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A BEATLE’S MANIA

It’s a posthumous battle: were Beatle songs composed by Lennon/McCartney or by McCartney/Lennon? Lennon is dead, and Sir Paul is apparently unwilling to just “let it be.” Can Christians really be holy when we’re concerned with getting top billing?

If you were a completely holy person, would that be something to be proud of? Would it be hard NOT to be proud of it?

We’ve been studying the doctrine of the holiness of God for about a week and a half now, and just as we were getting into it, a fascinating new book came into the office. Here’s the title: Humility: The Journey Toward Holiness. And your instinctive reaction is: “Huh? Holiness and humility? How do they go together?” Right away, author Andrew Murray says this:

“The great test of whether the holiness we profess to seek or to attain is truth and life will be whether it is manifest in the increasing humility it produces. In the individual, humility is the one thing needed to allow God’s holiness to dwell in and shine through him or her.”

Obviously, we would rather illustrate this point using someone else as an example, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do! Back in the November 2001 issue of the Reader’s Digest there was an interview with “Sir Paul,” the 59-year-old ex-Beatle, Paul McCartney. Many of you remember that his beloved wife, Linda, passed away after a long struggle with breast cancer, and the story revealed that he was now engaged to Heather Mills, an activist for amputees’ rights. And there was some chitchat about this and that before the discussion finally turned to songwriting. He and John Lennon had written something like 194 songs together and he described how every single songwriting session turned out a song. They never once came up dry.

And the interviewer asks: “So it was magic, chemistry?” And McCartney confesses — carefully:

“I think the point was that we were both [very] good. I’m sorry, folks, but there’s a point at which you have to suspend your modesty. I mean, we had something. And I think it was the love of it, which developed into skill.”

Well, take that with a grain of salt, and it’s true that when you’ve written 194 songs, had many, many #1 singles, many gold records, many Grammys . . . you’re good. No two ways about it. But then the interview goes just a bit sour as McCartney describes how sometimes Paul would do the main work on a song and say, “Hey, John, listen to this.” And Lennon would kind of stiffen. The next morning, after spending a hard day’s night composing, it would be John who had independently done a song on his own, and Paul would stiffen up. They had a competitive thing going between them eight days a week, a “stairway of achievement,” where the songs got better and better.

As any Beatles aficianado knows, though, all 194 songs said in the credits: “Lennon/McCartney.” That was the writing team: “Lennon/McCartney.” And some time after John Lennon’s death, Paul, helping to work on the recent Anthology book, wondered if on some of the songs that were actually his creations, it could say, for example, “‘Yesterday,’ by Paul McCartney and John Lennon.” So he asked Yoko Ono, Lennon’s widow, and she said no. “Lennon/McCartney.” A bit later, his wife Linda asked Yoko again. “You know, this would mean a lot to Paul,” she said. And Yoko refused again. It was always going to be Lennon/McCartney and nothing else. There was no way they could come together.

And Sir Paul, who has been a part of the most influential rock group in all history, says in closing:

“It just worries me because it’s my reputation. People now think it’s a major bone of contention with me, like I’m worried about being overshadowed by John. I’m not. I love him dearly. I think he would have done it. But it’s one of those things that happens in life and I’m OK with it now. But if you’re reading this, Yoko, there’s still time.”

In other words, “We Can Work It Out.” But notice how this multimillionaire obsesses over whose name goes first. “I’m worried about my reputation,” he says. And from the very humble sidelines, as I look into my own spiritual mirror, where thinking about credit lines puts worry lines on MY face, I can see in my life that holiness and humility have to go hand in hand.

The Bible talks about this a great deal, and Jesus tells a parable about a banquet where someone wants to have his name listed high on the engraved program and sit in the nicest seat. Andrew Murray puts it this way:

“‘Me’ is a most exacting person, requiring the best seat and the highest place for itself, and feeling grievously wounded if its claim is not recognized. Most of the quarrels among Christian workers arise from the clamoring of this gigantic ‘me.’ How few of us understand the true secret of taking our seats in the lowest rooms.”

That rings a bell, doesn’t it? How desperate we are to see our name in print, and then to see our name FIRST in print. And as we’ve been discovering all during this series, the holiness of God is all tied up with the holiness of His followers. It is knowing HIS holiness and finding our proper place in the shadow of His holiness, that we can have any semblance of holiness ourselves. Of course, this is precisely what humility is: resting in the shadow of God’s holiness. Murray says it this way:

“Humility is nothing but the disappearance of self in the vision that God is all. The holiest will be the humblest.”

Now friend, this doesn’t mean that the man or woman of God can’t also be a great composer of hit tunes. Christians can write bestselling books. And their names go on the front of those books. They have to fill out the paperwork to receive the royalties that accrue to them. None of that is wrong. Attending a book-signing party isn’t wrong. Having people congratulate you for a job well done isn’t wrong. But when we begin to get our IDENTITY from the name on the book, from the applause, from the pats on the back, the adoration of the crowds, then we’ve taken a wrong turn and moved away from holiness.

In fact, this Andrew Murray raises the stakes even higher.

“The ONE infallible test of our holiness will be our humility before God and others. Humility is the bloom and the beauty of holiness.” And get this, Sir Paul and Sir Lonnie: “The chief mark of counterfeit holiness is its lack of humility. Every seeker after holiness needs to be on guard lest unconsciously what was begun in the spirit is perfected in the flesh, and pride creep in where its presence is least expected.”

This is the scary thing, isn’t it? It’s possible to try hard to be holy — which Christians should certainly do — but have our efforts be derailed because we get to be proud of our holiness.

“There is such a thing as the danger of a selfish pursuit of holiness,” writes Gerald Vann.

And the Bible corroborates this, as we already mentioned, quoting from Colossians 3:12, which says:

“As God’s chosen people, HOLY and dearly beloved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, HUMILITY, gentleness and patience.”

And all through the Bible, Old and New Testaments, we find that godliness and holiness come from keeping GOD on the throne, of putting God’s name first in the credits and not our own. Psalm 22:3 says:

“YOU are enthroned as the Holy One; YOU are the praise of Israel.”

Of course, that was written by King David, who had people say some pretty nice things about him. “Saul has killed his thousands, and David his tens of thousands.” Remember? There were pretty girls and groupies and autograph hounds lining every road he walked on. But even as we signed autographs and thanked the Olympic sponsors in Salt Lake City when they hung gold medals around our necks, we need to remember that only God is on the throne; only God is the “praise of Israel.”

Here’s a bit more of Andrew Murray’s book, Humility: The Journey Toward Holiness.

“There is no pride so dangerous,” he writes, “so subtle and insidious, as the pride OF holiness. It is not that a man ever says, or even thinks, ‘Stay away. I am too sacred for you!’ The thought would be considered ludicrous. But unconsciously there can develop a private habit of soul that feels complacency in its attainments and cannot help but see” — notice this, now — “how far it is ahead of others. It isn’t always seen in self-assertion or self-praise, but in the absence of self-denial and modesty that reveals a lack of the mark of the soul that has seen the glory of God. It is a tone, a way of speaking of oneself or others, in which those who have the gift of discernment cannot but recognize the power of self. Even the world with ITS keen eye notices it, and points to it as proof that the profession of a spiritual life does not always bear spiritual fruits. Beware, lest we make a profession of holiness, delighting in beautiful thoughts and feelings, in solemn acts of consecration and faith, while the mark of the presence of God — THE DISAPPEARANCE OF SELF — is obviously missing.” And now the prescription of the day, folks: “Flee to Jesus and hide yourself in Him until you are clothed with His humility. That alone is holiness.”

Friend, it’s a hard thing to do. I’ve been on this painful journey myself for more than five decades. And how often I’ve stepped away from Jesus’ shadow and cried out, “Please! Somebody clap for me a little bit too!” Quoting from Sir Paul and the departed John Lennon, it’s a long and winding road . . . fleeing to Jesus and hiding myself in Him.