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WHAT TRUMPS A KING?

In his book, The Contemporary Christian, evangelical writer John Stott shares a painfully real story that occurred within his own faith community, the Anglican Church. Back in the year 1957, South African Hendrik Verwoerd, who was serving in government as the Minister of Native Affairs, issued a proclamation called the "Native Laws Amendment Bill." There was a church clause included, and the basic thrust of it was that association between races was prohibited: "in church, school, hospital, club, or any other institution or place of entertainment." This was the law of the land; this was apartheid, and it was official government policy.

Well, at that place and time, the Archbishop of Cape Town, again, for the Anglican Church, was a quiet man named Geoffrey Clayton. And the church faced a difficult dilemma. What should they do about this "Native Laws Amendment Bill"? He got together with his fellow bishops, and they issued a proclamation of their own. In a letter to the Prime Minister, he informed the government:

"If the Bill becomes law, [we will be] unable to obey it or to counsel our clergy and people to do so."

Period. "We can't obey, and neither can we advise our followers to do so." Tragically, the strain of the political process took a toll, and Archbishop Clayton was found dead the very next morning after sending the letter of defiance.

There's a bit more of a twist to the story. Slippery politicians magnanimously stepped in to "amend" the amendment, but, according to John Stott, the fix was worse than the original disease. He calls it a "mischievous" solution, which ended up penalizing black worshipers instead of the church leaders. To its credit, the church sent out word again. In all Anglican churches, a letter was read calling on clergy and lay people alike to disobey the "Native Laws Amendment Bill."

Now, why did the Anglican Church make this decision? Stott takes us back in the history books to a time when the Roman Empire had a philosophy of "deification of the state." What the government said, you did. And then he adds:

"Still today there are totalitarian regimes which demand from their citizens an unconditional allegiance which Christians cannot possibly give."

And why? Well, the chapter title in his book says it all: "Jesus Christ Is Lord." For the Christian who accepts and believes that Jesus is a risen Savior, that He's alive today, and that He rules in heaven, Jesus becomes something far, far more than simply a good Teacher. Friend, for those people — and I humbly and gratefully count myself in their number — Jesus Christ is the Lord of our lives. He is a King to us. He is a Ruler. What He says, goes . . . even more than what the government says. John Stott finishes off the thought with the rest of his paragraph. Notice:

"The disciples of Jesus are to respect the state, and within limits submit to it, but they will neither worship it, nor give it the uncritical support it covets."

There's really one verse in the Bible which spells out in just seven words the delicate, but rock-solid, unmoving, symbiotic relationship between the Christian's allegiance to the state and his or her allegiance to this Christ, this Lord. In the New Testament book of Acts, Peter and the other apostles were hauled off the paddy wagon by the state authorities — the Sanhedrin. "Hey, we ordered you not to teach in the name of this Jesus," the rulers scolded. "Now, we're not going to tell you again."

And Peter didn't flinch. Here's the seven words which should ring forever through time.

"We must obey God rather than men!"

When there's no conflict between the two — the Bible teaches us, and Dr. Stott corroborates it beautifully — then the Christian is an obedient subject. Following the laws, paying taxes, respecting the king.

"We are to submit to the state," Stott writes, "because its authority is derived from God and its officials are God's ministers" — this is clearly taught in Romans 13, by the way — "right up TO the point where obedience to the state would involve us in disobedience to God."

And why? Because, friend, Jesus Christ is Lord. He is in every respect — in fact, in a higher respect than any earthly citizen can fully comprehend — the absolute Ruler of our lives. And a Christian who accepts that Jesus is God's Son, and that He is alive today, at this very moment, gladly accepts the Lordship of Christ and submits to it.

One of the early pioneers in my own Adventist denomination, Ellen White, wrote a 750-page masterpiece on the life and ministry of Jesus Christ. It's called The Desire of Ages; I'm sure some of you listening today have read and enjoyed it. But she, too, has a single line which speaks volumes about the Lordship of Jesus.

"It is not enough to believe about Christ," she writes; "we must believe in Him."

Meaning we have to place our lives under His authority, under His leading, and even under His rules.

I've mentioned more times than I can track that precious, powerful scene from the film, Chariots of Fire, where a young Christian missionary named Eric Liddell tells England's Olympic Committee that he simply cannot run in a 100-meter heat on the Sabbath Day. And you recall, they bring him in before the Prince of Wales, Edward VIII. "This is your future king," they tell him. "You owe this to your government, to change your mind and run." And the prince himself chimes in: "Liddell," he says, "sometimes we have to make sacrifices . . . or our patriotism is worthless."

And there's a pause. But not a very long one, because this young Christian athlete fully understands where his loyalties lie. "Sir," he says, "God knows I love my country. And my king. But God makes kings, and the rules by which they govern. And my God says that the Sabbath Day belongs to Him."

And as you watch, it's clear that this is a very simple, clean, precise hierarchy for Liddell. "Athlete Puts God Before King," all the London tabloids screamed. Nothing will change his mind. Because Eric's Lord — his ultimate Lord — has spoken. Of course, by the time of the 1924 Olympic Games there in Paris, the guillotine and the rack and the burnings-at-the-stake and all the torture instruments still locked up for tourists to see today in the Tower of London had gone by the wayside. But it thrills me to realize that this incredible young man knew that Christ being Lord was worth everything — more than a gold medal. More than life itself.

Earlier in this chapter — and this book is wonderful, life-changing, MUST reading, by the way — John Stott takes us through six key areas of life where having Jesus as Lord impacts us. You really must read this for yourself, but let me just outline the six: the INTELLECTUAL dimension, the MORAL dimension, the VOCATIONAL dimension, the SOCIAL dimension, the POLITICAL dimension, and even the GLOBAL dimension. Really, friend, in every conceivable aspect of life — 24 hours a day, seven days a week — this relationship of "Jesus as Lord" is to guide us and rule us and bless us.

I think our goal for today — and really, for all of life — is to take all of the flippancy, all of the casualness, all of the shallow stereotyping out of that word "Lord." Actors on TV and in the movies toss it out so easily: "Oh Lord." And "Oh God!" And it means next to nothing. But for the Christian who embraces it, the concept of "Lord" is a complete life make-over.

Paul writes about this in a way we could easily shrug off. Romans 10:9:

"If you confess with your mouth, ‘Jesus is Lord,' and believe in your heart that God raised Him from the dead, you will be saved."

It's interesting to note — as we've been saying — that Jesus being Lord is linked yet again to the Resurrection. Because how can a dead person rule your life? But is Paul saying here that our lips simply need to move one time to form these four syllables: "Jesus is Lord"? Is that it? And then sign on the dotted line that you believe in the Resurrection . . . and you're saved? No! We can't just say carelessly: "Jesus is Lord." No, He has to be MY Lord with all that it entails. He needs to rule in my life, and I need to be willing to follow Eric Liddell away from the Olympic Games starting line and away from whatever gold medals I might be chasing in life. If I do that, and acknowledge, today and every day, that the risen Savior is indeed my Lord . . . then friend, my salvation is secure and yours can be too.

We borrowed an unforgettable C. S. Lewis line not too long ago, and it bears repeating here as we think about lordship. "Christianity," he suggests, "is either all-important, or it's not important at all." If Jesus is just a good Teacher, then big deal. There have been a lot of those. If He went up on that cross, and died, and stayed dead, then you could be glad for some of His good parables, and that'd be the end of it. But friend, if Jesus Christ came out of that tomb, if He's alive today, if He really was what He said — the Son of God — and if He and only He can offer us eternal life . . . then to accept Him as Lord isn't just "kind of" important, it's all-important. It's everything.

Friend, "everything" is exactly what He wants to be for you right now. It's all He can be: nothing or everything. Which is it going to be?