Another Fallen Preacher—Our Need for the Fear of God
Hardly a week goes by without a shocking headline about some well-known preacher’s fall into disgrace. Albert Mohler, president of Southern Seminary, stunned by the fall of a dear friend of his, said last week in his grief that what may be missing is the fear of the Lord. That would deter!
Responding to his suggestion, I want to draw our attention to this subject this week.
There is one factor that explains better than any other why some people passionately pursue God, whereas other people are somewhat casual, if not downright callous, in their pursuit of him.
While there are many topics too complex to yield simple, singular answers; on this topic, revelation and observation agree: The diligence, or delinquency, of our pursuit of God is largely attributable to one dynamic, one reality—the absence or the presence in our life of the fear of God.
Not much is said about the fear of God these days. Deemed a curious relic from the rusty, dusty past—this subject has gone largely unmentioned.
In this era of “happy talk” sermons and glad-hand evangelism, the last thing today’s preachers want to do is to scare off the evangelistic prospect with a subject like this.
This aversion to putting the fear of God in people was no problem at all for the old-time preachers. Why, with veins popping and forefinger waving, these preachers thundered this message with quiver-in-the-voice warnings.
So what exactly is the fear of God? Clearly, it isn’t the fear of a cornered animal, a fear that terrorizes and immobilizes. Because Scripture says that kind of fear has torment (I John 4:18)—which is something God never gives (II Timothy 1:7), and perfect love will cast out (I John 4:18).
However, no one in today’s church really thinks this is the kind of fear commended in Scripture.
If a survey were conducted to ascertain what people think “the fear of God” means, many would equate this term with “reverence” or “respect”—words noticeably toned down from the images that the word “fear” conjures up.
But is this a too tamed and too toned-down interpretation? In defining the fear of God we must be very careful not to minimize what this term actually entails.
In his book, Man: the Dwelling Place of God, A.W. Tozer declared, “That evangelism which draws friendly parallels between the ways of God and the ways of men is false to the Bible and cruel to the souls of its hearers.”
Masking divine truth with chit-chat friendliness from some emcee-in-the-pulpit preacher serves only to redirect people away from the presence of God. To less observant eyes, this substitution of shallow moralism and sugary optimism for the soul-shattering, vision-elevating truth of God may seem valid, at least in the beginning. Hence, Oswald Chambers observed:
… the teaching of Jesus Christ does not appear at first to be what it is. At first it appears to be beautiful and pious and lukewarm; but before long it becomes a ripping and tearing torpedo which splits to atoms every preconceived notion a man ever had.
Scripture reports historical incidents that strike the soul with terror, shocking sensitivities with speechless gasps.
Those not tracking the truth but taking an alternate course will drift toward a different destination. Follow them and the fear of God will vaporize.
What set all this up in Isaiah’s day was a watered-down version of the fear of the Lord. The Lord told Isaiah, “... their fear toward Me is taught by the commandment of men.”
This term, “the commandment of men,” stood in sharp contrast with another term used in that day, “the commandment of God.”
This substitution eventually provoked an intonation from the prophet dripping with contempt. The very idea—“the commandments of men!” The prophet’s disdain, disgust, disapproval, derision, and denunciation could not be hidden!
Because definitions are important, let’s be clear on this: The term, “the fear of God,” doesn’t just mean reverence or respect. And one way to know that it doesn’t is to watch what happened in Scripture whenever God physically (but partially) disclosed himself to mortal men. How did they respond? By becoming chummy and chatty and saying, “Well, how are you doing, God?” Never!
Whenever God revealed himself in this way, the response was always the same—men fell flat on their faces! They were completely overwhelmed! They shook, they trembled, and most certainly they were afraid! More afraid, in fact, than they had ever been in their entire lives!
C.S. Lewis wrote: “Some people talk as if meeting the gaze of Absolute Goodness would be fun. They need to think again.”
In his book, That Incredible Christian, Tozer wrote:
Christ can never be known without a sense of awe and fear accompanying the knowledge. He is the fairest among ten thousand, but he is also the Lord high and mighty. He is the friend of sinners, but he is also the terror of devils. He is meek and lowly in heart, but he is also Lord and Christ who will surely come to earth to judge all men. No one who knows him intimately can ever be flippant in his presence.
Fear is generated whenever we encounter a reality we cannot avoid, cannot control, cannot comprehend because it is much, much bigger than we are.
We can say that such a reality is “awesome” or “amazing,” but then again so are majestic, snowcapped mountains and flaming red sunsets on the beach—scenes that can absorb us into their beauty and impress us with the frailty and finitude of our creaturely status.
Such scenes, however, won’t begin to affect us in the way that an actual encounter with our Creator, Sustainer, and Judge would.
David Frost was interviewing the Archbishop of Canterbury several years ago. And when asked to describe God, the Archbishop began by saying, “Something with one and beyond one that fills one with awe, and reverence, and gives one a sense of supreme obligation .…” Quite spontaneously, Frost interrupted the Archbishop to say, “That could be the Internal Revenue Service.”
Precisely so! And that’s why the word awesome isn’t enough, and why also the word amazing isn’t enough! Not even the word reverence is enough! Because to come before a holy God engenders fear! A fear that grips ... a fear that sobers ... a fear that motivates. But, here’s the important point, it does not do so destructively! Instead, this is a fear that energizes and compels in the most positive way! This fear draws, motivates, inspires!
Christians sometimes wish for some decisive force, some appealing motive, some powerful compulsion that practically takes them over and thrusts them forward into holy, righteous living! Maybe then the zigzag life of moral compromise can finally be left behind.
Well, to fear God is to be caught up in the orbit of God—his unutterable goodness, his unspeakable love, his unfathomable power—so that every other distraction becomes a meaningless blur.
As our sensitivities then soar, showing us how real and worthy God is, temptation will quickly recede; for it simply cannot exist in those rarefied heights!
Consequently, because the glory of the living Lord will dwindle and dwarf everything else, one can then move from grace to grace and glory to glory, instinctively, and almost automatically, pleasing the Lord!
Receding temptation... pleasing God... that sounds better than falling into disgrace.
