, he obtained a temporary victory: the school was closed for the rest of the quarter. But Satan’s storms die.

The point, however, should be obvious: the question is not whether whirlwinds can be avoided. They can’t. The question is, Why do they appear? Hosea marked the reason for his generation: “They have broken my covenant, and transgressed my law. To me they cry, My God, we Israel know thee. Israel has spurned the good; the enemy shall pursue him. They made kings, but not through me. They set up princes, but without my knowledge … For they sow the wind, and they shall reap the whirlwind.… Because Ephraim has multiplied altars for sinning, they have become to him altars for sinning” (8:1–4, 7, 11). Do these words ring our judgment too?

My plea to the Church is to begin sowing the wind—the Spirit. Begin at the most crucial location in the nation: the college campus. Sow genuine love and spiritual power in the lives of students who may someday determine the direction of men and nations. Begin when they are still in your midst. But follow them with your prayers, your encouragement, your tears, your commitment to Christ, your undying devotion to God’s Son. Stand with them by sowing, planting, watering, and praying that God will give them the increase: a whirlwind of eternal victory and life-transforming witness to the student world; a whirlwind that will eventually render all other whirlwinds ineffective. God help us not to hesitate!

The Hypothetical Battle

Pierre Berton in his best seller, The Comfortable Pew, alleges that in every battle between the Scriptures and science since Copernicus, the Bible has lost. This is untrue. What he might have said is that religious zealots construct a superstructure of hypotheses on the alleged foundation of the Scriptures. He might also have pointed out that students of science construct what W. R. S. Thompson, Director of the Commonwealth Institute of Biological Control, Ottawa, in his introduction to Charles Darwin’s Origin of the Species (New York, 1959), calls, “… those fragile towers of hypotheses based on hypotheses, where fact and fiction intermingle in an inextricable confusion.” It is when the highly biased defenders of these two fabricated bastions clash that the sophistries of the latter seem often to prevail intellectually over the frequent ingenuosities of the former.

What is refreshing at a time like this is that perhaps the most charismatic of the astronauts, Colonel Frank Borman—indeed, the most popular American ever to visit the Soviet Union—can say, “I believe now that man can do anything he wants, technically,” and yet introduce from the moon orbit the creation account from Genesis 1. He believes in technology. And he believes in the Bible. Without this combination man cannot survive, let alone thrive.

Britain’s Prince Philip has never been known as an enthusiastic evangelist. But [recently] he has been speaking out.… In Toronto with poignant solemnity he cautioned that unless “the high priests of science” were prepared to subordinate their discoveries to an orientation which would be dominated by faith in God, there would cease to exist a basis of belief that man could long survive on this planet.—JOHN WESLEY WHITE in Re-entry (copyright 1970 by Zondervan, Grand Rapids, Michigan; used by permission).

A Student’S Open Letter To God

DEAR GOD,

I know other people have approached you in lines of disgust, anger, disbelief, and sometimes even praise. This personal note comes out of a selfish motive. If I put my feelings down on paper, perhaps I can relieve some of the warfare going on inside me.

Let me be blunt. This turmoil has been festering and growing ever since my faith in you came to be personal rather than borrowed. I’m torn between being a Christian on one hand and a churchman on the other. Ever since I became a personal friend of yours through that long, painful process of growing, I’ve found little more than constant frustration. True, I’ve been at ease when my thoughts and feelings have been dulled by the details of college life, and when I just didn’t care about you or how our friendship was going. But those times when I have really cared and pondered have ended in nothing but frustration. I’m caught in an evangelical schizophrenia.

First of all, I know what life as your friend can be like. I’m starting to learn to trust you, to confide in you, to depend on you, and to enjoy your constant love, which guides, disciplines, and comforts me. At times, your words seem alive and real. I feel you taking my hand, leading me, even just being near. At other times you seem far away, and I’ve had to cry out for you to return. Sometimes you’ve come. Other times you’ve left me alone in a dark sea of profound loneliness. But you’re real, you’re alive, you’re with me. I know that.

The hitch comes in that institution you ordained long ago. I know countless others have complained about the Church and cursed it and shot it full of holes. I don’t know their motives, but I do know that mine is one of loving concern. As I read Acts and the letters of Paul, I can see what you really wanted from the Church, and the ideas were great. I feel exhilarated when I think of what the Church could be if we stuck to your directions. But I feel disgusted when I look and see what has evolved from that first perfect blueprint.

There are times when I want to burn down every cross-topped building in the world and start all over again. But what will I replace it with once it has been torn down? You understand, Lord, I want what you gave, and I can even see some sparks of life in today’s “church.” At the same time, however, I want that beautiful, personal relationship I found so exciting.

Right now I find the Church stifling my friendship with you. Those services three times a week tend to bore me rather than stimulate my thinking. Worst of all, most ideas for change meet with hard-nosed disapproval from the stalwarts who run the institution. So what do I do? I could take the easy way and drop out. But what good would that do? I could go and hope to change things by just being there, but that presents another problem. If I go and don’t get involved, I’m just perpetuating the deadness I hate.

The last alternative would be to really get involved, but that has it’s problems, too. If I put my whole being into it, chances are most of the leaders of the church will turn me off and shove me aside as a radical student bent on destroying the Church. They’d be right from one viewpoint. I would want to destroy their church and replace it with yours, and I am a radical, but I’m a radical for you. They look at my outside covering—longer hair, sideburns, no suit on Sunday—and push me out of serious consideration. If they listen to my ideas at all, they see a young know-it-all trying to disrupt their sacred form of worship, their carefully cultivated isolationism.

I love them, Lord. I really feel some of my “radical” ideas would give more life to the Church and help to turn it into a living, vital, interesting institution. For instance, instead of the traditional Sunday-night gathering for songs and another peaceful sermon, why couldn’t we all meet at the church building, organize into action groups, and hit the streets? Some groups could go to the jails, some to the bars, some to the rest homes. The younger people could go to the local discotheque. We wouldn’t have to have a structured meeting planned for the people to whom we go. We could just sit and talk. Get involved with the people of the world and find out some of their problems. We might even be able to put our Christianity to work. As we are now, Lord, our evangelical sponge is already filled to overflowing with sermons and lessons on what we are supposed to believe and do. If we could just squeeze out a little of our life-giving knowledge about Christ on Sunday night, Sunday morning might become more useful.

Another option would be to break up on Sunday night into small groups and let Christians interact with other Christians. Just talking over our problems, joys, and hopes with one another would add exciting new life to the Church. Eventually our Christian masks, worn so piously on Sunday morning, would disappear, and we could see one another as we really are. We could start treating each other as real brothers and sisters in Christ.

I could change myself to meet their standards, Lord, but I’d be cheating myself. I also don’t want them to have to deny their self-dignity by changing to be like me. All I want is a chance for all of us to meet on an equal plane as your children, as people with a vital common concern.

As you can see, Lord, I’m groping with an idealistic prospect, one that probably won’t be realized until you decide to return. Nevertheless, I needed to get this off my chest. Thank you for listening.

Respectfully,

DAVID R. KNIGHTON

(Editor’s Note: David Knighton is a pre-med student now in his junior year.)

The Convert

Smoke curled gently about Satan’s face as if he were doing a TV cigarette commercial. He fastened a judgment look on Fireball, who stood between two towering guards, and then glanced at papers on his desk. “I have here a strange report concerning you, little brother. In fact, it sounds incredible. It states that you have turned Christian!”

Fireball hung his head for a moment, then lifted it bravely. “I can explain, Majesty.”

“By all means do so,” said Satan, unsmiling. “I have asked some of my theologians to sit in on this matter. For ages Christians have been discovered helping our cause—but who ever heard of one of us joining forces with them?”

“Always, great one,” murmured Fireball, “I have considered myself the most loyal of demons. I have hated the Enemy, ridiculed his Book, fought fiercely against the Church. I have despised his chief warriors, especially the Apostle Paul, and I have labored long to overthrow the Galilean’s kingdom.”

Satan shrugged. Fireball continued: “As you are aware, sir, I have not been without success. I was there urging Nero to toss believers to the lions. It was my idea that Karl Marx used when he said, ‘Religion is the opiate of the people.’ I have fought a good fight against the faith from the morning of the Resurrection—in fact, who do you think spread the rumor that his disciples had stolen his body from the tomb? I have long, as they say in America, been doing my thing.”

“Must you lower your dignity with hippie jargon?” demanded Satan. “And never mind your case history! What I want to know is why you have forsaken us for the opposition? How in the name of all that’s unholy did you come to hit the sawdust trail—as quaint Billy Sunday used to say? What happened? Don’t tell me that Billy Graham got to you?”

Fireball wagged his head. “Preachers like Graham never ruffle the fuzz on my neck. What happened is, I think, that any number of clergymen and theologians got me caught in a conspiracy, though unwittingly, perhaps.”

The devil glowered. “I’m listening. This had better be good!”

“They came at me from all quarters—far-out existentialists, demythologizers, dead-God philosophers, universalists, situationists—everybody! They made havoc of the Bible. They joked about the Virgin Birth. The Resurrection became an event born in the apostles’ imagination. The miracles were ridiculed. Morals that Christians had lived by for centuries were shrugged off. The idea of personal salvation was jettisoned. The Church took up the use of political and economic pressure, rang in all sorts of power groups, and dubbed all this ‘evangelism.’ ”

The devil grimaced. “Look. I’m not altogether unaware of the goings-on of clergymen and theologians. What I want to know is what happened to you!”

“I will explain, Majesty. But it’s not easy. The thing is, I got hung up on this business of ‘evangelism.’ All of us know what the word meant originally. It is associated, of course, with that other word, ‘evangelical,’ referring to the Christian Gospel, especially as presented by the four Gospels; or referring to churches that emphasize the authority of Scripture and the importance of preaching as contrasted with ritual.”

“For the love of Hades!” barked Satan. “I have my own dictionary. Quit quoting Merriam-Webster and answer my question!”

“Bear with me, great one. But allow me one other quote from Merriam-Webster. ‘Evangelism: the winning or revival of personal commitment to Christ.’ But observe how evangelism has been turned into everything other than the making of personal converts to Christ—vast drives for more social activism, legislation, monetary pressure. Modern ‘evangelism’ embraces groups that would have embarrassed the early Church no end!

“Church chiefs today, sir, are suggesting things that would have horrified the apostles. They are talking about being the world! And you know how unanimous the young Church was in its stand against the world, maintaining that the love of the Father was not in him who loved the world. They said the world was doomed. In fact, they said—pardon me, sir!—that their enemies were the world, the flesh, and the devil!”

“Why a history of the early Church?” growled Satan. “Must you forever quote the Bible? Once more I ask you, how did you come to get converted to Christianity?”

“Sir, the Christianity we once knew we all abhor. It was eternally opposed to all we stood for. It was a foe to whom no quarter was to be given, no mercy shown, no invitation to negotiation. The battle was to the death. But all that is changed. The Church is not the same now. No more does the prophet damn what is evil; rather, he seeks to understand evil, to see if it is really as bad as men have believed.

“Christians, great one, in a large sense are no longer at war with us! They swing toward a position we once considered most dangerous to their cause: they seek success in the way of Caesar—and you know what an ally of ours he was!

“They embrace a universally effected redemption that includes everybody—not necessarily excluding us, finally! Hence the evangelism of their Book is approaching a standstill; for personal salvation is meaningless. So what have we left to fight for, Majesty? Has not the Church become our friend rather than our enemy? As long as some men were lost and others saved, our position was certain, our duty clear. But what profit shall we have if we war with those who offer us nothing to attack?”

“Hmmm.” Satan’s look narrowed upon his aide. He cupped his chin in his hand. “You just may have something there. When you don’t need to fight ’em, join ’em, huh? If Christianity has really become as you describe it, we might all become converts!”

Fireball beamed. “Then, Majesty, will not the war be over?”

The devil shook his head. “Not quite. There’s still Graham you know, and others like him. Many of them are hard-headed beyond credibility. They will never be won over, so the war will go on. However, you have shown us something, little brother. Hence I give you the honor of heading the new movement to get our forces into the Christian fold. We will need a slogan.”

“How about ‘Keep the Unbelief, Baby’?” cried Fireball.

“Too obvious. Something better would be, ‘Through Conversion We Shall Overcome.’ ”

“What about ‘Sock It to Me, Mephistopheles’?”

“Sometimes I wonder about you,” grumbled Satan. “Get along now and get them organized for marching.”

Fireball scurried away. Smoke curled about the devil’s crooked grin. But the grin faded into a dark scowl. He said, as if to himself: “I do wish we had Graham, though, and several million others that come to mind. There ought to be some way …”—LON WOODRUM, author and evangelist, Hastings, Michigan.

ONCE ON A BLACK MORNING

Once on a black morning

when sleet like buckshot blasted

the frost on my trembling window,

awakening sleek and nested,

I leapt from my blood-warm bed

avid to grasp the day

but, brushed and breakfasted,

I still heard the pellets play

their rat-a-tat-tat on the pane.

Now I had to open a valve

that makes a turbine spin

that makes the world revolve,

but when I was mittened and muffled

the window shuddered: I saw

beyond it an ice age stir.

With the bound of a buffalo

I made for the bed and once

under the covers I’ve kept

in residence ever since.

Tell me: has everything stopped?

FRANCIS MAGUIRE

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